Epilogue
Dustin
“Are they gone?”
Noah looked at me and lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think so, why? You really don’t want pasta?”
I glowered at him. “Dude, I don’t give a fuck if we eat jerky on rye. I need to tell you about this girl.”
He gave me a knowing look. “Remember how at the end of last year, and for most of January, you didn’t say shit to me?” He sat down at the kitchen table. “We could go back to that?”
I gave him a flat look. “I was in football mode; in-season practice is hard, and you know it. Fuck, the first three weeks you lived here, I thought you were mute.”
Noah laughed out loud. “Fair enough, we’ve moved on.” He looked happy at the idea, but he caught my impatient stare and sighed. “Fine, tell me about the girl.”
I followed him to the couch. “I saw her at the bar the other night. She is hot. I mean . . . smoking hot.” I remembered her legs. God must have made those legs just so I could feel them wrapped around my waist.
“Are you drooling?”
“Shut up.”
“Did you already hook up with her?” he asked incredulously.
“No.” I saw his look. “Maybe . . .”
“How?” He looked astounded. “I’m not joking, literally how?”
“She went out back, I went out back, you know.”
He was shaking his head. “No, I literally don’t know how that could happen from you both going out back, unless that’s code for something I don’t know, and I’m from Vegas, so I pretty much know all the codes.”
“I got skills.”
“You dirty fucker,” he said as he shook his head, impressed. “So what’s the problem?”
“I got a taste,” I confessed. “I want more.”
“And you can’t call her because?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“Jesus, Dust.”
I smirked. “You need to help me find her.”
“Go back to the bar?”
“I want to, but—”
“I’m not Dante, I will not be your wingman. I literally suck at it.”
I looked him over. “You’re tall, dark-haired, fucking muscles everywhere, and tattooed. How the fuck do you fail at scoring pussy?”
“Because I don’t call it pussy.” Noah pushed himself off the couch. “We told Dante we’d order food.”
Dante is balls deep in pussy, I thought grudgingly. I tried another tactic. “I won’t grudge you snacks.”
Noah looked over at me, eyebrows rising slightly. “I’m listening . . .”
Mom was right — the way to a man’s heart really was through his belly.
We left a note for Dante to say we wouldn’t be long, in case he came back looking for noodles. Noah trailed me to the bar, sullen and moody beside me. The guy should be waist-deep in women. He was checking all the boxes on ‘how to get laid every day,’ in my opinion.
Maybe he wasn’t into women?
“Do you think you’ll see anyone that’s your type in the bar?”
Noah squinted as he looked at me. “My type?” He frowned. “What are you trying to ask me?”
“I’m just asking if you have a girl, or a guy, or you know . . .”
Noah was grinning as I squirmed. “I like women,” he said. “And even if I liked guys, you . . . I wouldn’t let you near me.”
“Why? Too good-looking?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” He rolled his eyes. “And because you’re a dick.” Noah shook his head. “And a slutty ho.”
I laughed out loud. “Fair.”
The bar was crowded, Noah had a height advantage, and I had a popularity advantage. Every man and his dog wanted to talk to me, but tonight I didn’t want to say hello to everyone; I wanted to find that girl again.
Then, through the crowd, I saw her. I grabbed Noah’s arm to get his attention, and he looked over the crowd. His face paled, and he turned me away, almost dragging me from the bar.
“What the fuck?” I asked him as we got outside.
“You didn’t ask her name?” he demanded. “Did you look at her at all?”
“Of course I looked at her, she’s fucking gorgeous.”
He stepped closer. “She’s also Hadley Peterson!” he hissed at me.
“Hadley . . . Why does that sound familiar?” His eyes widened as he gave me a ‘what the fuck’ look. “Aw, no, the blogger?” I whispered. “No! Aw, man, c’mon.”
“You stupid—”
“Hello, boys.”
I turned and met her amused gaze.
“So, how’s the football program? Still rotten?”
Dante was going to kill me.
THE END