CHAPTER 27 BENNETT
BENNETT
“Chorizo has to be the most underrated meat,” Nolan says. His mouth is full of breakfast burrito. “No one gives it enough credit.”
“That’s not true,” I say as I suck down a protein drink. “Almost every breakfast burrito has chorizo in it. It’s not underrated at all, rather it’s used very—”
“Okay, dweeb, enough with the stats,” he says before taking another large bite and moaning while exaggerating an eye roll of pleasure.
Why do I hang out with him? It’s a solid question that I’m uncertain I could answer.
He dabs at his face with a napkin and then says, “Got one of the worst blow jobs of my life last night.” He swallows his food and continues.
“It was like she was trying to play my dick like a trombone, which I was into at first, the stroking and sucking at the same time, can’t complain, right? But then she started humming.”
“Humming can be nice,” I say, engaging for God knows what reason.
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought until I figured out what song she was humming.”
“What was it?” I ask.
He places his forearm on the table, glances around the cafeteria, and then leans in closer. “‘Seventy-Six Trombones’ from The Music Man.” I’m about to tell him I don’t know what song he’s talking about, but then he starts humming it for me, the melody familiar in my head.
“Wait, I know that song.”
“Everyone fucking knows it. It’s catchy as shit. But do you know what is not catchy? Humming it on someone’s fucking rock-hard cock. Do you know how difficult it was to maintain an erection while she’s down there, turning my dick into an instrument from The Music Man?”
I snort, because that shit is pretty funny.
“Difficult,” he answers.
“Did you maintain?”
“Of course.” He scoffs. “If anything, I’m a goddamn professional and refuse to let a good boner go to waste.
So I went with it, and as she was blowing me, I closed my eyes, pictured a band formation, and started marching along.
My fear now, though, is that whenever I see a marching band, specifically a trombone, I’m going to get hard. ”
“But I thought you said it was the worst blow job of your life. Wouldn’t a trombone scare you away, rather than turn you on?”
“You would think.” He pats me on the shoulder. “But my mind works in crazy ways.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.”
“What about you? Get any good head last night?”
“Dude, you know I’m going after Bower.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to be celibate.”
“No, it doesn’t, but I also have no interest in fucking anyone else.”
“Does she know that?”
“Yeah, she does.”
“And she feels the same way?” he asks. “Because I saw some pictures of her in a coffee house with Cougar, them laughing, looking all cozy.”
I scoff. “That shit is old.”
He shakes his head. “From two days ago, man.”
“What? No, you read it wrong.”
“I fucking didn’t. I take my celebrity gossip seriously and the girl that I follow, that is 99.9 percent accurate on almost everything, had pictures of them looking all giddy at a coffee house.”
A hint of panic surges through me as I say, “Show me.”
“Can’t take my word for it, fine.” He sets his burrito down, wipes his hand on a napkin, and then types away on his phone until he finds what he’s looking for.
He turns the phone toward me and I take it from him, zeroing in on the screen and the pictures taken of Cougar and Bower at a coffee house, laughing and looking at her computer together.
I glance down at the date and see that it was two days ago, the same day I FaceTimed her.
I shake my head, confused. “This can’t be right. She didn’t tell me anything about seeing Cougar.”
“Do you think she’d say that? Especially when you come off as desperate and needy as you do?”
“Fuck off,” I say as I zoom in on the pictures. Shit, they do look happy, like they’re having a fun time, and of course, that makes me physically ill. Is she really seeing him and possibly thinking about seeing me at the same time?
Are they actually dating?
Or just talking like me and Bower?
Oh fuck…has he…has he kissed her yet? If the answer is yes, it very well might downright destroy me.
“From the green—ill—look in your expression, I’m guessing this is not what you were expecting.”
“Not even fucking a little.” I take a screenshot of the pictures and then text them to my phone. Then I toss his phone back to him and bury my hands in my hair. “Fuck, do you think they’re dating?”
“I don’t know. What has their relationship been like?” he asks. “From what you told me, it was casual, right?”
“Yeah, casual.” I think about it for a second, trying to recount what she’s told me about them, but I can’t fucking remember a goddamn thing. “At least I thought it was casual. Hell, they were going out on morning dates, like five-thirty kind of shit.”
“What the fuck is that?” Nolan shakes his head. “Nah, that’s not serious. That’s tagging her along.”
“Really?” I ask, with a bout of hope I shouldn’t cling to, but it’s all I have at this moment.
“Yeah, no one serious about dating someone is going to only do morning dates. That’s like the courteous date time. Hell, five thirty is not even courteous, that’s the pity date. The date you go on, hoping they don’t show up.”
“I think it’s because it’s the only time he had available.”
“Nah, he could make it work and he’s choosing not to. Now, the question is…where is her head at? Also, you might want confirmation where his head is at, because those pictures don’t seem like an early morning date. More like lunchtime.”
“How can you even tell? They’re in a coffee house,” I say.
Nolan rolls his eyes as if I’m the biggest fucking idiot he’s ever met.
He pulls his phone out again and goes to the pictures.
“See this guy at the table next to them? Classic ham-and-cheese sandwich with soup. No one is eating that at five thirty in the morning. Easily an afternoon date, and if he’s moving her up to the afternoon, then that means she’s moving up on his list of interest. When these pictures are taken at night, that’s when you need to start shitting yourself. ”
Yeah, already fucking there.
“How do I get confirmation?”
“Ask Graydon to ask him.”
I sarcastically laugh, because imagine. “You really think Graydon St. John is going to ask Cougar about his love life?”
“If the price is right, he might.” Nolan takes a bite of his burrito and moans again. “Seriously, I’m going to start campaigning for chorizo.”
“It doesn’t need a campaign,” I nearly yell, frustration taking over. “It’s a wildly popular breakfast meat.”
Nolan has the burrito halfway to his mouth as he stares at me from my outburst. He slowly lowers it to his napkin on the table and says, “Hey, motherfucker, don’t take your frustration out on me.
Be grateful I’m here to support you in your time of need.
” He clears his throat and offers me a bite of his burrito. “To calm your nerves.”
Lips pursed, I get up and slam my chair into the table before taking off toward the locker room, my mind whirling with possibilities and my stomach queasy with the idea that she might still be interested in Cougar.
And where is his head at? How convincing is he? Would he be able to win her over, despite the history we have together?
Fuck, why don’t I know anything about him?
No, the better question is: Why did I follow Nolan’s stupid advice and set them up to begin with?
I pull my phone from my pocket and stare down at the screen, a picture of me and Bower as my wallpaper igniting the simmering rage deep inside me.
Fuck, I have to find out.
No, I need to find out.
And it seems like there’s only one way to do so…