Chapter 3
Oscar
There’s something about Maren that piques my interest. Even when I try to look away, she holds my attention like a vice grip.
“She’s feisty,” I lean over and whisper into Jax’s ear as she walks away and I take in her confident posture, one that reminds me of a dancer.
“I mean you are being a little obnoxious tonight. But I’ll allow it because we’re here to turn your day around.” His reply is a weird mix of pity and annoyance.
“She’s a sweet girl. Not your typical rebound,” Rikki adds.
“Have you met her before?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“No, but Ruby loves her, and has nothing but wonderful things to say.” Softness rolls over Ruby’s name as he says it, making it clear he adores her.
“When the fuck did you get so chummy with Ruby?” Sammy pipes in.
“I stop here from time to time after a game. The crab cakes are the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” Rikki closes his eyes and hums in delight.
“Is that right?” I ask sarcastically.
He stands from the table, “I said what I said. Just wait, I’ll go get them off that table of apps she set up so you can try one and see for yourself.”
“Not to be a dick,” Jax leans over and whispers, “but is this really a conversation you want to be having with Pippi there, on your lap, waiting to devour you?”
I make a mental note of his clever nickname for her, given her red hair. It suits her.
“She clearly doesn’t mind,” I whisper back.
“When did you become such an asshole to chicks? That’s not like you,” he scolds back in a whisper.
“Since I walked in on the one I thought I’d marry fucking my friend.” I shift in my seat, indicating to the redhead on my lap, whose name I should know, that I need to get up. “I’ve gotta piss.”
Do I really have to piss? Yeah. Is that the reason I left the table?
Hell no. I was suffocating. As soon as the bathroom door opens and I’m engulfed by the privacy of the small space, I lock the door and shake.
Uncontrollably. I lean against the wall and pinch the bridge of my nose trying to stop the burn of unwanted tears.
You can’t let people see you fall apart.
I’d rather take a hot poker to the eye than let that bitch see pictures of me sulking in the corner of a bar. The photos are inevitable, and it will be a cold day in hell before she sees the pain she’s caused.
I take one long breath, straighten my hair in the mirror, and convince myself that a cleat chaser is a good idea. Pictures of me leaving with one will drive Tatum crazy.
I splash some water on my face, take a deep breath, and walk out of the bathroom.
Looks like Pips left, I think to myself as I return to the table.
Alright 2 out of 3… a tattoo it is.
The whiskey is settling in and I have a nice buzz going, but there is no way any tattoo artist in their right mind would let me in their chair drunk. Not that I really want to pick a permanent marking without a clear head.
But fuck, it hurts so good. It would dull the ache building inside.
I tap my foot on the floor as I contemplate my situation. Looks like I’ll have to settle for 1 out of 3, and no revenge photos.
My phone vibrates on the table, and then everyone else’s starts going off as well. Who the fuck is texting in the group chat right now? We’re all here.
I pick up my phone and see a text from Rafael.
Rafael: It’s been good playing with you, my brothers. T and I will both be moving on.
“Fuck him.” I throw my phone across the table. “Moving on, or were you fired because you were fucking my girl and got caught?”
My phone falls off the table and I down the remainder of my drink.
“Start a new fucking chat without the shit bag, and hand me the bottle,” I yell at no one in particular. When I look around I realize all eyes are on me, and just as predicted, there are a few tourists with their phones out—on me.
“I think you dropped this.” The redhead’s back—perfect.
She hands me my phone, which now has a cracked screen protector. She leans in close and I make a mental note to put a new one on in the morning. “What do you say we get out of here and you make me the one to yell profanities instead?”
I hesitate for a second, questioning if I can really go through with a one night stand right now. I’ve only ever been with one person. She bites my earlobe just enough that the sting erases the pain, and I stand, give a wave to the guys, and lead her to the door.
No. I can’t, but I can at least walk her home and let the cameras tell a different story.
“Where are you staying?” I ask as we approach the door, but the waitress catches my attention shifting it away from the redhead beside me. She’s talking to Ruby behind the bar, and something about her smile makes the night seem a little less dark.