Chapter 25
Jamie
I take my time getting ready.
Jeans — the dark ones, the ones that fit just right. Tight white tee that leaves nothing to the imagination about what's underneath it. Boots. I take my time styling my hair and find the cologne I save for when it matters — woodsy, warm, the kind that lingers.
I look at myself in the mirror.
Rhys thinks this is a one way street. And he's been right — because so far, I've been the one losing control, the one flustered, the one who drove almost an hour and set his keys down on someone else's table like he was planning to stay. I’m the one who keeps losing my cool around him.
But he swiped right on me first. He kissed me first.
And I don't go down without a fight.
Kowalski picks me up at nine exactly because Kowalski is incapable of being late to anything, which I respect. I'm barely in the car before he's pulling away from the curb.
"You look different," he remarks.
"I look the same."
He glances at me sideways, like he’s trying to figure it out, but says nothing.
We drive. The campus thins out into the stretch of road that leads to Cooper's neighborhood and Kowalski has the game tape from this week running through his head because he always does, I can tell by the way he's sitting, that focused intensity he gets when he's working something out.
"Bryce's backhand," he says eventually.
"Still broken."
"He's dropping his elbow."
"I know."
"Someone should tell him."
"I've told him three times."
"Tell him four."
I look at him. "You tell him."
"He listens to you."
"He listens, he just doesn't actually hear it."
Kowalski considers this. Nods once like I've said something profound. We pass the liquor store on the corner and I get an idea, so I tell him to pull over, and he does without asking why because Kowalski trusts my decisions in a way that is both flattering and slightly concerning.
We sit in the parking lot for a hot second.
"Three bottles?" I ask, very seriously.
He looks at the store. Looks back at me.
"Four," he says, even more serious.
I almost smile.
We show up with five bottles of tequila.
The cheer that goes up when we walk through the door is immediate and loud and exactly what I needed.
Cooper's place is already packed. Music too loud, air humid and close from all the bodies pressed together, smoke lingering in a thin veil, red cups everywhere.
Half the team is here, the other half arriving in pieces.
Tonight I'm just here to enjoy myself. For the team. I drop the bottles in the kitchen and climb up onto the nearest table.
"Attention." I tap a bottle against my palm. The room quiets. "This is your former captain speaking." I let the grin come. Don't fight it. "I need one thing from everyone tonight. Get absolutely completely fucked up."
The noise that follows shakes the walls. Hi-fives. Hands clapping my back. I step down and start lining up shots and it feels — good. Genuinely good. Easy in a way I forgot things could feel.
Bennett appears at my elbow immediately. "Nash. You came again,” he says, hope twinkling in his eyes.
"I came." I deadpan.
"You never come."
"I'm here, aren't I?" I give him a small smile.
He looks at me like I've done something remarkable. Then he takes the shot I hand him and wanders off looking pleased with himself. Cooper materializes from somewhere. "Captain. Former captain. Whatever. You brought tequila,” he says, hugging the bottles.
"Yep, I brought tequila." I repeat.
"You're my favorite person on this team."
"You say that to everyone."
"I mean it to you, especially right now." He takes two shots, hands one to someone attractive passing by, and disappears back into the crowd with a wink. Kowalski comes to stand beside me. Doesn't take a shot. Just surveys the room the way he surveys everything — intently, with all his focus.
"Good call," he says.
"Which part?"
"All of it." He glances at me. "They needed to see you like this."
I nod. Keep moving.
I feel his gaze before I find it. Across the room.
Arms crossed. That expression I've been studying for months — except right now it's doing something new.
Something I've never seen on Rhys before.
Confusion. Rhys is never confused. Rhys always knows exactly what's happening and exactly how to use it.
Right now he doesn't know what to do with this version of me.
Good.
I look right at him and hold it. Smile slow and cocky — his smile, the one he uses on me — and lift a shot glass in his direction.
He comes.
Of course he comes.
He moves through the crowd towards me and I feel every step of it before he's anywhere near close. That otherworldly awareness. That pull. I grip his shoulder the way he gripped mine this morning — easy, familiar, like I have every right — and hand him the shot.
He takes it without breaking eye contact.
I hand him another.
He takes that one too. Eyes on mine the whole time. Intense. No flinching.
Then I turn back to the room and I play bartender for a while.
Bryce pulls me into a corner for karaoke — badly, loudly, both of us unbothered — and I let it happen because Bryce didn't do anything wrong and he deserves a good night.
I dance with Bennett and two girls I've never seen before.
Bennett introduces me to them like I'm someone important and I let that happen too.
"This is Jamie," Bennett says. "He's the real captain. In our hearts." He gestures to his chest.
"Oh my god, shut up, Ben," I complain.
One of the girls laughs. "What'd you do?"
"Long story." Bennett opens his mouth.
"Short story," I say firmly.
He closes it. Opens it. “Don’t worry, none of the allegations are true, ladies.”
Jesus Christ.
I end up at the beer pong table with Cooper and Kowalski against two guys from the lacrosse team who have no idea what they've signed up for. Kowalski is terrifyingly good at beer pong, but nobody knows this about him. Everything I’ve learned about Kowalski is surprising.
"You've done this before," one of the lacrosse guys says to him.
"Nope," Kowalski responds, straight-faced, while sinking another shot.
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
It surprises me enough that I miss my next shot and Cooper looks at me like I've grown a second head.
"Did you just—"
"Shut up, Cooper."
"Nash is having fun—" He gestures for everyone to look, pointing at me.
"I'm aware. Fuck off."
I slip upstairs eventually. Just to breathe. The party noise muffled below, the hallway hushed and dim. I lean against the wall and let myself exist without all the noise.
It's been a long week.
A door opens behind me.
No — I'm being pulled through one.
The noise from downstairs quickly disappears behind the closed door. Suddenly I’m in a dark bedroom, alone with who I’ve been trying to avoid.
Rhys. Arms crossed. Dark eyes absolutely furious. Looking at me like I've done something wrong. Which, I suppose from his perspective I have. I smile at him. "Something wrong, Callahan?"