Chapter 24
A RULE FOR A RULE
Ryker
Once the door’s unlocked, I push it open. It smacks hard against the wall.
That feels satisfying. Not quite as satisfying as slamming an opponent into the boards, but this’ll do for now since earlier today I found out that Chase has zero problem with public affection. Zero desire to ask me about it either.
I don’t even give a fuck if he’s in a funk about his team’s loss. Too bad.
“Dude, don’t take it out on my wall,” Chase chides. He’s right behind me since he was waiting in the garage when I arrived and parked my electric car right next to his.
Waiting to tell me he’s now dating Trina. Or fake dating. Or what-the-fuck-ever it is.
How convenient.
I make a show of rubbing my fist against the wall, like I’m removing the nonexistent scratch. “All good.”
“Dude, seriously.” He stares at me like what gives. “Why are you being such a dick?”
But I’m not buying the Ryker’s a little bitch line that he’s selling. Nope. We had a deal. We had ground rules. They did not include deciding on his own that she’s his girl. And she didn’t even think about me either.
I point to my chest. “Me? I’m being a dick?”
He shuts the door quietly, then tips his forehead to the hall. “Lower your fucking voice.”
This is rich. He’s playing the Trina is sleeping card. “Want to take it outside?” I ask, puffing up my chest. We’re not small guys, but I’m bigger, and I’m not afraid to use my size right now.
Or ever for that matter.
He holds up his forefinger. “It’s one wedding date,” he says defensively.
“Oh, and she wants a dance with each of us. She asked about you, man. If you were cool with it too,” he adds, and that’s not helping.
That’s not fucking helping at all to know she was thinking of me.
It makes me like her even more, and this is going to end badly for me.
It just is. “So, I ask again, why is it such a big deal?”
“Gee. That’s a good question.” I scratch my head, like I’m lost in thought. “Maybe because, oh, I don’t know, we didn’t talk about it.”
“And I said why in the garage. It all came up so quickly, and I had to make a decision.”
My chest is a vise, and I can’t stand this too-tight feeling, like something is strangling me. I can’t stand feeling, period. I just wanted to enjoy the victory tonight. To spread Trina out on the bed and take her apart. To work through the sexiest list ever.
Four nights, and I already like her. This is so fucked up. What seemed like fun Friday night—hell, even the next few evenings and mornings—is a mess now. And the mess is inside me.
I stalk into the kitchen, hunting around for a scotch or something, but when I yank open the cupboard this feels all wrong. The glasses are his glasses; the bourbon is his liquor. Nothing is mine. I slam the door shut.
Chase follows me, then lifts his hands almost in surrender, his voice lowering too. “Look, man, someone took a pic of us. Someone else—someone I don’t know—made a decision we were dating. My teammates took that and ran with it. You know how Erik is. He’s relentless. So is Lisette.”
Yeah, but I didn’t kiss Trina in public today. Because of ground rules the three of us set up. And, more so, the ones we didn’t set up. That’s what pisses me off. I took them into consideration, but you didn’t.
I press my lips together so I don’t let that awful truth out. I’d be the schmuck in this temporary threesome.
Pass.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, just to say something. So I don’t seem like I’m silently stewing in my own…self-loathing.
But goddammit. I could have kissed her on the street.
And then where would that have left him?
We’d be two dudes messing around with the same girl, only this time everyone would know.
There is no winning in this situation. Someone will always be the third wheel.
I huff out a breath. “Look, this whole thing is just a bad idea,” I say.
Because, evidently, I can’t handle my own heart. It’s me. I’m the problem.
But Chase isn’t done. He’s pacing, loosening his tie, jerking at the knot.
“No. It’s not a bad idea. It’s just…I made assumptions and then I asked her.
I should have checked with you too, but I didn’t want to draw any more attention to her, or us, or whatever the hell this is,” he says, gesturing wildly to the hall, then the kitchen.
“Like, hey, let me ask Ryker too because…that girl? That fantastic girl? Yeah, we’re both spending the week with her. At my house. No big deal, right?”
When he puts it like that…
Still, I cross my arms. I hate that I’m so annoyed. But mostly, I don’t want him or her to know the truth. I’ve got to keep that locked up.
“And I know we have a pact and all,” Chase adds.
The fucking pact. That’s the thing. That’s the heart of this.
I’m the guy getting shafted again. “We made a pact for a reason. So this shit wouldn’t happen,” I say, even though I know on one level this situation isn’t like Selena-slash-Abby, but hell, if it doesn’t feel like I’ve been blindsided a second time.
“This isn’t the same,” he says, his tone softening at last as he downshifts to apologetic. “Look, we should have made ground rules for public stuff. I should have thought of ground rules for public situations. I didn’t think to do that. That’s on me, man. And I’m sorry.”
Two words—I’m sorry—and it’s impossible for me to stay mad at my friend.
Even though I was never mad at him. Not really. I was mad at myself.
I reach out my hand, it’s all good style. “We’re cool,” I say, letting go of my irritation once and for all.
He smacks back, obviously relieved as he says, “Let’s just make a new ground rule that we’ll talk about stuff that we don’t have a ground rule for.”
“A ground rule for a ground rule. How very meta,” I say dryly.
“And Ryker’s back,” Chase says with a grin, then comes in for a bro hug.
I clap his back when the sound of footsteps grows loud.
Too loud.
Too close.
Followed by the pad of paws.
And then one very angry-looking goddess. “Is that what you think? We’re cool?”