I glance around our table. “Make it last, brothers,” I say. “We’re packing it in early tonight.”
Devon groans. “You’re such a hard-ass.”
The guys chuckle, but I know it’s in good spirit. They get how important this season is. It’s our year—many of our last—to bring home the championship. We can’t afford to let one night of fun hinder our game.
Braxton won the bid for the playoff to be held here. That means the pressure is on for us to slaughter in the regular season—to impress the committee enough to secure our spot. I can almost feel the tension radiating off the guys sitting around me now, the thought hovering just above the celebratory atmosphere.
“I’m out early, anyway,” Gavin announces. He downs half the beer the waitress hands him in one long chug. Slamming the tumbler down on the table, gaining the group’s notice, he adds, “Got to get my celebrating on the right way.” He swats a hand through the air, miming spanking an ass.
“Ah,” I say. “That’s fucking worse, dude. Last time you spent the night with Laney, your game was shit.” I eye him.
But my words fall on deaf ears as he’s distracted by something over my shoulder. I turn to see
Laney and her group of cheerleaders entering the bar. With a hard shiver, Laney pulls her jacket tight against her. Then, snagging the whole bar’s attention, she proceeds to peel the outerwear layer off, revealing a skimpy top and short skirt number.
Swiveling around in my chair, I note every guy’s gaze trained on the girls. Hell, there goes that. “Practice. Early. Morning.” I punctuate each word, snapping a few heads back my way. “Don’t make me bust balls tomorrow,” I warn.
“Bust ‘em all you want,” Gavin says, rising from his chair. He slugs back the rest of his beer, then grunts. “But I’m bustin’ a nut first, dude.”
A collective rumble of laughter circles the tables.
I shake my head, always amazed at how Gavin can twist everything back around to his dick. Though, really, I didn’t want to have that mental image on the field tomorrow when I’m running drills.
The girls saunter over, and Laney takes up Gavin’s side, plastering her body against his. He reaches down and grabs her ass, lifting her off the ground, and she squeals.
I look away—and my gaze lands on two girls coming into the bar.
One of which is Arian.
A strange dip bottoms out my stomach. My feet are turning in her direction before my brain catches up, then I grip the edge of the table, straining to keep myself seated.
“Damn, bro.” Beck nudges my side. “I think I might try for a piece of that.” My head swings around to see him staring right at Arian. “I could handle a little stuck up attitude if it meant getting those legs wrapped around me.”
My face heats. My muscles bunch, neck aching. But before my mouth is open to say…something, Jeremy speaks up. “Hell, I’d fuck the snotty right out of her.” He laughs, getting a fist bump from Beck.
My knuckles turn white on the table. “So vandalizing her car was, what…?” I look between them. “Your equivalent to picking on a girl you like? You think she’ll just shrug that shit off and fuck your brains out?” I wince at my own dumb-ass words. I don’t like the image I just put in my head. Even to make a point.
“Chill, man.” Beck raises his beer to take a sip. “We’re just fucking around. We know you got dibs on that. First, anyway.” He winks at me.
Hell. “Forget you guys.” I push my tumbler of Coke away. I’m not sure why I’m in such a foul mood all of a sudden. I’ve sat right here, hundreds of times over the past few years, and laughed while they talked about nearly every girl on campus this way.
But Arian’s different—in the way that I’ve made some kind of unspoken claim to her. One I feel the rest of these hard legs should recognize. My insides coil tight at the memory of calling her a bitch. No excuse; just asinine on my part. But that wasn’t their cue to start pissing circles around her.
From my peripheral, I see her and her friend take a seat at the bar. My attention is painfully divided by the conversation going on about a new play we’re running tomorrow and Arian talking to the bartender.
I zone out like this for a while until I hear: “Lap dance!”
My full attention goes to the guys as they beckon the group of cheerleaders to dance for them. This happens often, too. I don’t think anything of it, my attention being diverted away again, then I spot Beck—my OT—motioning toward Arian.
“We need a couple more girls, man,” he says to Jeremy. “Hey, yo! Condom girl!” He tries to wave her over, and I cringe when I think of how she’ll respond. I feel the sudden need to duck. “I have a free lap that needs a hot little ass on it.” He pats his big thighs. “Come give big daddy a dance.”
To her credit, Arian ignores him easily. Which is not so simple to do, considering the guy is massive. Not just tall but thick and stocky. He guards my ass on the field. But Arian doesn’t even waste a glance his way.
I consider telling him to knock it off, but Beck’s already up and walking toward her. Without another thought, I spring from my chair.
“Actually,” Beck says when he’s just a couple feet from her. “I think my man Ryder needs that dance more.” He nods toward me, and I squeeze my eyes closed for a brief second. Shit.
Arian twirls around on her stool, her face pinched. Mouth tight. “By all means,” she says, waving her hand through the air, “don’t let me stop you. Give it to him good. And make it sexy.” Her head nods encouragingly while she says this, and a laugh slips from my mouth.