Caught up in the energy of the crowd, I pushed myself forward. I scanned the field and looked for Ryder’s blond head but lost him among the other players. It seemed like it took forever to exit, getting pushed around, nearly tripping over my feet and falling face first.
“Whoa, easy there.” A hand grabbed my arm and helped me right myself.
I consumed myself with checking my rumpled appearance before lifting my gaze. “Tha-thank you.” I swallowed back my surprise when my crush picked up my bag, handing it to me. Starstruck, I choked on my words, and I swore birds chirped as the wind lifted his hair in photo-shoot perfection.
“You bet.” Ryder West, the man himself, winked at me before looking back to the field and the open doors of the locker room, where his teammates were calling him to join them.
“I-you-um.” I laughed, attempting to hide my utter embarrassment, but it was pointless because my face heated and my voice stuttered. I dipped my gaze back down, realizing the moment was over before it even began with him.
“You’re cute,” he said. I popped my head up, unsure if I heard him clearly. He looked me up and down appreciatively. “Say, why don’t you join me later…at the Kappa House.”
My brain seemed to short circuit and I nodded agreeing with him. “Um, all right.” I probably would have agreed to fly to China if he asked me, and I had a passport. It seemed like a good idea. I had no idea where the Kappa House was, but I figured on a campus this small I could ask around, not embarrass myself, and find it.
“See you there, Red.” Ryder brushed past the crowd and left me standing there alone. I looked at a loose lock of hair, rubbing it between my fingers. It was more strawberry, not carrot-top red, but a pure red that plagued me because I stood out like a freak. I dismissed Ryder’s nickname and made my way to the parking lot, hoping to find the Kappa House and scope it out before Ryder showed up.
I walked around for five minutes, shivering in the autumn air when I found a girl I shared an English Lit class with. Her name was something like Adele or Anna, and she dressed up for the game with her face half painted and a jersey for one of the players. She pointed me down the street in the neighborhood of Kappa House.
Lights blinked and cracked concrete sidewalks led the way toward the restored Victorian-style house that hung a banner declaring its Greek life affiliation. People milled about, cleaning up from the tailgate party, and campus security was enhanced by one town cop who looked bored directing student traffic. I recognized him immediately.
Officer Evan Rooney.
Mr. Sup
er Swooney and completely out of my league. If I thought Ryder West was hot in his football gear padded up, Officer Rooney was the real deal in his snug uniform pants with the stripe down the side and shiny badge. Even his hat was hot. I tugged my jacket and scarf tighter. thinking about him.
He leaned against the side of his car in deep conversation with Kristen Calloway who rushed him faster than a running back with the ball to kiss and hug him. Kristen was a gorgeous brunette who ran a PR and fundraising company in town. I knew they had a crazy on-again, off-again thing going on with rumors of an engagement. Who could blame them? Two pretty people fulfilling their baser needs. I wasn’t going to judge.
Evan was rumored to be a player. I didn’t know he was a player, but I did see him entertaining quite a few ladies around town whenever he showed up at the bar. Never heard any complaints about him, but the company was pretty much out there in my face to see, and ladies had no problem filling me in on two-dollar margarita and wing night at Easton’s. He definitely wasn’t a guy looking for the dog, two kids, and a minivan in a nice neighborhood with a white picket fence.
His hands rested on his hips above his Batman tool belt. His gun holstered and his chest puffed out from his bullet proof vest. I got the sense that even without his official police gear, he would look intimidating, big and strong. He made Kristen look delicate, standing next to her in deep conversation. My plan was to walk past and hopefully not get noticed, since I was on my way to fulfilling a dream of my own.
“Remi!” I stopped and turned to wave at Kristen, who waved back. It was shocking that she knew me. I only served them drinks at Easton’s. I wasn’t part of the inner circle of their social group, but it was still nice to be recognized.
Evan for all his glory nodded at me and returned to talking with Kristen. Yeah, that was where I registered, nothing more than a passing glance. Her greeting didn’t invite me to come over per say, so I waved again and hightailed it down the street with the mass of students already in party mode.
The walk to Kappa House took the better part of thirty minutes navigating the crowd. By the time I got there, the party was well underway, and one of the frat guys handed me a beer poured from a keg. I took a sip from the bitter cheap brew and wondered what Andy would say. My boss was a skilled brew master and this was nothing like the creations he made batches of for the pub.
“Thanks.” I swallowed another sour gulp, wrinkling my nose. I wasn’t a big drinker but maybe a cup or two would help me socialize in the crowded house.
“There she is… Red girl.” Ryder West entered the kitchen and removed the offending beer from me. He replaced it with a bottled one he opened right in front of me. I wondered if he even knew my name.
“Thanks, I do have a name, you know.” Somewhere between the walk from the stadium to the frat house, I found a spine. A small one, but still it was better than being a wide-eyed, adoring, mute female. It was probably the alcohol talking.
“I bet you’re going to tell me what it is, but let’s get out of here first. This place is loud as fuck.” And just like that Ryder West walked me from downstairs to upstairs, where his room was located. The music thumped from below, creating a buzzing vibe under my feet that matched the alcohol fueled buzz in my brain.
“Casa de West?” I asked.
Ryder laughed. “It is for now. I like the frat house better than the shared athletic housing on campus.” I understood the allure of a private space with a separate bathroom you didn’t have to share. That’s why I had my studio apartment above the bar. It was cheap, clean, and all mine.
“I’m guessing you know me, but I’m Ryder West.”
“I kind of got that from your jersey. I’m Remington Kennedy, part time student and barmaid at Easton’s Pub.” I shrugged, longing to defuse my awkwardness.
“I love that place. Good beer, better than the swill those dumbasses tried to give you downstairs.” He clinked his bottle with mine and chugged his down.
“Yeah, I think my boss would have choked trying that mainstream lite beer.” Ryder sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next him. Warily, I sat down next to him, and he took my beer, placing it on his nightstand. We talked for hours. The topics ranged from our opinion on which Star Wars movie was the best so far and what we could expect from the next batch of movies to how we were politically on the same wavelength. We ended up falling asleep on his bed; he made his move the next morning.
Sex was seriously overrated.