And she'd been right. Except it had been a guy that had done what she'd begun to think was impossible. Megan felt justified in taking some credit. She was the one that had dragged Abby to the party where she'd met Lance. And she'd helped push them together a little bit along the way, encouraging Abby to give Lance a chance, even when Abby kept insisting it couldn't be anything serious. The best part had been organizing their reunion. When Lance had called her to get her help, she'd jumped up and down and had to avoid Abby for hours afterward so Abby didn't think she was crazy because she couldn't stop smiling.
She was so happy for Abby. Sad for herself since she wasn't living with her best friend anymore, but happy for her friend to find someone that cared about her and wasn't afraid to show it. Who wouldn't be easily pushed away and wouldn't bail like the other men in Abby's life had.
Thinking about Abby and Lance had her feeling so happy that she forgot for a second that she had a splitting headache. She got up off the floor. And immediately regretted it when the room spun and her head felt like it was filled with cement. She let out a groan with a hand on her forehead, her pulse pounding in her temples.
A soft knock sounded at her bedroom door. “Megan? Can I come in?” It was Matt.
She stumbled to the door, opened it wide enough to lean in the opening, and gave him her signature hangover death glare. He grinned down at her and held up a glass of water. “I have water and ibuprofen. I thought you could use it.”
Megan eased up on the death glare and opened the door further so she could take the water and painkillers. She eyed him over the top of her cup after throwing the pills in her mouth. His blond hair was messy, but that wasn't unusual. He didn't look all that bleary eyed. She took a few swallows, making sure the pills didn't get caught in her throat. Then drank some more to get the residual vomit taste out of her mouth. “Thanks. How come you're so chipper?”
Matt shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. His pecs and biceps bulged in full view, the tattoo on his right arm looking like it was rippling. He wasn't wearing a shirt. “I didn't get shit-faced last night.”
His voice dragged Megan's eyes off his naked torso. He was grinning at her, his blue eyes twinkling. She took another drink of water. “You didn't? I thought Chris was supposed to be the DD.”
“Yeah. He was. He changed his mind, and since you were already well on your way to completely trashed, I got the job instead.”
Megan realized that water couldn’t take care of the taste in her mouth and gestured Matt into her room. She went into the bathroom and got out her toothbrush. The water was helping her feel a little more alive already, and soon the ibuprofen would kick in, dulling the throbbing of her head. A minty fresh mouth would only make things better. She spread some toothpaste on the brush and stuck it in her mouth before standing in the doorway. “’Splain.”
Matt's grin grew wider. “There's not much else to explain. Chris got pissed about something and started drinking shots of tequila like water. I'd only had a few beers at that point, and I don't know how many drinks you'd had, but if they were all as strong as you like, you'd had quite a bit by then. Don't you remember me making you alternate with water after a while?”
Megan thought back to the night before. A vague recollection of her drunkenly telling Matt how he was ruining all her fun filtered into her memory. Heat prickled up her neck and over her cheeks. “Um, yeah. I think I remember something about that.”
Matt laughed. “I don't think I've ever seen you blush before. I didn't know you had it in you.”
Megan flipped him off. “Don't get used to it. It doesn't happen often.”
He just laughed again. “No worries. You're an entertaining drunk. Which is better than I can say for Chris. He was a moody drunk last night. He's usually not that bad.”
“Yeah. He seemed off to me too.” She ducked back into the bathroom to spit and rinse out her mouth.
When she came back out, Matt was standing. “We always get breakfast burritos from this little place that serves them all day. Let me know what you want and I'll bring you one.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Cool. Come on out whenever. Chris is still in bed, so he won't bother you.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded and walked out of her bedroom, closing the door behind him. It was nice of Matt to try to make her feel welcome. He seemed to have decided to take on the role of protector where she was concerned. Including her in what he and Chris were doing, making sure she drank water at the party last night, keeping overeager guys away from her, bringing her hangover remedies and food this morning. He was a good guy.
If Chris could just get with that program, living here wouldn't be too bad.
* * *
Chris drifted out of the athletic center on his way to his first class. Maybe the last time ever he'd be going to his first class. Not because he'd be graduating in December—that was out of the question—but because he might not bother coming back in the spring. He was only here still so he could play his last season.
When Megan had mentioned that she worked as a tutor it made him wonder if she could help him manage to graduate. Part of the reason he was considering just quitting once the semester was over was because he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to graduate in May. Maybe if he actually tried. But that meant he needed to care. That was the real sticking point.
As if thinking of her had conjured her up, Megan appeared in front of him. She came out of a building he’d never been in on the other side of the grass from him. From this angle he couldn't see the name of the building, so he had no idea what it was. She was looking down at something in her hands and hadn't noticed him watching from the sidewalk across the way.
A guy came out behind her and said something to her. He was too far away to hear, but it obviously wasn't nice. Megan stiffened, and she turned to face the newcomer. Even in profile Chris could tell she was pissed. Their exchange got more heated.
Chris wanted to step in, but he didn't know if his help would be welcome. Megan had avoided them yesterday, leaving the house and staying gone for hours. Not that he had any room to complain. He'd done the same thing the day before. Matt had kept her company all day, which irritated Chris. He'd wanted to try to talk to her, but not with Matt sitting next to her on the couch.
Just because their home life was starting out awkwardly didn't mean he wanted to see some guy getting her riled up. He wanted to rile her up, and not in the way this guy was doing. He'd decided to leave her alone, but that didn't mean he should let her fend for herself against assholes when he could do something about it.
Decision made, he hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and started across the grass, his free hand clenched in a fist at his side. The guy that was bothering Megan looked up and his eyes widened a little before his normal, arrogant look returned to his face. He said one more thing in Megan's ear, low enough that Chris still couldn't hear, and walked off.
Megan turned to face him, still looking mad. He lifted a hand, about to reach out for her to offer some kind of comfort but let it drop. He shouldn't touch her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
He snorted. “Really? 'Cause you don't sound fine. Who was that?” He looked in the direction that the asshole had gone.
“Isaac.” Megan's voice was tight, and her feelings about Isaac were clear.
“Ex-boyfriend?”
“God, no. Not for lack of trying, though.” He raised his eyebrows at that. She noticed and let out a laugh, but it sounded mean, not her usual full laugh that he really liked. “On his part, not mine. I thought I made that clear over the summer, but he doesn't like to take no for an answer.”
Chris didn't like the sound of that. He looked her over again. Her face was relaxing a little and she looked less pissed off. She didn't look close to tears, which was good. If that asshole had made her cry, he'd have to find him and make him cry. “Okay. If he keeps bothering you, let me know.”
Megan laughed again, this one a little more genuine sounding. “Thanks. That's sweet, but completely unnecessary.”
She turned to go in the opposite direction of where he was headed. Chris stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m serious. If he keeps bothering you like that, tell me. Or if you don't want to tell me, at least tell Matt. You don't need assholes treating you like that.”
Megan narrowed her eyes. “How much did you hear?”
“Nothing. I could tell by your reactions that it wasn't a nice chat with an old friend. If he's bothering you, we'll make sure he decides it's in his best interest not to.”
Megan maintained eye contact, and they were frozen like that for a minute—eyes boring into each other, his hand gripping her bicep. He wasn't going to back down on this, though, and she needed to know that. He and Matt looked out for their own, and whatever else was going on, she was their roommate and best friends with Lance's girl. She was part of their group now, whether she liked it or not.
She broke first, dropping her eyelids and stepping back so they weren't touching anymore. “Okay. Fine. He's harmless, though. All talk.”
“All talk? What kind of talk? What did he actually say to you?”
Megan looked him in the eye again. “Nothing important. I promise I'll tell you if he keeps bothering me.” She checked the time on her phone. “I have a class. I'll see you at home.”
He nodded and watched her walk away until she got out of sight. He finally turned and walked to his own class. His palm tingled where he'd touched her skin. Matt was right. He needed to keep his hands off her if he couldn’t fuck her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chris took off his pads, ready for a shower after another hot practice. He looked forward to September and the cooler weather. September and October were perfect for football. Not too hot and not too cold. The night games in October got pretty chilly, but as long as you were playing it wasn't too bad. November was a mixed bag. It could be like October and not be too cold. Or it could be snowy, or raining and thirty-three degrees, which was the worst. There was nothing more miserable than being soaked at nearly freezing temperatures. He'd rather it dropped a few degrees and just turned to snow.
A voice from the next bank of lockers caught Chris's attention. “I’m telling you, dude. She told me she's living with two guys. What I wouldn't give to be one of them.”
Chris dropped his jersey and stood up, not moving, waiting to hear more. He wasn't disappointed.
“You think they get up to some kinky shit?” Another voice. Sniggers and laughter followed the question.
“I don't know, man, but I'd love to find out.” The first voice again, putting extra emphasis on the word love. More laughter. “Those curls would be perfect for grabbing hold and hanging on.”
“How do you know she's not shaved?” A different voice this time, followed by the sound of something hitting a locker.
“I meant the curls on her head, sicko.”
“I’m not the one fantasizing about a threesome with another guy!” Another thud of something hitting a locker, followed by more laughter.
“I didn't say anything about a threesome!”
“Why didn't you tap that at the party over the weekend then?”
The first guy made a derisive noise, a combination of a snort and a growl. “Her roommates wouldn't let anyone near her for long enough to get a chance. All the more reason to suspect she's boning both of 'em.”
Chris had heard enough. He rounded the corner, fists clenched, ready to beat someone down. A girl at the party with curly hair that lived with two guys? No way they weren't talking about Megan. And the fact that the jackass acknowledged her roommates were protecting her from assholes like him just clinched it.
There were three guys there, two still in their pants and one sitting on the bench with a towel across his lap. He grabbed the guy he assumed was the first speaker and slammed him against the lockers. At least he wasn't the one in the towel. He recognized him as one of the guys that had danced with Megan at the party on Saturday. He was pretty sure he’d seen the guy with his hands all over her ass.
“Dude! What's your problem?” Yup. Chris had the main shit-talker.
“You're my problem.” He shoved him into the lockers a little harder, banging the asshole's head again, his left arm barred across the guy's throat, his right hand ready to administer a beating if necessary. He felt another pair of hands pulling at his shoulder, but he didn't pay them any attention.
The asshole's eyes darted around, looking behind Chris. Probably hoping for someone to save him. Chris looked him over. He was some pissant little sophomore that wasn't even a starter yet. He was on defense, but Chris couldn't remember his name. Right now he didn't give a shit.
Chris exerted a little more pressure with his arm until the pissant's eyes returned to his face, bugging out just a little. Chris curved his lips in a menacing smile. “Good. I have your attention.” He paused. “If I ever hear you running your mouth about her again, you're not going to be able to talk for a long time afterward.” The guy's eyes bulged more while Chris increased the pressure for a second before he let go. He pulled away in disgust and grabbed a spare towel to wipe the other guy's sweat from his arm. The other two guys were staring at him as he tossed the towel back on the bench. “That goes for all of you.”
“I don't know what you're talking about, man. We were just—” The little pissant didn't get to finish that sentence. Chris had his arm across his neck again, his head hitting the lockers harder than before.
“You know exactly what I'm talking about. You might be a piece of shit, but there's no way you're that stupid.” Chris punched the lockers next to the asshole's head for emphasis. “Leave her alone. Don't touch her. Don't talk to her. Don't talk about her. She's off-limits.”
Chris let him go and turned to walk away. “That must be some pussy to make you act like that.”
White-hot fury rose up inside Chris. He charged the asshole again, this time intending to knock his teeth into his throat. A pair of hands caught his bicep, keeping his arm back. Another pair grabbed his other arm. Together they pulled him back, away from the asshole who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. When he was a safe distance away from that little pissant sophomore again, he shook off the guys holding him back. “Not another word about her.”
He turned to see Matt give him a questioning look. Matt obviously hadn't heard anything, or else he'd've helped him pound the guy into a pulp instead of holding him back. But it was for the best. He'd be suspended from the first two games for fighting if Matt hadn't intervened.
Chris filled Matt in later, after they were gone and neither of them could give that little asshole the beating he deserved. Matt's face turned thunderous. Good. At least Chris wasn't the only one who wanted to protect Megan. Not that he'd doubted Matt, it was just nice that he wasn't on his own.
“We'll have to keep her away from the parties the team goes to.”
Chris nodded. “Definitely. But how do you think we'll manage that?”
One corner of Matt's mouth quirked up in a half smile. It was sad looking, though, and Chris wasn't sure why. “I don't think it'll be too hard. She didn't seem to have as much fun as normal at the party on Saturday. I doubt she'll want to party with us or our teammates again any time soon.”
Chris didn't understand. She hadn't had fun? She'd seemed like she was having a good time when they'd played chicken fight and later when she was dancing. With practically everyone. Chris suppressed the growl that was fighting to come out. He hadn't liked seeing her dance with all those guys, watching them put their hands all over where he wanted to touch and couldn't. It was probably best that they wanted to keep her away from the team's parties, because he couldn't handle watching her party like that and not being able to be the one touching her.
Instead of voicing his confusion, Chris just grunted. If Matt was right it would just make things easier, so he let it go.
* * *
M
egan settled into the rhythm of the semester within a couple of weeks. Chris and Matt were gone the first two weekends with away games, which made it easy to unpack and settle in and start to feel more at home in her new place. She'd started to get some drop-in clients in the tutoring center. The first papers were starting to be assigned in the English classes, and assignments were getting more difficult. Things would only continue getting harder until finals were over in early December, making people seek out help. She also had a few regular tutoring clients, including Matt, who’d gotten special permission from his coach to use her as his tutor instead of his assigned tutor. He said he had a history with his assigned tutor and didn't feel he'd learn well from her this semester.
Megan stood at the stove chuckling to herself at the memory of Matt telling her about how he'd broken up with his tutor, who he'd dated last year. He was a funny guy, and had a self-deprecating sense of humor that made his antics almost endearing instead of slap-worthy. She still couldn't believe he'd broken up with her by text. What an ass.
On Friday night Megan decided to make dinner. The guys’ first home game was this weekend, so she wanted to make sure they got a big dinner full of protein and carbs to see them through tomorrow. She smiled to herself while she whisked together the ingredients for an Alfredo sauce. It would be perfect over the shrimp and chicken on a bed of fettuccine. She used to help her mom do this for her brothers when she was growing up.
The memory of happy times with her mom made her feel a little pang of regret. Her parents wouldn't approve of her living with two guys. They were conservative and religious. With a mental shrug, she pushed the thoughts away. They didn't approve of her life at all since she left home. They thought her art major was frivolous and unsuitable, and they didn't like that she partied. Her relationship with them was strained at the best of times, and her brothers didn't help. They weren't perfect angels, but they put on the front to please their parents and encouraged her to do the same. But Megan couldn't bring herself to lie to her parents. Of all the things she'd been taught growing up, honesty was the thing that stuck. So instead of lying, she just didn't talk to her parents much or go home to visit. In fact, she hadn't been home since last Christmas, even though her parents only lived forty-five minutes away. The lack of contact had prompted her mom to increase her efforts, though. She'd been calling more and more often over the summer, and Megan knew she shouldn't keep ignoring her or only talking for a few minutes when she did answer. She just didn't want to deal with the disapproving silence or the pleas for her to move back home.
Convenient Fall (Players of Marycliff University Book 2) Page 3