We’re only a few minutes in before the tension in the room makes me start to ramble. “Is watch a movie still code for make out or have I been out of the game too long?”
He answers with a chuckle. “What?”
“I’m just curious if you asked me up here to make out or if we’re really watching this movie.”
He just shakes his head. “Watch the movie, beautiful.”
20
Zeke
The next day I’m in the weight room when Wes tracks me down.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I pull my headphones down around my neck but go right into my next set of squats. “Been right here,” I grunt out.
He waits until I’ve finished and moved to add more weight before he asks, “Everything okay?”
My eyes narrow and concern flashes in his. “Everything’s fine. Why?”
Immediately, I regret giving him more ground because the concern turns to amusement. “Maybe because this is your third workout today. Is this the workout of a man with a mission or a man that is working off his sexual frustration?”
I flip him off, but he’s not totally off base. “Just focused. I’ve got interviews coming up, graduation, I got my invitation to the combine… my head is spinning.”
I’m feeling… anxious and all sorts of unprepared and no amount of working out seems to help.
He moves to help me add on the appropriate weight to the other side of the bar and asks, “So the crazy amount of working out isn’t because you’re in a Gabby-induced blue ball hell?”
“No.”
Wes stills with the weights, waiting for me to say more.
“We’re just…” Friends seems like the wrong word, but it’s the only one I can think of. “We’re friends is all.”
“Alright, if you say so.”
I do another set with him spotting me. When I rack the weight, he helps me unload the bar wordlessly. He sits on a bench and looks around the room. “I can’t believe this is all really happening. It’s not going to be the same next year without you. We had a lot of good times. I’m gonna miss it.”
“Me too.” I will. It’s been the best four years of my life, but it’s the next years of my life that I’ve been working toward for as long as I can remember.
“Does Sara still think you’ll go top five?”
“Depends on which team gets the top picks. Suns could be a possibility. They’ve had a crap season and Sara says there’s been some interest there, but everything is up in the air.” I shrug. “I’m just gonna show up and hope I get picked up by someone who will give me some floor time next year.”
I drain my water bottle and we sit, contemplative and nostalgic. Finally, Wes stands. “You done for the night?”
“Yeah, I was about to head out.”
“Good. We’re going to The Hideout.” He holds up a hand before I can protest. “Joel insisted that we need to officially celebrate my getting the coaching job and if I have to go, so do you.”
“How many more last hurrah parties you think he’s going to throw?”
Wes chuckles. “My guess? A lot.”
* * *
It’s just the roommates tonight. Which is nice. Since Wes and Joel got girlfriends, we don’t hang like this much anymore. I’m like ninety-nine percent sure their girlfriends are going to drop in “unexpectedly” later, though.
When we got to The Hideout, it was some relief to find out that Gabby was working and I wouldn’t have to watch the door wondering if she was going to show up with Blair and Katrina. But just being in the same room has me a little on edge. When she’s close, I start to forget my reasons for not making a move on her. When she’s bringing me food, it’s especially hard.
Appetizers and entrees are piled in front of us. Joel ordered damn near one of everything on the menu, most of which is strictly off-limits until I drop another two pounds. I stick to water and salad, which makes the guys snicker. Whatever, they can laugh all they want, but I know they’d do exactly the same thing if they were in my shoes.
“I grabbed this in case you were still hungry.” Gabby sets a bowl of steamed vegetables in front of me and my mouth waters.
“You’re an angel.”
“And what better to chase carrots than Jager.” Joel passes out shots and then raises his in the air and looks at Wes. Wes and Nathan raise their shots. It’s not like I can say no when it’s in honor of Wes’ job, so I lift mine too. “To Coach Dubya.”
It’s the first of many shots, and as it turns out, Blair and Katrina don’t show up but I kind of wish they had when the guys are all sloppy drunk and it’s just me with enough wherewithal to get us home.
“Hey, Gabby. What time do you get off?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Think you could drive us back to the house? We forgot to make sure we had a sober driver. I could call one of the guys, but since you’re here.”
“Oh, um, I don’t have a car here.”
I frown. “Okay, well, you can drive mine. That’s no problem.”
She shifts uncomfortably, eyes on her shoes.
“Gabby?”
“I don’t drive.”
“What do you mean you don’t drive? How do you get around?”
“Blair, Uber, walk.” Her cheeks pink. “I could call Blair. She was trying to stay away so you guys could have a proper guys’ night, but I’m pretty sure she’s waiting by the phone for Wes to call so she can run over and see him.”
I glance back at Wes. His eyes are half-closed. “Don’t think he’s gonna be awake that long. Wait, how are you going to get home?”
She flushes again. “Uber.”
Brady calls for her and she offers a meek wave as she walks away. I text Mario for backup and round up the guys.
“Alright, buddy, time to get out of here,” I say to Wes and help him to his feet.
“Blair here?”
“Nope, just us guys.”
“Fuck, I miss her. Is that weird?” he asks, words slurred. “I don’t care. I love that girl.”
I say nothing, just hold him steady as we move to the door. I’m about to write off his sentiments as drunken babble when he looks me dead in the eye and says, “Don’t be such a hard ass all the time. You’re focused, I dig it, and you’re about to get everything you ever wanted, but it won’t be enough if you’re all alone. Ball won’t be enough.”
* * *
Gabby
I hide in the back until Mario shows up to drive the guys home. Every humiliating moment of the past two weeks and Zeke has to be present for all of them. Why couldn’t I just lie and tell him my license was expired or something not as embarrassing as the fact I haven’t been able to get back behind the wheel since my car accident?
I see Zeke look around for me, but eventually he ducks out too and I slump against the counter and breathe a sigh of relief. I’m already off the clock, so I grab my stuff and head out to wait for my Uber.
When I push out the front door, Zeke steps away from the building.
“What are you doing here? I thought you guys left.”
“They did,” he says. “I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Actually, it is. I don’t have a ride now either.”
It’s a short drive, less than five minutes this late at night, and when the car pulls up in front of my place, I give my thanks to both men.
“Give me a minute,” Zeke tells the driver and follows me up the sidewalk and to my front door.
“Do you want to come in for a drink or we could watch a movie or something?”
“I should get back, check on the guys. In the future, if you need a ride, then call me.”
“Yeah, okay.” I roll my eyes. Of all the people I might call for a ride, he’s not even in the top ten. How mortifying.
“I’m serious.”
“Oh, I know, but it’s no big deal. I’ve got it covered just fine. I can
take care of myself.”
He lifts a brow.
“Goodnight, Zeke.”
* * *
The next night I’m finishing up the assigned reading for my economics class when I get a text. I smile like a fool when I see Zeke’s name.
Zeke: You home?
Me: Yep
Zeke: I’m in the parking lot.
I’m still staring down at the phone when another comes in.
Zeke: Bring your purse and lock your door, you’re coming with me.
21
Gabby
Zeke leans on the hood of his black 4-Runner, one long leg crossed over the other.
“Hey,” I call a little tentatively and a whole lot breathless. “What are we doing?”
He holds up the keys and jingles them in the air. “We’re gonna sit in my car.”
“Ooookay.” I head to the passenger side.
“Uh-uh, that’s my side.” He steps in front of me, his big frame blocking my way.
“I don’t drive.”
“Who said anything about driving?” I still don’t budge until he adds, “I made a playlist special for the occasion.”
Zeke opens the door for me, and I slide into his seat with a nervous laugh because it’s so far back I can’t even see over the steering wheel. I adjust the seat as Zeke runs around and climbs into the passenger side.
His car is clean, and his scent permeates the air. He reaches over and turns the car on and then settles back into the leather seat, hooking his phone up and finally smiling as Billy Ocean’s “Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car” starts playing. Then he reaches into the back seat and brings back a plastic bag which he sets on his lap and starts to dig through with excitement.
“Water.” He hands me a bottle. “And one for me.” He puts his water between his legs and continues to rummage. “And you get your choice of… well, everything.” He dumps the contents out into his lap. Chips, candy, gum.
“You’re not going to try and kiss me, are you?” I ask playfully. His eyes widen in surprise or maybe panic, and I laugh. “Just checking before I eat an entire bag of Funyuns.”
He hands them over with a grin. “You’re safe.”
I dig into the onion-flavored rings and Zeke shuffles through the playlist, grinning adorably each time I laugh or smile at the songs he selected.
I’m enjoying his company and have completely forgotten the reason behind this charade until he asks, “Have you driven since the accident?” There’s no judgment in his tone, but I feel inferior in front of this man who, as far as I can tell, isn’t scared of anything except hashtags.
“No.” I stare at the last Funyun in my bag.
He ducks his head down so his face is in front of mine. “Hey, I get it. It’s gotta be scary to get back behind the wheel after something like that.”
A full-body tremor takes over at the memory. The out of control feeling as the car had hydroplaned and then the moment just before impact when I had been helpless to do anything but brace myself for the worst.
“I used to love to drive,” I say and run a hesitant hand over the steering wheel. “I had a cherry red convertible. Blair was so jealous because her parents got her this used beater with the manual locks and windows, but my dad works at a car dealership, so I got the whole new car with a bow on top for my sweet sixteen.” I sigh at the memory. “We looked good riding around in that car, blasting Beyoncé.”
“I bet you did.”
“When my parents wanted to replace my car with the insurance money, I wouldn’t let them get another nice car. I made them get me an awful little used, compact number.” I point to it in the parking lot. “I thought maybe it’d help, but I haven’t been able to drive it either.”
“I’ve got an idea,” he says and puts on his seat belt. “Drive my car over and park next to yours.”
“Zeke, I—”
“Buckle up, buttercup.”
I do as he says, but I don’t move to put the car into drive. “I can’t.”
“Sure, you can. I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Then he pats the dash of his car. “Or you, sweetheart.”
To be honest, I’m not sure why I put the car in drive, but I do, and it gives me a rush.
“Good girl. Now just pull beside your car. It looks so lonely over there by itself.”
I let the car roll forward just an inch, my breath hitches, I slam my eyes closed and hit the brakes. Hard.
To his credit, Zeke says nothing for several long moments until I pry my eyes open.
“You good?”
I laugh at the absurdity of the question. “No.”
He chuckles quietly. “You’re doing great. Take your time.”
Sweat beads up at the nape of my neck, but finally, I pull the car out of the parking spot and drive it the short distance. I leave so much space between my car and his, I’m taking up two spots, but I did it! I let go of the steering wheel and turn to Zeke, who smiles like a fool. He puts the car in park, and I unbuckle and throw myself at him. Arms around his neck, I have him in a death grip. “Thank you.”
One arm caresses my back. “I didn’t do anything.”
I pull back so I can look him in the eye. “I just drove.”
“I know. I was there. It was all you.”
Brown eyes sparkle at me. My chest is heaving, and I feel so alive and happy. Our mouths are so close. My gaze darts to his lips. Funyuns, be damned, I want to kiss him.
“The only thing that would make this better is if we climbed into the back seat and made out.” I waggle my brows at him.
His breaths are coming as fast and labored as mine, but he chuckles and lifts me from where I’m perched awkwardly on the middle console, back into the driver’s seat.
“It’s the Funyuns, isn’t it?”
“No, beautiful girl, it’s not the Funyuns. I want to take you somewhere.”
22
Zeke
Fraternity parties are not my scene, but the look on Gabby’s face when I pull up to frat row is worth it. The front lawn of Sig Nu is filled with people holding cups and I can hear the bass of the music inside as we walk up.
“Attend a frat party is on my list,” she says excitedly, her eyes taking it all in.
“Is it?” I ask like I don’t have the damn list memorized.
She hangs tight as we enter through the ornate wooden doors, columns on either side, and the Greek letters displayed proudly. From the outside, it’s all old money and prestige, but inside it’s just like any other college party. The music is loud, and people are everywhere.
“Z? What are you doing here, man?” Malone catches us just inside. He’s a member of this fraternity so on the rare occasions I have stumbled into a party on frat row, it’s been this one.
“Heard there was a party.”
“You heard right. Maxwell got a job on Wall Street.” He leans toward Gabby. “Daddy pulled some strings, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Nathan around?” I ask.
“Haven’t seen or heard from him today, but I’m sure he’ll show up. I gotta make a liquor run. Keg’s in the kitchen.”
“Shall we?” I ask when he’s gone.
Gabby nods, wearing her excitement all over her pretty face. She pulls me to the kitchen, so much pep in her step she’s practically floating.
“Do you want a beer?” I pull a cup from the counter and hold it up. When she signals yes, I fill it and place it in her eager hand.
“You’re not drinking?”
“Nope. I’m flying out tomorrow morning to interview with Orlando, so tonight I’m on list duty.” I hold out my arm and she loops hers through it. “We’ve crossed off frat party, I’m positive someone has a beer bong around here, and if there are no fights by midnight, I’ll push Malone into the drunkest group of guys I can find.”
She drinks the first beer like it’s her job to get drunk as fast as possible. When Nathan finally shows up, it becomes Mission Sober Impossible. I hang back
and let them have their fun, holding the beer bong when appropriate, and doing my best to make sure Gabby doesn’t drink so much that I’m going to have to hold her hair back.
As it is, I’m not sure I feel comfortable taking her back to her place alone, which is a real problem for me since I can’t seem to stop imagining her body underneath mine, fisting my hands in all that blonde hair, and devouring that sweet mouth. But it’s not just about the physical. If it were, I wouldn’t be so conflicted.
I’ve given up trying to deny there is something between us. Despite my trepidations, I want to spend time with her. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m leaving in a few weeks. And Gabby is, for all her attempts to convince the world otherwise, naïve and inexperienced. She’s not the kind of girl you sleep with one week and then run off and forget the next.
“We should go skinny dipping again,” Gabby says too loudly. The guys around us snicker and one pipes up, “Hell yeah!”
Nathan looks uncomfortable for the first time and I feel for the guy. Drunk Gabby has no filter and he’s probably imagining her naked. Shit, now I’m uncomfortable because I don’t like the idea of him picturing her that way, and also now I’m thinking about her naked again.
“Maybe we should get you home.”
“No way. It’s an unspoken rule of the list that you can’t leave a frat party before it’s over.”
“I’m not sure these things ever really end. Eventually, people just pass out on the lawn.”
Her eyes go wide. “See, we don’t want to miss that!”
Nathan comes to the rescue. He drapes an arm around her shoulder and says, “He’s right. It’s all downhill from here. Let’s go back to the house and chill.”
The Tip-Off: A Smart Jocks Novel Page 11