“Shut up, man,” Wes threatens while glancing in my direction.
“That’s it. Who is she?” Chad asks. “The girl you’re banging. You’d never go this long without someone.”
“Cut it out.” Wes sits up straighter.
Adam’s arm shoots across the table as he points at Wes. “He has someone on the side. Look at his face! Man, this must be intense sex if you’re forgoing other flavors. He’s whipped. We need to know who she is, man.”
“There is no one.” Wes seethes. “And to prove it, I’m gonna go over there and hook up with that blonde.”
He rises from his seat, and my heart drops to my stomach as I watch Wes strut through the crowded bar toward the back, disappearing from our view and out of my control.
“You okay?” Nicole asks me quietly.
“What do you mean?” I ask, seemingly unfazed.
“With that. Wes. You know. That.” Her eyes go wide.
“Totally. No biggie. We made a truce, remember? There’s no reason why I’d be upset. It’s not like anything’s happened between us.”
I try to remain normal while the girls and I turn our backs to the remaining guys and launch into girl talk. I’m smiling and being casual, but every minute that passes, my gut grows weak. I hate that he left the table to pursue that girl. Yes, we’re only hooking up, but I’m right here. How dare he be so damn disrespectful to me.
“I have to pee.” I get up rather abruptly and walk to the back of the bar before one of them can decide to join me.
There’s a line for the restroom that I don’t plan on standing in. I don’t have to go anyway. I just needed to get up and walk around.
There’s a stairwell to my right, so I walk up the stairs to see if there’s another restroom up there. I don’t see one, but there is an outdoor patio area. It’s quieter up here, and there’s a light breeze passing through, which helps my flushed cheeks.
I’m about to leave when a shadowy figure sitting at a table catches my attention. It’s Wes, and he’s sitting there, alone.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Hanging.”
I look over my shoulder and around the room. “Where’s your girl? You know, the one you ran over to hook up with.”
“It’s not like that,” he states like I’m annoying him.
“Did you get her number?”
“Yes.”
My bravado falls. It feels like I was just punched in the chest. My face must show the look of shock because he rises from his seat, lifting his baseball hat and running his hand through his thick, dark hair.
“I had to. The guys will want to see something.”
With a hand on my hip, I ask, “Since when do you care about what others think?”
“You heard Chad. He said not once, but twice how pissed he’d be if anything happened between us.”
“News flash: I can date who I want without my brother sticking his nose in my business. I’ve managed to get laid before without him knowing, and I can do it again.”
“Watch it.”
“Is it a problem that I’ve had sex before? Oh wait. We’re not having sex, so it’s none of your business.”
My need to defend myself only seems to irritate him.
“I know this is a game to you, but Chad means a lot to me, and I’m not gonna lose my best friend over some girl.”
I don’t know what to be more offended by. The fact that he referred to me as some girl or that he thinks this is all still a game. “You’re an asshole, Wesley Knight.”
I’m walking away, but he’s quick on my heels. “Stacey, wait.”
“No.” I spin around and point a finger in his face. “You don’t get to say cruel things and then get me to come back to you. Not anymore. I know this is hard on you. It’s impossible for me too. But it’s fun, and when you come back here and get girls’ numbers right in front of my face, it is so disrespectful, and I can’t stand it.”
His eyes soften like he wants to apologize, but in an instant, his jaw tenses as he swallows. “I’m not your boyfriend.”
I lift my chin and glare at him. “Thank goodness for that.”
My feet move again, and this time, he’s smart enough not to follow me.
Chapter Thirteen
My parents are coming up for the next few days to watch the annual student athlete versus alumni game. I’m excited to not only see my parents, but to watch the guys play, too, since I’m friends with them now.
Well, except one.
I open the door and wrap my arms around both my parents at the same time before they even get the chance to knock. “I’ve missed you guys!”
“There’s my baby girl,” my dad says as he holds me tight, lifting me off the ground slightly before setting me down.
“Come in, come in.” I usher them inside the lobby and up the stairs.
We enter the apartment, and I give them a mini tour, which is really the grand tour because the layout leaves little to navigate. Of course, they’ve been here before to see Chad, but I’m proud to show them how I’ve livened up the place by adding some photos on the wall and adding a new throw pillow and Grandma’s quilt over the back of the couch.
“Oh wow, is that the old Bulldog blanket?” Mom asks as she grabs the blanket that is somehow sitting underneath my grandma’s.
I didn’t notice it until now, and just seeing it makes me stop in my tracks. That’s the blanket I used to curl up in while watching Wes and Chad play on their travel ball team. It’s also the blanket I was wrapped up in the night Wes left for college. I haven’t seen it since that night.
Thankfully, my mom moves on, taking me out of my trance.
“I forgot the extra bedroom was right off the living room. Are you getting enough privacy with your space being so close to the main areas?” she asks. “When you walk from the bathroom, everyone can see you in your towel. Make sure these hornball college friends of your brother’s don’t try to see you naked.”
I could choke on air with how my mother’s comment just summed up my past few weeks. Of course, the first thing I think about is Wes. I’ve been brilliantly giving him the cold shoulder over the last two weeks that I almost tricked myself into thinking those moments with him didn’t happen. How we went from getting along in the laundry room to me being shattered by the sight of him going off to talk to that blonde gives me mental whiplash. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop whatever emotions are starting to run through me after seeing that blanket.
“Well, you guys got here just in time,” I say, changing the subject. “The guys are already at the field, and if we leave now, we’ll get there in time for you to see Chad throw the first pitch.”
When I grab my grandma’s quilt, I see the orange-and-black bulldog blanket more clearly, and I have to take a deep breath to push aside any emotions that come bubbling up with it. If he’s trying to remind me of the past—our past, where he did nothing but torture me—then so be it. Those memories are not going to help his cause.
Well, most of them anyway.
I offer to drive, mostly to show my parents that my old 4Runner still works. Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” blares as I start the engine, and my mom and I are quick to sing the lyrics.
The 4Runner putters a bit on the way, but thankfully, it doesn’t overheat. On the way, I point out some of the places I’ve been and give little anecdotes about Berkeley that I’ve learned since being here.
We make one stop for coffees and then park at the stadium. There are bleachers and grass seating, but Dad wants to be as close to the players as possible. Mom and I bring Grandma’s quilt and curl up together while Dad doesn’t even notice the chill.
I text Nicole and tell her where we are, so she can come sit with us and meet my parents. Of course, I cleared it through Chad first.
“I just love this stadium,” Mom says after we get comfortable. “I’m sad this will be their last year. We can’t come often, but when we do, it’s so exciting.”
/> Dad smiles proudly. “Yes, it’s been a fun few years. I’m gonna miss it.”
“Excuse me. Youngest child will still be here. I hope you’re going to visit me at least once.”
Mom puts her arm around me. “Of course we will. Just make sure it’s when it’s hot. This Bay Area weather is not the California we’re used to,” she jokes, and I lay my head on her shoulder.
“You know, Napa is only forty-five minutes away. Instead of freezing at a game, I’ll take you on a wine tour.”
Dad gives a thumbs-up. “Look at who just moved up to our favorite child.”
I give a mock—yet real—insulted expression. “I didn’t know there was a position.”
He laughs his raspy chuckle but doesn’t tell me I’m wrong or say he was joking. Mom just shrugs and pulls me closer.
I see Nicole on the walkway and wave her over. She has her hair in two long braids and is wearing a Cal jersey that I’m sure has our last name on the back, which is absolutely adorable. Amanda pops up behind her, and I give her a wave as well.
“That’s her?” Mom asks, excited to meet the girl who’s stolen her son’s attention and heart.
“Yep. She’s an education major, and she recycles,” I state proudly as Nicole makes her way through the crowd.
“Wait. Is she the pretty one with the braids or the one who looks like she got her hair caught in electrical socket? Is that pink?”
I laugh out loud. “Nicole is the blonde. The other is her friend, and she’s super nice. She did my hair too.” I move my straightened hair, so my mom can see the lavender underneath. “Cool, right?”
She twists her mouth to the side. “It’s gonna grow out, right?” I nod, so she smiles. “Then, I think it’s cool.”
Nicole and Amanda slide past the people sitting nearby and over to where I’m sitting with my parents, who rise to greet her.
From my seated position, I introduce them. “Nicole, I’d like for you to meet my parents, Laura and Shane.”
“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. Chad talks about you guys all the time,” Nicole says.
Mom reaches out to give Nicole a hug. “I’m so glad we get to meet you!”
Nicole shakes my dad’s hand while I point to Amanda. “This badass of a woman is Nicole’s roommate, Amanda.”
“Sir, I have to say, I’m a huge fan of you on Navy Captain. It’s my favorite show on TV right now,” Amanda says, and Dad beams.
“I like this girl,” he says to Mom and then looks at Amanda. “And I love your hair. Laura and I were just talking about how cool it is.”
I roll my eyes and laugh at my embarrassing parents while Nicole and Amanda sit on the bench to my right just as the announcer introduces the woman who will sing the national anthem.
The players come out of the dugout and stand on the sidelines with their backs to us. I can’t help but stare at the man standing a few feet away with the word KNIGHT written across his shoulders.
He’s sexy as hell in his white pants with blue pinstripes that make him look taller than normal. His arm is flexed as he holds his hat to his heart, and the way his other arm wraps behind his back reminds me of when he put my arm behind me like that as he kissed me senseless.
Then, I remember how cruel he was. How cruel he’s been.
How did I ever tolerate it?
Nicole nudges my arm, and I jump at the notion. “Staring much?” she whispers in my ear.
The song ends, and everyone cheers, so I ignore her comment while we take our seats. The alumni are the away team, so they’re up at bat first. We stand and cheer when Chad strikes the first batter out. Wes rises from his position as catcher, holding a finger up in the air to show the team has one out.
“Isn’t there a mercy rule? Like, going easy on the old dudes who haven’t played in years?” Amanda asks while opening a ziplock bag of popcorn she brought for herself in her purse.
“No way. The past players take this even more serious than the kids. Glory is riding on a game like this,” Dad explains as the second batter cracks a line drive.
Nathan dives for it at second, and the guy is out.
Nicole and I holler way too loud for Chad and Nathan. Wes cranes his neck in our direction. He’s wearing a mask, but I know he’s looking directly at us.
The inning is over after the first three batters, and the teams change positions.
Adam hits a single, and Nathan strikes out, advancing Adam to second before Chad comes up to bat. Mom and Dad go from full-on cheers to super quiet.
I lean into Nicole’s shoulder. “They always get nervous when he bats because in Little League, he was so tall and lanky that he’d get hit by the pitch every game. In fact, I think he still holds our county’s record for the most hit by pitches.”
“I’m so proud.” She giggles as we go back to watching Chad crowd the plate.
He hits the ball to center field, and Adam barely makes it to third before the umpire yells, “Safe!”
My parents are quickly out of their seats, and Nicole holds her arms up in the air with a girlie wail in congratulations.
Wes is up next. Because he’s a lefty, his ass is to us, and damn if it isn’t a fine one as he gets into batting stance. He might be a jerk, but he’s a jerk with a firm body, and it’s really hard to not appreciate it. I cross my arms and sit back, trying to be disinterested in him at bat, but when the count is 3–2 and Wes swings, the ball sails toward the outfield fence, and I’m up on my feet, watching to see how far it goes.
“Home run!” Nicole cheers.
We clap to the music as Adam and then Chad run to home plate and wait for Wes to jog through the bases. As he passes the third baseman, the player takes his hat off and slams it on the ground with a curse. It’s completely unsportsmanlike and rude.
As the man at third picks his hat up and slaps it against his thigh, I look at his familiar face.
“Is that Mr. Knight?” I turn to ask my mom.
She sighs. “Yes. He went to Cal Berkeley too.”
I shake my head, wondering why I didn’t know that. “I saw him at a practice once.”
“Derek Knight should be proud of his son, not throwing a fit. Honestly, I’m not surprised,” she says.
“Laura, be kind,” Dad says, and she just gives a closed-mouth smile with a shrug.
When the teams switch places, Mr. Knight walks past Wes with a turn of his cheek like they are mortal enemies.
Over the next few innings, I watch the game and am enthralled by the father-son dynamic. Mr. Knight pays his son no attention. If that were my dad up there, playing against Chad, he would talk to him, nudge him a little, or shit, probably give him a hug right there at home plate. It would be a proud dad moment, especially if your kid is playing for your alma mater, but that is not the vibe I’m getting here.
When Mr. Knight is up, Wes calls out the pitches, and they get him to a 2–1 count. It’s obvious Mr. Knight is getting frustrated, and yet there’s still no interaction between the two of them.
The next pitch, Mr. Knight hits the ball past shortstop and makes it to first base with ease. He’s celebrating, but when I glance in Wes’s direction, there’s anything but a happy expression covering his face as he yanks his mask down once more.
The next guy up hits a deep ball to center field. Mr. Knight rounds second and then third. Even though the coach is telling him to hold up because the throw is coming down, he continues to head toward home plate.
Wes gets in position to take the throw and make the tag by straddling home plate and facing his father, who’s sprinting his direction.
I grip Nicole’s knee next to me in anticipation as the second baseman relays the throw from deep center field. Wes steadies his feet and bends his knees, so he can make the tag once the ball is there, only his dad isn’t sliding.
Mr. Knight is running full force with his shoulder ready to pound into Wes, like a linebacker would sack a quarterback. Wes stands firm as his father comes crashing into him, slamming his body into
Wes’s chest, knocking him off his feet, and pushing them both down to the ground.
We all gasp at the sight of the two of them lying on the floor. Their bodies are stiff and lifeless for a moment, and all seems silent until Wes holds up the ball in his glove. Everyone cheers.
It might be a moment of glory, but Wes doesn’t seem happy as he whips his mask off his face. “What the hell was that?”
Mr. Knight stands, brushes off his uniform, and charges toward his son. “You were blocking the plate!”
“I had possession of the ball.”
“It’s a dirty way to play. This is supposed to be a friendly alumni game. What kind of shit are they teaching you here?” Mr. Knight spits on the floor. “Great. I’m fucking bleeding.”
“You shouldn’t have charged me,” Wes yells at his father while Chad and Matt try to calm him down.
Mr. Knight laughs. “Don’t be such a pussy. You have all the equipment on.”
My jaw falls, and I can’t believe the way these two talk to each other. The umpire gives Mr. Knight a warning, and the coaches tell everyone to get back to their positions.
The crowd is cheering, but I’m not. My eyes meet with my mom, and her brows curve as she watches Chad talking into Wes’s ear.
I’ve heard Wes’s dad isn’t a great guy, but I didn’t know he was such an asshole. It almost makes me feel bad for Wes. Almost.
Chad walks away, and Wes waits for him to get to the pitcher’s mound. His hand is on his mask, which rests at the top of his head. His handsome face is on display as he turns and looks up at the bleachers. His eyes lock with mine, and a chill runs up my spine as his face scrunches and then disappears behind his mask.
We watch the rest of the game, and our boys win 4–3. It’s a close game, and despite Mr. Knight not being the nicest player, all of the other alumni made it a blast to watch.
Mom, Dad, Nicole, Amanda, and I walk down to the field to congratulate the guys on their win. Nicole runs into Chad’s arms, and he reintroduces her to my parents even though she’s spent the past three hours with them.
Mr. Knight sees my father and starts walking over. “Shane. Good to see you.”
Rebel Roommate: A Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 12