Shit.
Not deliciously.
It was definitely not delicious.
Or big.
Or… gulp… thick.
As much as I hate admitting this, I’m kind of a girth girl. I’ll take thick over long any day of the week.
Damnit… these thoughts aren’t helping matters one damn bit. In fact, they’re only making it worse.
Much worse.
As those memories continue swirling unwantedly through my head, I find myself shifting uncomfortably on the red vinyl covered booth because of the ache that is just starting to throb rather insistently between my-
“Vi?”
My eyes swing up from the paper straw wrapper I’m wadding up into a tight little ball before unwinding, flattening, and doing it all over again. Sitting across from him, I feel nervous and twitchy. And I hate it. Because this isn’t the kind of relationship we have.
He sighs as I reluctantly stare at him from across the Formica table separating us. “We never really finished talking last night.”
My entire body tenses as I think about picking up the threads of our previous conversation.
Nope. We certainly hadn’t gotten around to that. I’d been so comfortable in his warm embrace that I’d fallen asleep almost immediately.
And then I’d woken up refreshed and…
Turned on since there was a lovely boner snuggled up against me and a warm palm cupping my breast.
I seriously can’t believe those words just flitted through my head.
In the eight years we’ve been friends, I have never imagined what sex with Sam might be like. Not ever. We’ve always been just friends. He’s had girlfriends. I’ve had a long string of ill-fated boyfriends that were doomed for failure from the get go. And we’ve both hooked up with other people in the interim.
It has never been weird between us.
No crackling sexual tension.
No thoughts of what if clinging to my subconscious…
The cold light of day has me wondering if it’s nothing more than a disastrous idea to open this Pandora’s box. Everything already feels strange and awkward. Unstable. As if our entire relationship is suddenly careening out of control and there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop it. Openly expressing those ideas will only make it worse.
Because there’ll be no turning back.
But right now… right now we can ignore what’s happening between us. We can simply pretend it’s not there. And maybe, if we pretend hard enough, long enough, it’ll all just go away on its own without us having to actually deal with it.
Regarding me steadily with those gorgeous eyes of his (goddamn it!), he waits for an answer to tumble off my lips. My shoulders lower because already I can see that he’s not going to be letting this go. Maybe he feels it too… the weirdness surrounding us, suffocating the easiness we’ve always taken for granted.
Just as I open my mouth to say something, what- I have absolutely no idea, a big male body slides into the booth next to me. His hip hits mine, nudging me over a little further. Blinking my eyes in confusion, I realize that Liam has suddenly joined us.
His dark hair is styled perfectly into its trademark fauxhawk and he’s wearing a black leather jacket with a soft looking gray Henley beneath it. His dark wash jeans hang low on his taut hips and he has on a pair of black leather boots.
“Hey.” Oblivious to the simmering tension, his eyes bounce from mine to Sam’s before once again refocusing on me. “You two don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
My gaze slices to Sam for just a second before sliding back to Liam. “No, of course not.”
Liam settles back against the vinyl booth before spreading out his long legs beneath the table. Grabbing a menu, he silently peruses it.
Sam says absolutely nothing. I get the distinct feeling that he’s not happy about Liam crashing our breakfast. Even though this now feels even more strained, I’m glad the conversation Sam and I were just about to delve head first into has been aborted for the time being. Yet another bullet that has been dodged this morning.
Sheesh. Since when has my relationship with Sam felt like a minefield that has to be carefully navigated?
Never.
That’s when.
But I can’t deny that I’m absurdly relieved.
What I really need is to take some time and think about everything that has been going on between us before Sam and I actually sit down and hash things out. Clearing out of Sam’s apartment and getting back to my own place will definitely help with that. I think a little distance will be good for both of us. Maybe it’s just what we need to get us back on track again. At this point, that’s all I can really hope for.
The waitress comes over and Liam orders a coffee along with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and pancakes.
Before tacking on a side of fruit.
And two slices of lightly buttered wheat toast.
When we just stare at him with raised brows, he says by way of explanation, “I’m starving. Haven’t eaten a thing all morning.”
“Clearly,” I can’t help but laugh.
Liam, who seems unaware of the strange energy pulsing between Sam and I, starts talking about the game yesterday and what plays need to be tightened up before the next one. As their conversation continues, the tension slowly begins to ebb. And so I simply sit back, sipping my orange juice as I listen to the pair of them discuss the away game next weekend and the first string offensive tackle who sprained his ankle yesterday and his chances of getting back onto the field by Saturday.
Which apparently aren’t good.
By the time our breakfast is served, everything feels almost normal again. Maybe I can just chalk all this up to a strange few weeks and everything between Sam and I will simply slide back to the way it’s always been.
Because that’s what I want… isn’t it?
Chapter Eleven
Sam
“You ready to go?”
I just want to hustle Violet back to the apartment so we can sit down and actually talk about what the hell is going on between us. This conversation has been a long time in coming and it finally seems like she just might be ready to have it.
I also want to get her the hell away from Garrison.
Goddamn mother fu-
“I’m going to run to the bathroom before we leave, okay?” Liam has to slide from the booth so she can shimmy her way out. I’m all too aware of the way his hand trails slowly over her arm, all in the guise of helping her up.
Yeah… nice try, pal.
I know exactly what you’re up to.
The fact that Garrison nods his head at her like she’s talking specifically to him has me gnashing my teeth together in aggravation.
The dude is completely oblivious to the fact that he just hijacked my breakfast.
Then he just stands there watching the rounded swell of her hips sway back and forth as she disappears towards the back of the restaurant. By the time Liam sits his ass back down again, I feel like I could literally leap across the table and wring his damn neck.
His eyes arrow innocently back to mine. There’s just a hint of a smirk sliding its way across his lips.
I’m going to be completely candid about this- I like Liam. I really do. He’s a phenomenal QB and in the two plus years I’ve known him, he’s always been a decent guy. He’s not some freaking prima donna out on the field like some QB’s I’ve worked with. Nor is he a head case. I’ve unfortunately run into that as well. Hell, it looks like he might even be moving into Dylan’s old room because of his current housing situation.
And I’m totally cool with that.
But right now… yeah, right now I’d like to knock the goddamn piss out of him for the way he’s eyeing up Violet. What the fuck is that about anyway? Up until last night, he’s never shown one damn bit of interest in her.
Unperturbed by the hard edged glint shining in my eyes, he nods his head towards the direction Violet just took off in. “She’s a great girl.”
His offhanded comment leaves my hands tightening into clenched fists beneath the table. When I can’t hold it in a moment longer, I finally snap. “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”
One dark brow lazily slants its way upward as the smirk on his face becomes a little more self-satisfied. “What are you talking about?”
Grrr.
I’m starting to think this whole thing is deliberate, just to piss me off. Which would be pretty fucking stupid on his part considering it’s my job out on the field to protect his damn ass, to keep him from taking a hit.
Eyes narrowing, my temper ignites.
During a game, I have absolutely no problem taking someone down. But rarely have I been moved to the point of throwing a punch. That’s just not my style. I’m not a hot head. I’m always cool, calm, and in control of my feelings. Plus, it’s been all but pounded into me that I need to continually rise above the fray. I can’t do anything that will reflect poorly on my father or his political career. Which is probably why I enjoy football as much as I do. It’s an outlet. I can knock people around and it’s perfectly acceptable.
Hell, it’s encouraged.
That being said, it doesn’t mean I can’t be riled up when the occasion calls for it. Because I can. Back in high school, I punched some asswipe in the nose who was giving Violet a hard time. Needless to say, no one bothered her again after that. And yeah, I caught a shitload of trouble from my dad… his image consultant… and his PR dude…
But it was totally worth it. And furthermore, I would do it again if I had to. But in all these years, I sure as hell haven’t experienced the urge to lay out one of my own freaking teammates.
Until now.
“I’m talking about Violet.” My teeth clench as I force out the words. “What the hell are you doing?”
Even though I feel like I’m radiating tension, all but vibrating with it, he shrugs his broad shoulders like we’re just sitting around shooting the shit. Instead of answering my question, he says, “Did she tell you that I asked her out last night?”
I poker up at that. My eyebrows all but hit the ceiling in response. “You did what?”
He did what?
His wide grin continues to grow. It’s getting harder and harder to hold myself back and not take a swing at him. “I asked if I could take her out sometime.”
My eyes are so narrowed, I can barely see. Of course, I can barely see through all the damn smoke pouring out of my ears. Yep, I am definitely going to kick the living shit out of him. Liam has never showed any interest in Violet and now he’s suddenly taking her out?
Well, it’ll be over my dead fucking body!
Garrison is a player.
Maybe not like Roan used to be.
But still…
He’s enough of one that I wouldn’t want Violet anywhere near him. Even if I didn’t have feelings for her, I still wouldn’t want them together. I’ll be damned if I allow him to get his hands on her. He’ll just mess her up. Liam is nowhere near good enough for her.
When I’m finally able to wrap my lips around the words, I grit them out succinctly, “And what did she say?” Just barely am I holding it together.
His smirk slides its way into a big fat lazy grin that I’m oh-so-tempted to punch off his face. “She’s totally into it, man. Just have to pick a time and place.”
Feeling deflated, I mutter under my breath, “No shit.”
Folding his hands in front of him, he leans towards me. His gaze holds mine steadily. There’s no smirk in sight. “Any reason why that shouldn’t happen, Harper?”
Why that dirty little son of a -
“Okay, I’m ready to go.”
Before I can say anything- hell, before I can even blink my damn eyes, Liam is sliding out of the booth, invading way too much of Violet’s personal space.
“What are you up to for the rest of the day?”
She looks startled by the question that’s suddenly being hurtled her way. “Oh… ah, just a little studying later this afternoon.”
He cocks his head towards the entrance of the diner as I sit there like a total dumbass watching him make a play for my girl right before my fucking eyes.
And what do I do?
Nothing.
Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
“I’ve got my bike with me, how about I take you for a ride? I’ll have you back in plenty of time to get your work done.”
Looking indecisive, Violet gnaws that plump little bottom lip until it’s practically pulp before her eyes slowly drift my way. Silently she holds them for a heartbeat, maybe two. But I feel completely immobilized to do anything that will actually stop this impromptu date from occurring.
And even if I weren’t, what am I supposed to do?
Tell her that she can’t go?
If she wants to spend time with Liam fucking Garrison, she can do it. Right? And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop her. It’s not like she’s ever hooked up with any of my teammates before. By unspoken agreement, all the guys pretty much steer clear of Violet.
It’s quietly that she asks, “Do you mind if I leave with Liam?”
Fuck.
Jerking my shoulders into a tight shrug, I mutter under my breath, “Nope. Not at all.”
I couldn’t be more of a freaking pussy if I tried.
Yeah, I’m totally pissed at Garrison. But I’m angry at myself for not doing something to put a stop to this ridiculousness.
After another moment of scrutiny, she turns back to Liam who is grinning like a damn Cheshire cat. I’m seriously going to pound the crap out of him next time we’re on the field. Or better yet, I’ll let him get the piss knocked out of him by the other team. I don’t give a damn if he’s our first string QB. The guy is going down.
“Great. I’ve got an extra helmet on the back of my bike, let’s go.”
When his eyes finally slide my way, there’s a taunting smugness that fills them. “Catch you later, man.”
Not giving her a chance to change her mind, he tows her right out of the restaurant before I can say or do anything else. Violet’s soft brown eyes catch mine one last time before she disappears through the doors and out onto the sun filled street.
Scrubbing a hand through my hair in irritation, I sit there for a moment or two before finally throwing a few bills onto the table.
Because guess who just got stuck paying the check?
I’ll give you a clue- it’s the very same chump whose damn ass is sitting alone at the table.
I swear to god, when I get my hands on that little shit, he’s going to rue the day he ever looked sideways at Violet.
That’s a fucking promise.
Chapter Twelve
He tucks my long hair behind my ears before carefully pulling the helmet over my head. His gunmetal gray eyes hold mine.
“Feel alright?”
I give a quick nod and in return, he gifts me with a lazy smile.
Yup.
There is absolutely no denying it, Liam Garrison is one hell of a sexy guy. The man oozes sex appeal through his pores. It’s ridiculously intoxicating. That being said, I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here with him. And part of me feels like crap for just walking out on Sam. Maybe I should have said no to Liam’s offer and just headed back to the apartment with Sam.
But then we would have ended up discussing last night… and the weeks leading up to it.
Which is just another bullet dodged, as far as I’m concerned. It’s not a conversation I want to engage in until I have a better handle on my feelings. So, for the time being, I’ll avoid Sam by spending a little time with Liam. Then, later, I can grab my stuff from his apartment and head back to the dorms.
Straddling the bike… and yeah… that’s totally hot as well, he tells me to climb on behind him. Once I do, he grabs my arms, wrapping them firmly around his middle. Which is rock solid, just in case you were wondering.
“Hold on tight.”
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I w
hisper, “Okay.”
Without any other warning, the motorcycle roars to life and we’re suddenly taking off. Zipping easily through the tree lined streets near campus. After a few minutes, I feel a smile stretch its way across my face as the wind whips past us. All of the issues that have cropped up with Sam slowly fall to the wayside.
I simply enjoy the feel of the wind as I press myself against Liam. Even though it’s mid-November, and the sun is bright and shining, it’s still cold. But there’s something amazingly freeing about being on the back of a motorcycle.
Especially when you’re clinging to a hot guy for dear life.
For the next thirty minutes we wind our way lazily through the busy city streets until he pulls up in front of a battered cream colored brick building on the east end of town. Parking the bike, Liam cuts the engine before climbing off.
As I try standing, I realize that my legs are all rubbery and loose from the vibrations. Almost instantly his arm slides around me as I stare at the rundown single story pool hall in front of me.
A simmering grin tugs at the corners of Liam’s lips as if he’s able to read my mind before nodding towards the place I’m still busy sizing up. “You play?”
I snort. “Once or twice.”
Or just once.
“Good, then I can instruct you as to the proper way to sink a ball.”
Now why that sounds so dirty, I have no idea… but it does.
And the devilish glint lighting up his gray eyes tells me that it came out sounding precisely the way he intended it to.
Five minutes later, we’ve peeled off our jackets and Liam is racking the balls in the middle of the table. Glancing around, it’s hard not to notice that the inside is just as derelict and forlorn looking as the outside. There are about ten pool tables scattered around the small space. Even with the bright sunlight pouring in through the grimy windows, there are flashing neon beer signs hanging from the walls.
A few men are parked at the bar, beer in front of them as they watch whatever sports program is on the TV. Considering that it’s barely noon on a Sunday, I’m wondering if they’re die-hards from the night before or already starting out their morning with a little hair of the dog that bit them last night.
Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2) Page 10