She tore her eyes away, not wanting to see any more of that.
* * *
Chris pulled away from the redhead—Brianna?—who'd just given him a taste of what she'd been drinking—something sweet and fruity. She ran a hand up his chest. “Should we find an empty bedroom?”
He looked toward the living room just in time to see Megan jerk her head away. Damn. Any thought he had of getting laid tonight vanished. He shook his head, taking the girl's hands off his chest. “Thanks for the offer, but not tonight.”
Following the direction of his gaze, she snorted. “Have fun with that.”
Chris frowned at her, hearing the bite in her tone. He didn't like it when girls got catty, especially over him. It's not like he was trying to find a girlfriend by sleeping with some random chick at a party. He never even remembered their names once he was done, sometimes before he even got started. What was the point of acting jealous and possessive of a one-night stand?
“On second thought, not ever.” He dropped her hands and went into the kitchen. He needed another drink. These pool parties were usually fun—it was a great way for the team to blow off steam together before the season started. They were done with two-a-day practices since classes started on Monday and their first game was next weekend. The next few months were busy, with only one Saturday off between now and Thanksgiving. They held the annual pool party the weekend before classes started. It was supposed to cement the bond the team formed during the preseason practices and get them game-ready. But Chris wasn't feeling it this year.
Matt found him at the bar, downing a few more shots. He wore a frown. “I thought you were the DD tonight, man.”
Chris knocked back another shot of tequila and shrugged. “Plans change.”
Matt crossed his arms, the picture of disapproval. “Don't you think you ought to tell the other potential drivers if you need to change plans?”
“Fuck off, Schwartz. You've been in my face enough tonight. You can sober up enough to drive in an hour or two if you stop drinking now.” He gestured toward the living room. “Or tell Megan to stop drinking so she can drive.” He poured himself another shot and drank it in one swallow, barely feeling the burn of the liquor anymore. Normally when he'd had this many shots, he had a nice buzz going and a warm feeling of contentment centered in his chest. Now he was just pissed. In more ways than one. He was angry and drunk and the alcohol wasn't doing anything to make him feel better.
He raised his eyes to Matt's face. With a sound of disgust, Matt headed for the living room. Chris figured he was going to talk to Megan, but he didn't care to watch. The two of them seemed closer than he liked. He didn't see her giving Matt the same searching or wary looks she shot at him. And Matt had been touching her off and on all night long. Way more than he had. He'd only touched her under the guise of playing a game, and then for the one time they’d danced together before Matt interrupted them.
The more he thought about it, the more pissed off he became. At Matt. At Megan. At the whole fucking situation. And he wasn't even going to get laid, because he kept seeing the expression on Megan's face when he'd looked up from kissing that other chick—a mixture of hurt and disgust.
Fuck that. What right did she have to be hurt or disgusted? He was a man. He had needs. This was a party. She hadn't been disgusted when she'd been dancing with his teammates and they'd had their hands all over her ass. What right did she have to be disgusted with him? They'd just been kissing. It wasn't like he was fucking her against the wall in front of everyone. Which sometimes happened at these parties. Not that he would do that—he wasn't an exhibitionist. But other guys didn't seem to care if anyone saw them.
He'd been planning on getting laid tonight, but he didn't want the redhead anymore. She seemed like she could turn into a clingy bitch, and that was the last thing he needed. Someone else, though. There was always a whole crowd of jersey chasers at these things. Surely he could find one to take care of him for tonight.
CHAPTER FOUR
A shaft of light from the split in the curtains fell across Megan's face. She groaned and rolled over, her head pounding. The familiar roiling in her stomach had her lurching out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom, where she heaved up whatever was left from last night.
A wan smile crossed her face as she sank to the floor of the unfamiliar bathroom. Breaking in the new digs. She was christening her new bathroom with her first hangover. It had taken much longer to do this in the apartment she'd shared with Abby. She'd always felt a little bad about leaving Abby at home by herself when they'd lived together. Partly because she'd felt like she was abandoning Abby, despite Abby's protestations that she liked staying home and reading or watching a movie or whatever it was she did while Megan was out partying. Partly because she'd always thought Abby needed to break out of her shell.
And she'd been right. Except it had been a guy who’d done what she'd begun to think was impossible. Megan felt justified in taking some credit. She was the one who’d 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 Megan 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 who 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 enough 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.” Matt’s grin fell away, annoyance taking its place. “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. Heading into the bathroom, she got out her toothbrush. The water was helping her feel more alive already, and soon the ibuprofen would kick in, dulling the throbbing in 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?”
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.”
Flipping him off, Megan muttered, “Don't get used to it. It doesn't happen often.”
He 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.”
Matt headed to the door. “Cool. Come on out whenever. Chris is still in bed, so he won't bother you.”
“Thanks.” She wasn’t worried about Chris bothering her, but, good to know, I guess?
With a final nod, he closed 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 get with that program, instead of being alternately pissy and flirty, living here wouldn't be too bad.
CHAPTER FIVE
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 this semester so he could play his last season.
All he’d ever cared about at school was football. If he couldn’t play anymore, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d never been good at planning for the future. And some part of him had hoped that maybe some NFL scouts would come to this tiny little university and pick him up for the draft.
But now, on the verge of his last season, that dream had died.
His degree was interesting enough, but only in how it helped him become stronger, faster, better at football. Otherwise, he didn’t really see the point. He didn’t know what to do with an Exercise Science degree. Or what to do with himself, either.
His future yawned ahead of him, a dark, amorphous abyss. And the fact that everyone around him had goals and plans only made him feel stupider and even less motivated to try.
When Megan had mentioned that she worked as a tutor, he’d wondered if she could help him graduate. He was this close to the end, he might as well, right? But that would require trying. And if he didn’t care about his degree, if it wouldn’t get him what he wanted, why bother?
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 across a patch of grass. 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. Chris was too far away to hear, but it obviously wasn't nice, because Megan stiffened and turned to face the newcomer. Even in profile, Chris could tell she was pissed.
Chris wanted to step in, but he didn't know if his help would be welcome. Megan had avoided him 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 bothering Megan looked up, his eyes widening in apprehension 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 Chris, 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,” she said in a flat voice, which was really unlike her. Megan was a lot of things, but she was always animated. She broadcast whatever she was feeling, and right now she was feeling pissed. Maybe a little hurt.
He snorted. “Really? 'Cause you don't sound fine. Who was that?” He looked in the direction that the asshole had gone.
“Isaac.” The way she spat out his name, as if it tasted like rancid steak, made it clear how she felt about him.
“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 to him 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, 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 genuine sounding. “Thanks. That's sweet, but completely unnecessary.”
She turned, about to head off in the opposite direction, but Chris stopped her with a hand on her arm. Stepping into her space, he looked her in the eye, wanting to impress on her that he meant it. “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.”
Narrowing her eyes, she studied him. “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.” His free hand clenched at his side, and he was already planning out the best way to enlist Matt’s help. He probably could leave Lance out of it. For now.
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 gaze and stepping back so she was out of reach. “Okay. Fine. He's harmless, though. All talk.”
“All talk?” There was another giant red flag. “What kind of talk? What did he actually say to you?” Nothing she said made him feel any better about this guy bothering her.
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, only slightly mollified by her assurance. Her promise sounded more placating than sincere. But he’d take it for now and be sure to let Matt know some douche was bothering her. Maybe she’d tell Matt, even if she wouldn’t tell him. God, he hoped so.
When she followed the sidewalk around a building, he finally turned and walked to his own class, his palm tingling where he'd touched her. Matt wa
s right. He needed to keep his hands off her if he couldn’t fuck her.
* * *
Chris stripped off his pads, ready for a shower after another grueling practice in the late August heat. He looked forward to September and the cooler weather. September and October in Spokane were perfect for football. Not too hot, not too cold. The night games in October got pretty chilly, but as long as you were on the field, 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 worse, raining and thirty-three degrees. 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?”
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.”
Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3 Page 27