It didn’t help that he’d graduated and had a full-time job now, while they were still living the carefree student life. At least that’s how it seemed to him. Yeah, Megan, the art major, was working on getting more of her paintings in local shows, and Chris had his work cut out for him at the Regional Combines, trying to get into the NFL, but no one else had to work the same schedule every single day like he did. He wouldn’t say it to them, but he felt like the serious one of the three of them, working a boring job while they pursued their pie-in-the-sky dreams.
It irritated him, how they got to do whatever they wanted. And made him a little jealous. He tried to suppress that, but failed miserably most of the time. He’d love to be able to pursue his dreams. But his passion, his first love—surfing—didn’t lend itself to financial stability or any kind of career prospects. Not for him. He knew he wasn’t good enough to go pro. He’d accepted that a long time ago. Even if he did spend time daydreaming of business ideas that would get him back in the water. No, the best he could hope for was a good job with a good company where he could take surfing vacations once or twice a year.
Matt forced his thoughts back to their dinner and whatever Megan wanted. He waited until she’d taken a few bites before he asked again, “So, what favor are you needing?” He sat back, taking a drink of his water to give her time to answer. Chris turned his head in her direction as well, but didn’t stop eating.
She sat up straighter, set her fork down, and finished chewing before she spoke. “Well, you know how I’m trying to set up a show for later this year, right?”
He and Chris both nodded, encouraging her to continue.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself. “I want to do a study in skin tone contrasts. So, I need a bunch of models with varying skin colors. And I want to pose people in groups and pairs to show the variations in comparison to one another.”
Matt glanced at Chris, who’d stopped mid-chew to study his girlfriend. Chris swallowed and took a drink of water. “So you want us to pose naked for you or something?”
“Not us together, though, right?” Matt couldn’t help interjecting. No way did he want to pose naked with another dude, even if the dude was one of his closest friends. Not gonna happen.
Megan laughed. “No and no. I mean, yes, I’d love to have you guys model for me if you will, but you won’t have to be completely naked, just shirtless, or maybe in a speedo.” Matt’s eyes widened, but Megan kept going before he could say anything. “But not you two together. While your skin is different colors, you don’t contrast enough for what I’m wanting.”
Chris relaxed, and Matt’s initial negative reaction softened, too. “So what are you wanting from us?”
She shrugged, pushing the food around on her plate. “I was hoping you might be willing to get some of the guys from the football team to help me out.”
Matt sat stunned for a second. Chris’s loud bark of laughter broke the silence. “Babe. You want Matt and me to ask the guys if they’ll come pose together in speedos so you can paint them? I know you haven’t spent a lot of time around the team, but you have to know that that’s not likely to go over real well.”
Megan kept her eyes on her plate, and her hair mostly hid her face from view, but Matt thought he could make out her cheeks pinking just a little. Shit. Now he felt bad. “Dude. Don’t be a dick to your girlfriend.” Chris glanced at him but kept chuckling.
Lifting her head, she speared Chris with her gaze. “You don’t have to ask for me. Just give me the numbers of the guys you think might go for it. But they can’t be white guys if you two are going to help.”
Chris just shook his head as he shoveled more food in his mouth. Matt sighed. “Yeah, sure. I can think of a few guys that might agree to help.” He pointed his fork at her. “You’ll have to promise them they’ll only pose alone or with a chick, though. None of them are going to agree to be all up close and personal with another guy.”
Megan smirked at him. “Don’t you guys all shower together and slap each other’s asses when you’re playing football? What’s the big deal? I’m not asking anyone to get naked and rub up against each other. It’ll be tasteful. But I need live models to get what I need. If I can get a few pieces in the series done, my painting professor is going to show them to her friend who owns a gallery downtown. If he likes it, I could get my own show, not just be part of a group showing. This could be a big deal for me.”
Matt found himself agreeing. “Yeah, I’ll help. Whatever you need, I’m in. I already let you sketch me last semester, so it can’t be that bad, right?”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Matt.” She shot him a sardonic look.
Before he could respond, Chris interjected. “Sorry, babe. I’m not trying to be an asshole. Of course I’ll help. You know you just have to ask, and I’ll help with whatever. I’ll even ask a few guys for you.”
Megan gave Chris a genuine smile, her face lit up. Matt buried his attention in his food, not wanting to witness more PDA between the happy couple. Speaking of assholes, he needed to get his head out of his. He should be happy for them, happy that Chris wasn’t going to get syphilis or something, and had quit screwing anything with perky boobs that smiled in his direction. He’d never understood how Chris and Lance could treat women so casually like that. Yeah, okay, he’d taken advantage of the jersey chasers, too. They threw themselves at him. He’d be stupid to turn that down, and he’d never have heard the end of it from the guys.
But in reality he preferred to be in a relationship. Not that any of those had worked out well for him. The last good relationship he’d had was … Hannah. Everything since then had been a disaster. And with how he’d left things with her, he didn’t think that qualified as less than a disaster either. At least she didn’t seem to hate his guts like the other chicks he’d dated. Hell, he’d even had to convince Megan to tutor him last semester so he didn’t have to meet with his assigned tutor, who was also his ex. After the way he’d ended things with her, he didn’t think she’d help him pass anything. Thank God he’d found an alternative and Coach had agreed to it.
Hannah didn’t look like she wanted to rip his guts out, though, so that was promising. Of course she also didn’t look like she remembered him, which rankled, but that seemed better than outright hatred. He could work with indifference, see if he could get it to change to affection.
Wait. No.
He couldn’t.
He was one of her managers. The last thing he should care about was whether she remembered him or if she wanted to pick up where they’d left off. Even if the thought of doing just that wouldn’t get out of his head.
CHAPTER FOUR
The thumping bass felt like a punch to her gut over and over and over again. Hannah tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling and allow her body to move with the beat instead of fighting it. She and Elena had gone to a crowded club downtown with overpriced drinks. They danced together, cocktails held high to avoid the jostling bodies surrounding them.
Hannah drained the last of her Lemon Drop and fanned her hand in front of her face. Leaning close, she shouted in Elena’s ear, “I’m going to get some water and cool down!”
With a nod and a thumbs-up, Elena waved her off. Hannah wove her way through the dancing bodies, twisting and sliding to avoid groping hands, the flashing lights making it that much more difficult. On the other side of the crowd, she deposited her empty glass on a table near the bar before heading for the women’s restroom. Even in there she felt the throb of the music, somewhat muffled, an echo of the pounding beat on the dance floor.
Hannah took the time to wipe the smudges from under her eyes where her makeup had run from sweating while she danced before heading back out, shaking her head at the giggling drunk girls that stumbled in as she opened the door. The club had become more crowded, and she had a hard time getting to the bar so she could order a glass of water. When she managed to shove her way to the front, she couldn’t get the bartender’s attention. The bo
ttle-blonde behind the bar was too busy flirting with some frat boys for tips, bending low so they could get a good view of the cleavage threatening to spill out of her low-cut and too-tight shirt, and couldn’t be bothered with other women further down.
After serving the frat boys and flirting a few more minutes, the bartender’s eyes turned her direction, and Hannah raised her hand to indicate that she wanted to order. The way the woman’s eyes lit up gave Hannah a split second of hope, even if that reaction was confusing until she realized the bartender had her gaze focused over Hannah’s shoulder. Hannah glanced behind her and came face-to-face with a chest covered in a snug polo shirt. Craning her neck up, up, she made eye contact with the tall, dark-haired guy looming over her. He grinned down at her, straight white teeth flashing in the dim light. She offered him a closed-mouth smile in return.
The bartender finished with the frat boys and sauntered over, a predatory grin on her face directed at the guy behind Hannah. She leaned onto the bar, flipping back her hair, her arms pushing her breasts up further, the lace from her bra peeking out of the low scoop neck of her tight, black top. “What can I get you, sweetie?”
Hannah bit her upper lip to keep herself from laughing at the woman’s over-the-top flirting. The guy leaned into her space even more, placing a hand around Hannah’s waist. When she stiffened at his touch, he squeezed his fingers like maybe he was trying to reassure her, but didn’t remove his hand. She twisted to look up at him, but he started ordering before she could say anything. “I’ll have a Widmer Hefeweizen and whatever my girl here needs.” He turned to Hannah with another wide smile, one eyebrow raised in question.
Hannah was too stunned for a second to even respond.
“What did you want, sweetness?” He tilted his head toward the waiting bartender, who’d lost her flirty smile and straightened up so her boobs weren’t about to pop out of her top anymore. Not quite, anyway.
Finally finding her voice, Hannah croaked, “Just water.”
The bartender nodded, filled a glass with ice and water, and slid it to Hannah before filling a frosted glass from a tap and shoving an orange slice on the rim. She set the glass on the bar, took the guy’s money, and moved on to flirt with the next group of guys who’d sidled up to the bar.
Hannah gulped her water and moved away from the hand on her waist. He let it drop without protest and followed her away from the bar.
He leaned down so he could speak into her ear. “Sorry about that. I saw the way she was ignoring you and figured I’d help you out. There wasn’t time to explain before she came over. I wasn’t trying to creep on you or anything.” He smiled again, and Hannah smiled back, a full smile this time.
“I guess I should say thank you then.”
“You’re welcome. I’m Evan, by the way.”
“Hannah.” She moved toward an open table, wanting to sit down. Over an hour of dancing in the strappy heels Elena insisted she wear meant that her feet were killing her. She hadn’t noticed it much on the dance floor, but now she was just standing, her feet throbbed in time with the music. Evan followed, pulling the other chair around the table next to hers.
Plucking the orange slice off the rim of his glass, he squeezed it into his beer before taking a drink. Then he leaned in close to her, pitching his voice loud enough to carry over the music. “Are you here alone?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m here with a friend.” She waved a hand toward the crowd. “She’s dancing. I needed a break and some water.”
He nodded, and Hannah looked him over. The colorful flashing lights of the club made it hard to see him well, but she liked what she could make out. Tall, broad, his shirt clinging to muscular shoulders, hinting at more muscles beneath without being overly tight all over. She couldn’t tell what color his short hair or his eyes were, but she liked his smile. Since she’d come with Elena to try to meet guys, she figured she should make more of an effort here.
She smiled at him, leaning closer now. “What about you? Are you here with anyone?”
He smiled back, nodding. “Yeah. My friend Duncan turned twenty-one this week, so we’re all here partying with him.” He pointed to a group of guys standing around a high-top table laughing and drinking, a few of them had girls in skimpy clubwear hanging off of them.
One of the guys saw Evan pointing and stumbled in their direction. “Coop! There you are!”
Hannah wrinkled her brows, looking at the guy next to her. “I thought you said your name is Evan.”
He shrugged, taking a drink of his beer. “It is. My last name’s Coopman. The guys on the team call me Coop for short.”
“The team?”
“Football.”
With a nod, Hannah gulped down the rest of her water. Matt had been on the football team. Evan probably knew Matt. Which mean Hannah could find out about Matt. Had he ever mentioned her? Probably not. What was she thinking? Spinning her glass between her hands, she sunk her teeth into her upper lip to keep herself from asking any of the questions running through her mind.
She was saved from further temptation by Evan’s friend barging over to their table and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Dude! I thought you were just getting a refill. What are you doing sitting here? Come back to the party!”
Evan looked at Hannah. “This is Duncan.” He turned to Duncan and inclined his head toward her. “Duncan, meet Hannah. We were just hanging out for a second. She needed to sit, and I was waiting for her to feel up to dancing again before inviting her to join us.”
“If you’re worried about sitting, you both need more to drink! Come on! Bottoms up!” Duncan seemed to notice that Hannah’s glass was empty. “What’re you drinking? Never mind. Come over to our table, we’ll get you sorted. We’ve got plenty.” He gestured at Evan. “This one’s too snobby for our pitchers of beer, but I’m sure you won’t mind.”
Hannah opened her mouth to respond, but Duncan was off, lurching back to the table he’d come from, raising his glass high in the air and shouting. “Whoo! Happy birthday to me!”
Evan grinned at her. “What do you say? Wanna come hang out for a while? I won’t insist you get drunk, but you might have more fun over there if you do.”
Even though Hannah pretended to think it over for a minute, she’d already made up her mind. She knew Matt had already graduated, so he couldn’t be on the team. There was no way he’d be here. Even if these guys knew him, she doubted it would matter. Here was this cute guy who seemed interested in her. He’d already helped her out when she needed a drink. And even if having his arm around her had startled her at first, she’d actually enjoyed the way it felt. Plus, Elena would kill her if she turned him down. A couple more drinks, some dancing, what was the harm?
She smiled widely. “Sure.”
Evan smiled back at her, drained the last of his beer, and stood. His hand went to the small of her back as he ushered her over to his group of friends, and Hannah sunk into the feeling of a guy paying attention to her, claiming her, even if only for the night.
When they arrived at the tall tables where Evan’s friends were gathered, the group split apart, making room for them. Hannah stepped into the gap, Evan moving close beside her, angling his body so he could face the table as well as her. Looking around, she realized she recognized a few people from her classes, and nodded in greeting. Nothing prepared her, though, for the recognition that struck her like a bolt of lightning when she looked to the end of the group and saw Matt standing there glowering at her.
So much for her plan to stay out of his way.
* * *
Jealousy prickled over Matt’s skin as he stared at Hannah sidling up to the table, some douchey junior close beside her. Okay, fine, Coop wasn’t a douche. He was a nice guy. But he kept brushing his hand down Hannah’s back, and that made Matt want to rip his arms off and beat him with the bloody stumps.
Matt tried to keep his expression even, or at least stop staring at Coop touching Hannah, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She
turned her head and met his gaze. Fuck.
He watched recognition, surprise, and confusion run across her face. Her eyes held his, like they were locked in some strange staring contest and the loser would forfeit something unknown but serious for looking away first.
Coop leaned down and spoke into her ear, and Matt’s fingers tightened around the glass in his hand. At least they weren’t at someone’s house drinking beer out of cans, or he’d be crushing it right now. The distraction of Coop speaking to her made Hannah look away first. But even though that should mean he won, he hadn’t. This staring contest had different rules, and her looking away first meant he lost because now her eyes weren’t on him.
The girl next to him leaned over and rubbed her breasts on his arm, clutching his bicep and tracing his tattoo where it peeked out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. She whispered something in his ear, but he wasn’t paying attention.
He forced his eyes away from Hannah and turned to the girl next to him. Tracie? Trixie? No, Trish. Her name was Trish. She was one of the chicks who followed around the football team, hooking up with random players. For some reason she’d set her sights on him, seeming to want some kind of relationship beyond the one-off hookup they’d had. She’d started rubbing up against him whenever the opportunity presented itself late last semester. He hadn’t actively encouraged her, but hadn’t shut her down either. That seemed to be all the encouragement she needed.
And even thought he’d grown tired of playing around and wanted something lasting, Trish didn’t fit the bill. She was nice enough, he supposed, but she wasn’t … Hannah. And now that he’d seen Hannah again, no one else could possibly measure up.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” He was trying hard not to be an asshole but really didn’t have much patience for anyone right now. Not while some other dude had his hands all over Hannah.
Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3 Page 49