The Trouble With Quarterbacks

by R.S. Grey

  “Whatever you want, birthday bit—” Yasmine starts before I cut her off.

  “Yaz!”

  “What?” she hisses. “She’s being a cow.”

  “I can hear you!” Kat shouts.

  “Well it’s her birthday,” I say, defending Kat. “She’s allowed to be a cow once a year.”

  I eat my words when I pass her the toast a minute later and she takes a bite before pointedly spitting it back out onto the plate.

  Dead serious, she holds it up and says, “Too cold. Make it again.”

  Yasmine sort of leaps at her like she’s ready to have a go. I have to play peacemaker.

  “Kat, eat the toast or I’ll fling it out the window” is the diplomatic response I settle on.

  “Right, right. Sheesh,” she says, taking another bite before continuing to talk with her mouth full. “You’d just think on her birthday, a girl could get a decent breakfast from her best mates.”

  She only gets worse as the day goes on. At the spa, she demands to go first for the facial and massage, and then she insists we do our nails too even though we’ve already racked up quite a bill. When Yasmine and I suggest a little deli round the corner for lunch, Kat declares we must go to a salad bar clear across town. It takes us ages to get there by subway, and when we arrive, the guy behind the counter tries to get my number. When I politely tell him no, he gets real snippy and all but barks the total at me. I think about leaving him a bad tip, but instead, I huff my way over to the salad bar to fill my plate with more food than I would normally get. That’ll show him.

  After lunch, we head back to the flat to rest before our big night out. I know I saw Logan on Thursday, but it feels like it’s been ages since then and I don’t know what I’ll do if he ends up not showing up at the club tonight.

  I text him in the late afternoon as we’re all lazing about, watching Legally Blonde. It was funny the first time, but Kat makes us watch it so often I can recite every line word for word. What, like it’s hard?

  CANDACE: Still planning on coming tonight?

  LOGAN: I have a late dinner I forgot about, but I can still come out after with the guys. Just let me know where you end up.

  “Candace! This is the best part!” Kat says, taking my mobile out of my hand and chucking it clear across the sofa.

  I do a deep breathing exercise to keep from decapitating her. “Kat. I’m truly going to kill you. Remind me to book a trip abroad next year for your birthday. Without you.”

  “Shhh! I’m missing it!”

  Yasmine shoots me a glare that says, I won’t say a word if you go ahead and kill her.

  I contemplate it for a good long while, right up until Elle Woods’ speech at her graduation, then it’s time to get tarted up. It’s still hours until the clubs will be packed, but we all love taking our time putting on our makeup, tossing every item of clothing we own out onto our beds then mixing and matching them to get a perfect combo.

  We all end up going with a variant of the same look: short skirt, cute top, ridiculous heels. Kat and Yasmine talked me into this coordinating black mini skirt and cropped top. At least the top has got long sleeves, but that’s where the modesty ends. It’s clingy and soft, the jersey material hugging my figure and making me look loads sexier than I usually am on an average day. Yasmine plays up my eyes with a bit of dark shadow, and then Kat helps me with my hair so it has some wave to it.

  I think we look absolutely fabulous when all’s said and done.

  When we’re out on the curb, waiting for our Uber, a passing cyclist gives us a whistle and I squeal. “See?! We look lovely! Even that biker says so.”

  “He was about 75. Did you get a good look at him? He had no teeth.”

  “So what? Clearly he’s got great taste!”

  Our car pulls up and we all slide into the back seat, fiddling with our skirts. It’s no real use; they barely cover our knickers. If I were our mothers, I’d be very angry at us for going out like this, but I guess that’s the bonus of living across the pond—no one to tell us to cover up!

  I text Logan which club we’re headed to, but he doesn’t text me back. I know it’s because he’s at his dinner, but it almost makes me a little nervous. I really want him to show. I want him to see me like this and eat his heart out. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Especially after all the times he’s seen me at The Day School, covered in tissue dressed up like a mummy or with a paintbrush stuck in my hair. It’s only fair that he should see me like this too, right?

  The club is closer to where Logan lives, up in a trendy part of town with a long queue circling round the corner.

  For a moment, I think, Ha! We don’t need to wait in that—they’ll take one look at us and beg us to come inside, but then there are loads of pretty girls standing there, waiting to get in, and we aren’t that special, are we?

  We take our place at the back of the queue and fidget in the chilly air. It’s getting on into spring, but New York has a way of sneaking winter in when you least expect it. I’ve got goosebumps everywhere and I’m shivering.

  Kat groans at how slow the queue is moving, but I lift her spirits by promising to buy her a drink as soon as we get inside. A shot will warm us up, though it’ll also be painfully expensive. In a place like this, I can only imagine what the drinks cost. Water with lemon? That’ll be $378.48.

  I’m already tallying up what I’m allowed to order: a shot for myself and Kat, and one drink. That’s it. Anything else and I’ll end up with a bill that’ll give me a heart attack.

  Yasmine pokes her head round the corner and assures us we’ll be inside really soon.

  The queue does start picking up then, and it only takes a little while until we’re at the front. We hand over our IDs and the bouncer lets us in with a nod of his head. Suddenly, it feels like we’ve really arrived. I feel giddy with excitement. Maybe the queue’s a smart move because it does feel like the place is really exclusive, all dark and moody with flashing lights and trendy furniture. There’re different areas to sit: an outdoor garden with heating lamps near the back, an upstairs VIP area we don’t even bother trying to get into, and a main dance floor. That’s where we settle, trying to get drinks at the bar.

  We agree on a Fireball shot and clink our glasses together before downing them in one go. The cinnamon-flavored whisky burns my throat, but I don’t mind. It heats me from the inside out.

  Yasmine slaps more money down onto the bar. “Another round please!”

  “Yaz,” I moan, not wanting her to feel like she has to fund the evening just because she’s got more money than the rest of us. I can pay for myself if I just go easy.

  “No! I don’t want to hear it!” she says, covering her ears. “I’ve waited on Kat all day and she’s been a real wanker. I need alcohol.”

  “Hey!”

  “The least I can do is get us all properly toasted now, her most of all.”

  “Now, I truly can’t find fault with that,” Kat amends, accepting her second shot and passing me one as well.

  “Why do I feel like this night isn’t going to end well?”

  “Nonsense! We’re all so good at holding our alcohol!”

  It’s a barefaced lie. Wholly inaccurate. When Kat gets drunk, she gets real sobby. She always wants to have a good cry, hug us close, and moan on about how life is fleeting and we have to grasp it with both hands. Yasmine just gets so she’s real horny. Once she’s two sheets to the wind, she’ll kiss anything—a boy, a girl, a broom.

  “All right, let’s just pace ourselves, yes?”

  Kat ignores me and shouts, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!”

  And that’s when the night takes a turn. Fireball is potent, and anyone who says otherwise is a total liar or a total drunkard. Three shots in, I’m feeling it. I know it’s got a bit to do with my size and the fact that we had some wine back at the flat while we were getting ready, but I can’t help it, I LOVE THIS SONG.

  “WE HAVE TO DANCE!”

  And we are dancing! Up on the DJ booth!
I can’t quite work out how we’ve made it from the bar to the booth, but we’re up in here with the DJ and he’s passing Kat his headset and she’s putting it on then jumping up and down in time with the music. The lads in the crowd are eating it up, of course; she’s quite well-endowed, so she’s putting on a good show in her crop top. I’m laughing and I can’t stop laughing no matter how hard I try.

  All I care about is this song and how it sounds, like the music is living inside me. Yasmine turns me toward her and tries to go in for a snog, but I duck out of the way so she ends up kissing the DJ.

  Let me tell you, he’s not upset in the least!

  Then I glance up in the crowd and, lo and behold, LOGAN! He’s here, in the mad throng of people out on the dance floor, and he’s brought his buds. Oh, this is ace.

  “KAT! Kat!” I try to grab her attention over the music, but it takes ages. She doesn’t listen until I pry the headphones off her ears and shout right against her head. “I’ve got you a wonderful birthday present!”

  Her eyes light up with glee. “Oh, you have? What is it?”

  She looks down as if expecting me to whip it out from behind my back. Instead, I turn her so she’s facing the crowd, and then I point out to where Logan and his friends are standing.

  It takes her a second to register what I’m pointing at. Then suddenly, she spins toward me, mouth gaping.

  “THE FOOTBALLER!” Her eyes are bright with excitement. “You’ve brought him here!”

  Without wasting a moment, she grabs my hand and I grab Yasmine’s hand and we’re running from the DJ booth. The crowd boos at our departure—like I said, Kat was really entertaining them—but what do we care?! We have lovely men waiting for us down below.

  With Kat in the lead, threatening to tug my arm out of socket, we barrel through the crowd, leaving me shouting apologies in our wake. Sorry about my friend! I’ve tried having her committed, but they won’t take her! We make it to the guys in no time. Blimey, they’re all quite huge when they stand together like that. Three of them. One for each of us. Kat’s man—the one she immediately steps toward—is lovely with brown skin, very short hair, and a big smile.

  “Oh hello, you. Remember me?”

  His smile widens. “I do, yeah. From Logan’s party. I’m Jay.”

  “Hello, Jay. I’m Kat and it’s my birthday.”

  “Happy birthday,” he says, staring down at her with a mischievous smile.

  I can’t make out what she says next because she sort of whispers it in his ear, but then his eyes go wide, and well, there you have it. I’ve just given Kat the best birthday present she could have ever asked for.

  Yasmine plays a little more hard to get with her man. She reaches her hand out to introduce herself and asks him his name too. He’s called Marcus. He’s got black hair down to his shoulders and some cool tattoos stretching up his arms. Yasmine has always gone for the bad boys, so I know she’s only acting cool. Inside, she’s screaming.

  I finally glance over to Logan, and it’s the first time I’ve really gotten to see him, standing there in his white shirt and jeans. He’s had a haircut, and his brown locks are shorter now. It somehow makes him look sharper, not at all the sweet man I’ve become used to.

  I find I’m shy all of a sudden, as if we hardly know each other.

  He’s studying my reaction to him, tipping his head to the side.

  I cross my arm over my stomach so I can grip my other elbow.

  “Hi you.”

  “Hey,” he says, smiling.

  He’s not making it easy on me. He could step toward me and close the gap between us, but I get the feeling he’s enjoying this, pinning my little mouse tail to the ground with his big cat paw.

  “You look nice,” I say.

  He laughs and shakes his head, turning to his friends. “Come on, let’s go up to the suite.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Candace

  Logan glances over my shoulder and his eyes narrow, assessing the crowd. That’s when I finally start to notice the whispers coming from around us. People have started gathering close, more than a little curious.

  “Is that Logan Matthews?”

  “Dude, I think it is. And that has to be Jay Cruthers with him.”

  “Didn’t he win the Heisman at LSU?”

  Curiosity morphs into courage.

  “Hey! Logan! Can I get a picture?!”

  “Marcus! Jay!”

  It’s definitely time we abandon the main floor and make for higher ground. Logan reaches out to gather me close, and then he pushes me ahead of him, his hand on the small of my back. I don’t make out what he tells the others, but when I glance over my shoulder, they’re following near us. We round the dance floor then head toward a roped-off staircase. The huge bouncer blocking it steps aside immediately once he sees Logan approaching. We start to go up and then once we’re on the second-floor landing, Logan points to a door at the end of the hall.

  It turns out he’s somehow reserved a VIP suite that’s totally separated from the rest of the club. We walk in and the room sprawls out in front of us. There’s a main seating area with drinks and food already set out for us to enjoy. The vibe is even cooler in here than it is down in the rest of the club, not all black leather and tacky plastic lights. It’s got paneled walls and lovely deep library chairs. A heavy chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm glow that competes with the moody club lighting seeping in from the far wall. Over there, the VIP suite has a sunken balcony that overlooks the first floor. I walk over to the edge and look over, and people start to go wild, thinking I’m someone cool. I sort of wave then immediately step back, nervous about all the attention. It’s quite nice the way they’ve designed the space. Unless I’m right at the edge, no one from the first floor can see us. It’s totally private up here.

  The music from below drifts up, but it’s muted so I can actually hear myself think for the first time all night. I turn back around to survey the group. Kat has convinced Jay to crack open a bottle of champagne, and the two of them don’t even bother splitting it with the rest of us poor souls. They just take turns passing it back and forth between them while they sit on the couch, all locked eyes and pervy expressions. I swear Kat will pounce on him at any moment and then we’ll all need therapy from having to see it. She’s like a wildebeest sometimes, but from the look on Jay’s face, he’s not scared in the least.

  Yasmine and Marcus are huddled together in another corner, talking low. He’s twisting his arm, showing her one of his tattoos, and she reaches out to touch it, skimming her finger along his skin. Well, I suppose they’ve hit it off as well.

  Lucky how that’s happened.

  I gird my loins when I scan the area to look for Logan. He’s in the middle of the room, sitting in a leather chair, watching me take everything in. It’s like he’s got it all figured out, like he’s somehow in control of everything I do even though he’s over there and I’m over here. I don’t like it, the way my body seems to be on high alert, the way I’ve lost my grip on myself. I know if I go near him, it’ll be game over. We’ll be as bad as Kat and Jay…so instead, I distract myself.

  I peruse my food options over at the buffet. They’ve got some shrimpy things on toasted flatbread, some chocolate cake bites, nuts, and loads of other finger foods. I don’t eat anything; my stomach couldn’t bear it. Instead, I move down the line to the drinks. There’s quite a lot of liquor bottles up here. We could probably make any drink we wanted, but I’ve already reached my limit for the night so I move right along.

  I tip back on my heels and turn around. Logan’s still in his spot, making my knees go weak, so I turn away quickly. Well, right. Now that the food and drinks have been covered, guess I should take in the artwork on the walls. I get to one of the framed pieces and am having a good look at it when Logan’s presence becomes painfully obvious behind me.

  He’s apparently had enough of waiting.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Appreciati
ng art. I mean look at those colors! The movement! The subject matter!”

  “Right. I think that’s just the fire code information they have to post.”

  Oh. Well that does explain all the words.

  “I wouldn’t expect a brute like you to understand art.”

  He laughs and grabs my hand when I try to make a break for it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Avoiding you. I thought that was obvious.”

  He frowns, and even that is cute. Ugh! Lord help me!

  “Why?”

  “Because, well…you…” I frown, trying to come up with some way to get my feelings across without totally scaring him off. “It’s just a bit much, y’know. Do you feel it?”

  I quirk a brow, trying for lighthearted, fun mate rather than girl falling hopelessly in love.

  He steps closer and grasps my waist with both hands. My body gets hijacked right away. It’s just the size of him, his huge grip on my middle. With him hovering over me, I’m cast in shadow, but so is he. I can only make out half his features, and it sends a little panicked thrill down my spine.

  “Why do you think I’m here?” he asks, sincerely.

  “Oh, for a laugh?”

  “Candace.”

  “All right, fine. You wanted your lads to have a bit of fun. I’ll bet Kat and Jay are ripping each other’s clothes off as we speak.”

  “I’m not sure. They went out to the VIP bar.”

  Sure enough, when I duck around him to glance at the rest of the gang, everyone’s gone. They’ve left us!

  Logan keeps hold of my waist and starts walking us back to the chair he was sitting in. I let him, because…well, it gets exhausting trying to keep a distance. I’ve only got so much strength left in these weary bones, and if he’s intent on having me sit down on his lap, who am I to argue?

  “There’s plenty of other seating,” I tease.

  He smiles and adjusts me so my knees go on either side of his hips.

  Well, that’s quite a wonderful position, I’d say. It’s like he planned it perfectly.