Not helpful,she shot back.
But now was not the time to be arguing with herself. No, getting Nate out of her apartment as quickly as she could needed to happenright now.
“I had a great time last night,” he said, the grin growing as he took in her miles of bare leg. Her sheets rested low on his hips, leaving his smooth chest and ridiculously abdominals on full display. Wasn’t this guy, according to Brent, married to med school? How the fuck did he have the time to look that delicious?
Focus, Monroe.
“Me too,” she said out loud, tugging on the hem of the shirt and squeezing her eyes shut, begging her mind to dredge up some sort of memory of their time together.
Unfortunately, her tequila-soaked brain was, at the moment, entirely useless, which was honestly probably for the best. The most she could conjure up was the shots of tequila they’d taken in the kitchen when they got back from the bar. After that, it was flashes of tongues and teeth and lips and hands andfinallythe release that put her blissfully to sleep.
She had never been one to regret her sexual encounters, but sleeping with someone as a way to ease the pain of Mitch leaving, and not just anyone but Brent Jean’s brother, was a bad decision she could have lived without.
But she couldn’t go back. The best she could do at this point was try to minimize the damage, which meant getting Nate back to Brent and Berkley’s as soon as possible.
And making sure no one, especially not Mitch, ever found out about how she spent her time mere hours after he pulled his disappearing act. Only the four of them—Brent, Berkley, Nate, and herself—would know what happened last night.
“Do you need me to call you a car or something?” She asked, wincing at her bluntness. Turns out, hungover, heartbroken Lexie wasn’t one for mincing words.
Then again, neither was stone-cold sober Lexie, so it was honestly par for the course.
“Oh,” Nate said, eyes widening. He tossed back the covers and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Sure. Thanks.”
Lexie spun away from the sight of all that naked, bronzed skin and stumbled around the room, looking for her phone. It was only when she padded out into the living room that she remembered: she had shattered it against the wall in Mitch’s apartment yesterday, which precipitated Berkley coming to check on her, thus leading them to the bar and her current predicament.
Well fuck,she thought.Who knew a little phone could cause so much trouble?
She spun on her heel and backtracked to her room. “Sooooo…small problem. I sort of broke my phone yesterday.”
Nate laughed, a low, husky thing that had the muscles of his abs clenching in a truly distracting way. Lexie had to admit that the boy was a smoke show. But she needed him out. She needed time and space to pick up the literal pieces of her phone and figurative pieces of her life.
And she couldn’t do that with a naked man in her bed, a naked man who was decidedlynotMitch Frambough.
She sighed.You dumb bitch.
But again, now was not the time. She could shame-spiralafterNate left.
“Don’t worry, Lexie,” Nate said, standing to dress. Lexie quickly averted her eyes. “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I find my pants.”
She spotted them on the floor in front of her and picked them up, tossing them to him behind her back.
“Look,” she croaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. “We can agree no one can ever find out about this, right? I…” she trailed off, unsure how to explain.
She what? Was a fucking mess? Was in love with another man?
“Say no more, Lexie,” Nate said, slipping his shirt over his head and finally concealing the skin Lexie now distinctly remembered running her tongueallover last night. “My brother knowing is bad enough. We had fun. That’s all. We don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”
Despite the regret and shame roiling in her gut, Lexie’s shoulders relaxed. “I agree. Thank you.”
Once fully dressed, Nate stopped next to her to give her a brief peck on the cheek and then disappeared. Seconds later, her front door opened and clicked shut behind him.
Only then, for the second time that week, when the quiet pressed in around her, did she fall on the floor, curl herself into a ball, and cry.
TwodaysafterleavingDetroit, Mitch stepped into the arena for his first practice as a member of the Los Angeles Knights.
And he’d be damned if it wasn’t the strangest sensation.
Walking into a new locker room was reminiscent of being the new kid on the first day of school. Mitch didn’t know anyone, didn’t know his way around, or yet understand the social hierarchy among his new teammates.
