I shrug and hook my thumbs in the pockets of my jeans. “Maybe. I’m just trying to take it one week at a time.”
“Smart man.” She smiles, lips parting like the Red Sea. “I’m Alyson, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Alyson.” She’s a pretty girl and it’s clear she works out to stay fit, but I’m not feeling it. There’s no spark. No chemistry.No snarky banter?Whatever. “I was just heading to the kitchen to grab another lager, so—”
“What a coincidence,” she says, cutting me off before I can give her the brushoff. “Me, too.”
Yeah-fucking-right.
Guests drink from the punch bowl or the keg, and while I’m technically a guest, Coop’s frat brothers are gracious enough to let us drink the good shit they keep in the fridge. It’s a privilege I’m careful not to abuse, but when Alyson hooks her arm through mine, it’s clear she’s not going anywhere, so I lead the way, cutting a path through the crowd.
It’s quieter in the kitchen, just a handful of people standing around talking. I detangle myself from Alyson and grab two bottles of lager from the fridge. She watches, dark eyes calculating, as I pop the tops off and hand her one.
I tip mine to my lips, and take a long pull, willing Alyson to lose interest and move on.
“You’re a senior, right?” she asks, setting her bottle on the counter and sashaying toward me. “Do you plan to enter the draft in the spring?”
I snort and nearly choke on my beer.
Alyson clearly hasn’t done her homework. If she had, she’d already know the answer, but the question tells me everything I need to know about the jersey chaser. She isn’t looking to bag ’n’ brag. She’s looking for something more permanent.
You’ve gotta give the girl credit for cutting right to the chase.
There are plenty of guys who’d be cool with that kind of setup, but I’m not one of them.
And not just because I’m spread too thin for a relationship.
“Nah.” I lean against the counter, crossing my ankles in front of me to stop her advance. “I’ll be back at Waverly next year to finish my degree.”
“I’ve heard some guys do that to improve their draft position.” She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and looks up at me from under her lashes. “Though you hardly look like you need another year to bulk up.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but pro ball isn’t in my future.” Never has been. I’m a big dude, but professional tight ends are huge. I’d need to grow a few inches and add about thirty pounds of solid muscle to even have a shot. “Plenty of guys on the team looking to go pro though.”
“Yeah?” She quirks a brow like I might start namedropping.
I shrug and take another pull on my beer. As I lower the bottle, I catch a flash of blue hair in the hall.
No way.
It can’t be. This isn’t her scene.
Only one way to be sure.
“Excuse me.” I straighten. “I need to go say hi to a friend.”
It’s a stretch. I doubt Sutton would ever use the words Parker and friend in the same sentence, but what Alyson doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
The brunette juts out her bottom lip, but I don’t stick around to hear if she protests. I push off the counter and stride across the kitchen, which has two entrances. One at the front that leads to the main hall and one at the back that opens to an old servant’s passage.
A passage that leads to what is arguably the world’s most disgusting bathroom.
It’s so bad, anyone with a cock just pisses off the back porch.
As expected, there’s a long line of women waiting to use the restroom and I’ll be damned, Sutton is among them.
She’s halfway down the line and her back is to me, but there’s no mistaking that cobalt hair. It’s loose tonight, spilling over her shoulders in soft waves. Waves I’d like to wrap around my fist as I fuck the snark right out of her.
My cock stirs at the fantasy and my gaze dips to take in the rest of her.
