I tap my glass to hers, and we simultaneously swallow them.
“Oh my god,” I complain as it burns down my throat. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time. When I was in Vegas, shots were as commonplace as coffee.
“We’re gonna win the fucking league,” Casey continues with the second shot.
I follow her actions, my throat on fire as I do.
“Right, we’re gonna have these,” she says, pointing at the cocktails, “watch the post-game, and then we’re going dancing. But first…” She pulls her cell from her bra and snuggles in close to take a selfie of the two of us. Seconds later, it’s up on Instagram with a few others she’s already taken tonight. At least it’ll give us something to remember the night by, should she continue ordering us shots.
22
COLE
“Your girl is a bad influence,” I mutter as I swipe through Casey’s stories of her and Freya’s night out so far.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he counters. “I’m pretty sure Freya can hold her own, though. She lived in Vegas for a few years. She can probably out-party all of us.”
“I’m not sure she’s that kind of girl anymore.”
“What you’re looking at would suggest otherwise.”
I mumble a response as I continue swiping.
I can’t lie; I’m majorly regretting telling Freya to wear the green dress. She looks incredible, and I’m in an entirely different fucking state. There is no way she doesn’t have guys trying to chat her up every three seconds.
Deep down, though, I know it was the only option. She might have been questioning the dress, but I bet she feels amazing right now. She needs a few guys to chat her up—as much as I hate the idea of it—to give her confidence a much-needed boost.
She seems to think she’s a lesser version of herself now, and I need to prove to her that she’s not.
Her heart may be battered and bruised. But she’s still the same person she’s always been. She just needs to put the pastwhere it belongs and embrace the life she has now. And as I stare at a photo of her with her head thrown back laughing, I think she’s just about figuring it out.
“Why are you staring at your new chef quite so intently, anyway?” Kodie teases beside me.
“I was worried about her,” I confess.
“I’m not sure you need to be. She looks like she’s coping just fine.”
“She’s…”
Kodie pats my leg and laughs as if he’s heard some unspoken joke.
“You’re so fucked.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” It makes him laugh even harder.
“Just you wait.”
I like Casey’s stories before forcing myself to put my cell back into my pocket and focus on celebrating with the guys. Tonight might have been down to the wire, but it was a damn good game. One I wasn’t sure we were going to win for a moment there.
I let in two goals, which is a kicker after the way I’ve been playing recently. But it is what it is. I can’t allow it to fuck up my focus moving forward.
I reach for my beer and swallow a couple of mouthfuls, drowning out the bitter disappointment over my performance tonight so I can focus on what’s most important. Our W.
Just like Casey and Freya, the guys and I hit up a local club, but I cut myself off after my third drink. We’re flying back early tomorrow, and I’m too fucking old to travel with a hangover— something that many of the others don’t seem to give a shit about.
“Hey, it’s our legend of a tendy,” Monroe slurs as he stumbles over.
“Hey, it’s our wasted rookie,” Linc teases in return.
