It’s then that I notice the telltale shadowing of Brookes’s right eye. The guy is a fucking mess. I know. I’ve seen my dad go through it, and I can tell, as much as this guy tries to hide it by playing this cocky jokester, he’s balancing precariously on the edge. I almost feel bad for him.
The unease I felt earlier in my stomach unfurls, and I watch as Hannah shoves him away. She’s not interested in him. She looks at me, rolling her eyes, and I press my lips together in an attempt to stifle my smile.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Hannah says, flashing a glare in Brookes’s direction before leaning over the counter to get Lou’s attention. “Don’t serve him, Lou,” she shouts over the music, jerking her thumb at Brookes.
Lou nods, and Brookes throws his head back on a heavy groan. I can’t help but chuckle, turning to watch Hannah walk off toward the bathrooms, her hips swaying in the tight jeans she’s wearing.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Hannah?”
I startle, finding Brookes leaning in, his breath hot and meat-scented, making me grimace ever so slightly. Pulling back, I blink at him. “What?”
“You and Hannah Banana,” he presses, grin knowing. “The way she was watching you during the game tonight, I just assumed—” He cuts himself off. “Look, I’m not gonna lie… she’s hot. I tried to kiss her last night.”
My hand balls into a fist, and this guy’s face is looking more and more punchable with every word he says.
“And I really wanna try and kiss her again, but if you guys are… y’know—” He clicks his tongue, winking conspiratorially and holding his hands up in surrender as he says, “Then just tell me, and I’ll back right off.”
Hannah reappears from the bathroom, walking back toward us, her face indifferent save for the look of unadulterated hatred she has focused directly on Brookes. I highly doubt she’s at all interested in kissing him, but who am I to know who she’s kissing? “Yeah, no, man. She’s umm…” I puff a breath from my lips as I consider myself, offering him a look I hope he understands. “I think she’s… she’s good.”
“Oh, shit. Roger that,” Brookes says, looking at me long and hard. “Sorry, man.” Again, he holds his hands up in the air and takes a few steps back, allowing Hannah to move in between us.
“Here you go, Hap.” Lou places the tray laden with drinks in front of me, and I hand him my card to tap.
I take the glass of wine from the collection and hand it to Hannah, noticing her first real smile of the night as she accepts it, craning up and whispering into my ear, “Are you going to take me home and finish what you started last night, or am I destined to have to hate you forever?”
As I look down at her, noticing the way one of her perfect eyebrows lifts almost tauntingly, my dick twitches. But before I take the drinks and deliver them to my friends and drag her out of here and into my truck, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, reality crashes over me from the text message displayed on the screen.
Allie: Can you come home. Please?
Dragging a hand down over my face, I groan inwardly, and when I look up, Hannah’s smile falters.
I offer her a hopeful grin, holding my phone up as if that explains it all. “Uh, rain check?”
Her pretty face morphs from playful to downright pissed. “Look, just forget it,” she mutters, spinning on her heel and storming back to her high-top table.
“Fuck’s sake,” I whisper under my breath, glancing from my phone, to the tray of drinks, to Hannah as she takes her seat right back next to Brookes motherfucking Devereaux. That asshole had better keep his goddamn mitts off her because I’m not a fighter, but I won’t hesitate to kick his ass if I have to.
CHAPTER 15
HANNAH
The Uber pulls up to the curb outside Happy’s house and my breath is momentarily stolen. Happy Slater lives in a stately townhouse on the Upper East Side, in a row of perfect townhomes on East 76thstreet. I’ve never been here. To my knowledge no one has. It’s like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
Apparently, his dad, Jonny, bought the place back in the nineties so that they would have a base for when Linda was in the city for her modeling. He converted the entire basement floor into a state-of-the-art recording studio where his band, The Rouse, recorded their triple platinum album,Clandestiny.
Jonny held onto the property, and now Happy lives here, in a five-story townhouse, all by himself. Or at least that’s what everyone thinks. I’m not entirely convinced anymore. First his phone call where he told someone he loves them, and now, his secretive text messages forcing him to ditch me after I practically offered my pussy to him on a silver goddamn platter. It’s why I’m here now, completely unannounced and probably a little more tipsy than I should be considering I’m about to potentially find out that Happy Slater is harboring some secret relationship with a woman he may or may not be cheating on. With me. Myhands ball into fists at the thought because I swear to all that is holy, if I find out that I am, once again, the other woman, after Happy dared to look me dead in my eyes and assure me that there would be no other women, if I walk up that pretty stoop lined with pretty potted flowers, to that blue door to confront him, and I find out that he lied, I am going to lose my ever-loving shit.
With a deep, fortifying breath, I hop out of the Uber, the Toyota pulling away as I stand on the sidewalk staring up at the grand, limestone building with its greenery climbing up the façade and the Juliette balconies coming off every high arched window. I don’t miss the way my heart races. And the truth is, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I am. And it’s not just the possibility of finding out that Happy might have lied to me. If I’m being deadass, when Happy and I walked Toast Malone together the other night, when he and I had an actual conversation for the first time ever, I saw Happy in a different light. And… I don’t know; feelings are looming.
With another deep breath, I shake out my hands as I walk up the steps, stopping at the top and pressing the button for the doorbell before I can chicken out.
I’m left waiting for a few minutes, but that’s not surprising considering the size of this place. I glance at the Ring camera and suspect I’ve been seen, so when I hear the telltale sound of hurried footsteps come from the other side of the big blue door, I stand up as tall as my five-feet-six allows me, squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin a little higher. But when the door opens, revealing a beautiful raven-haired woman, my bravado immediately falls as the realization that I was fucking right crashes over me like a tsunami.
“Hi…” The woman smiles, tentatively. “C-can I… help you?”
I swallow hard around the lump wedged painfully in my throat.Don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry. Clearing my throat, I swallow again. “Is H-Happy here?”
The woman arches an eyebrow, looking me up and down. It’snot in a judgmental way, or even a defensive way. It’s more confusion. More… curiosity.
