“I don’t know how you didn’t strangle him all the time when we were kids.” I huff.
Mason is clearly curious about Mikey’s abrupt departure but chooses to leave it alone. “His persistence and tendency to be a jackass is part of his charm.”
Mason leans in closer to whisper something about Mikey striking out across the bar, and I’m immediately hit byhim— the smell of pine needles and soap. My eyes trail down his neck and exposed collarbone, and my body feels warm. It’s been a while since I had a man in my bed and man would I—Whoa there Vi.Weare not going there. Get a grip woman.
As I recover from my momentary blip, I realize Mason has caught me staring. He takes this as permission to return the favor and takes me in fully; I feel my heart racing as his eyes traildown my multicolored blue sweater. I feel frozen in time and space as he tucks away one of my loose curls.
Mason’s green eyes are nowhere near my eyes when he says, “Don’t tell Coach Jameson, but I was entirely too distracted by the fact that I could hear you out there tonight.”
“Sorry for all the heckling. I know I can get carried away during games.” I’m not sorry. I hope that ref lays in bed thinking about what a turd he is.
“That’s not what I meant.” His hand trails down my arm as he entwines our fingers together.
He presses his lips to my ear. “Knowing you were in the crowd always lit a fire under my ass when I was playing. I felt the same energy today when I was coaching.”
Objectively what he is saying isn’t sexual, but in a whisper, it feels explicit. Time to throw some water on this fire he’s stroking. “Well, I’m glad you invited me. It felt like old times again.”
He straightens, “I hope that’s a good thing. Although I did subject you to Mikey for a few hours so maybe I should be apologizing instead.”
“Yeah, on your knees Hayes.”Fuck that was definitely sexual.I take two large gulps of my cider and let the alcohol wash over me. It’s funny how drinking calms you down enough to not say something stupid, only to fuel you to say the next stupid thing with abandon. The cider rushes straight to my heart as I say, “Mikey and Bradon have a bet about how long we remain platonic.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. The wager is pre- or post-New Year’s. I’m thinking about throwing $50 in. I happen to have some insider info.”
A flicker of heat flashes in Mason’s eyes as he leans closer, his face inches away from mine. “Huh. I’d thrown in $100 to tip the scales p?—”
“Did you two see that!?” Mikey’s voice is the firefighter hose we needed, extinguishing that dangerous flame we were stoking. “I’ve never struck out at O’Malley’s before.”
“I told you the mullet wasn’t doing you any favors,” Mason quips. He’s cool and collected as ever. Like we hadn’t been moments away from kissing.
“The mullet has been a big hit for the past six months thank you very much. This is not a me problem.” Mikey steals Mason’s beer and finishes it off. “I’m 0-2 in being appreciated tonight. It’s a shame really.”
I snort. “I can’t believe she didn’t want to sleep with you, considering how humble you are.”
“I know. Guess I’ll just have to stick to being an arrogant jackass. Now if only I had a best friend or two that could buy me a drink and help me lick my wounds.”
“Yeah, if only.” I laugh but still make a move to slide out of my chair when I feel a warm hand on the small of my back.
“I’ll grab it.” Mason stops me before heading to the bar, empty glasses in hand. The heat from his palm still burns as he walks away.
“You know in another life I really think I could’ve been a solid matchmaker.” Mikey points his eyes at Mason.
I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t quit your day job.”
Mikey would be a good matchmaker if the goal was for couples with intense chemistry to fuck each other senselessly, break up painfully, and forever pine for one another pitifully.Meet Mason and Violet. They are your token best friend’s brother, friends to lovers to enemies, workplace romance. And they lived happily never after.Jesus. Maybe I also needed another drink.
twenty-seven
. . .
Violet
“Arewe sure it’s not too late to quit academia?” Maya groans, shoving her laptop across the desk after spending the last three hours trying unsuccessfully to fix her coding script.
“Well, given that you’ve already received your PhD, are about to finish your postdoc, and are actively interviewing for faculty positions…I’d say that ship has sailed for you.”
“I don’t know. I feel like we could still throw caution to the wind and set up a bookstore-café together. Or maybe even move to Scotland and set up a little Bed ‘n Breakfast while we charm the townies with our American ways.” She sighs hopefully.
