I spot Brooke,Eli, and a few other guys sitting with them. They all look like Brads. Three-quarter zips; nice, clean-cut hair; jeans that look like they’ve been ironed, for fuck’s sake. They probably all drink matcha too.
Essentially, the complete opposite of me. I’m covered in tattoos, and I have short hair, too, but mine always looks a little messy. And considering my physique, there’s no mistaking I’m an athlete. The thing about me that they wouldn’t know by looks alone is that I’m probably smarter than they are. I don’t hide my intelligence, but I don’t flaunt it like these dickbags. Plus, it’s something I had to grow into. The confidence to accept that I was smart and not the funny, dumb kid who couldn’t read in elementary school.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t read; I’m dyslexic, and no one caught it until I was in middle school. It wasn’t a teacher, but was a coach actually. Once we figured it out, my life changed. Hours of after-school tutoring at an Orton-Gillingham reading center, vision therapy, and a shit ton of hard work paid off. School became fun, but I still wanted to fit in, so I held on to my sense ofhumor. But when I came to college, I became comfortable with how smart I was.
These guys though? They want you to know how smart they are. They think they’re better than everyone.
“Let’s sit down there.” I point to the seats right above Brooke.
Bo shakes his head and laughs. “Lead the way, Romeo.”
“Wait, we’re going to sit with Brooke? Isn’t she with that boyfriend of hers? I don’t want to sit with those dickheads.”
“Why do you think we’re here in the first place?” Bo hits him in the chest. “Keep up, Griff.”
“Oh shit,” I hear him mumble behind me as I descend the stairs to the row directly above Brooke and Eli.
A few people recognize us as we walk by, and we smile and nod. Bo stops for a few selfies, but I move down the row until I’m right behind Brooke’s seat. She hasn’t noticed me yet, but Eli turns as I plop down in my seat, and I see him roll his eyes.
I love to fuck with this guy whenever he’s around—which, funny enough, she doesn’t bring him around much. Or he doesn’t want to be around us. Who knows? I sure as fuck don’t care.
I lean forward, in between them, and turn my face to Brooke. “Hey.”
She nearly jumps with surprise. “Silas. What are you doing here?”
“I’m watching the basketball game. Huge fan.”
“You are not.” She leans away from the close proximity of my face to hers.
“Oh, but I am.”
Eli clears his throat. “Brooke, you didn’t tell me your security crew would be joining us tonight.”
“They’re not my security crew, Eli. I had no idea they were coming.”
“Hey, Brooke. How’s it going?” Bo sits down next to me and smiles at her.
“Hi, Bo.” She smiles, but she looks uncomfortable as Eli gives her the side-eye.
“Little Linson! What up?” Aston holds out a fist for her to bump.
“So, you had no idea they were coming, but they intend to sit right behind us. Awesome.” Eli shakes his head, irritated.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why it’s a problem. They’re my friends. You have your friends here, and I didn’t care that they were coming with us.”
“Actually, Brooke, I had these plans with my friends and invited you to join.”
What a fucking asshole. How can she be with a guy like this?
I lean forward again, with a smile on my face, ready to tear into this douchecanoe, but Brooke catches my eye and subtly shakes her head.
“Okay, well, I thought you wanted me here because you said you hadn’t seen me much this week. Sorry that I misunderstood.”
Fuck that. She shouldn’t be with a guy like this. She should not be apologizing to this guy.
Bo grabs my shoulder and pulls me back. “Dude, let it be. Don’t make a scene here. There are eyes and cameras all around.”
“I won’t, but do you hear this guy?”
