There wasn’t a lot of pain, just tenderness when I clenched my hand, so I figured it was healing fairly well.
Haze made quick work of rebandaging my hand, but our fingers brushed on multiple occasions which earned a wide-eyed stare of confusion from Brodie when he entered the room.
My back straightened when the others joined us, Lacey chatting animatedly to Andrew, who was actually smiling and chatting back. She had them all completely charmed, and all I could think was how hard it had been for me to win even the smallest step of trust and friendship with half the guys in Bluebell House. Lacey, on the other hand, was their favorite darling, knowing everything about their lives and showing genuine caring in her questions and conversation.
Monster.
“Boom!” Brodie shouted. “Evie, headshot again. Babe, what’s happening? You’re letting Haze own you.”
He dropped down on my free side, and Ethan slid in between my legs on the floor, the pair offering me comfort, though I doubted they knew how badly I needed it. Even Haze being so close felt nice, and for the first time since I’d run into Lacey this morning, I was finally able to relax.
Until Connor opened his big fucking mouth. “Maybe last night was just a fluke. You oversold your skills, brat.”
Focusing on the game for the first time, I grunted in response, not bothering to give him more of my time than that. The focus at least allowed me to get my head back into the game, even as I swore I felt a green-eyed gaze boring into the side of my face.
I managed to kill a few more of the bots we played against and got Haze more than once, and all the time Connor kept niggling at me. “Pouting doesn’t suit you, Evelyn,” he grumbledat one point, and I swung around like I hadn’t even known he was there.
“Oh, Sullivan. I thought you were on kitchen duty today. Shouldn’t you be checking on the pasta?”
He smirked, and the temptation to smack it off his face was strong. “It’s well in hand. You’ll find that there’s very little outside of my control. Ever.”
Was that fucking right? Well, he was about to learn a hard lesson then. “You know what?” I said brightly, before I reached out and wrapped my hands around Ethan and Brodie’s shoulders. “I’m not really feeling pasta. I think a nice dinner out is exactly what we need tonight. A few drinks, food that’sedible, and a chance to relax. What do you think, boys?”
Brodie was on his feet before I even finished speaking, and while Ethan turned his shrewd gaze on me, sensing I remained out of sorts, thankfully he didn’t call me out in front of everyone. He just tilted his head and pressed his lips to my hand on his shoulder. “That sounds perfect, and I know just the place.”
He got up first and pulled me to my feet, all but lifting me into his arms.
“Don’t wait up for us,” Brodie called, bouncing on his toes. “It’s fucking date night.”
Date night with two guys. Well, that was one way to take my mind off the other shit in my life.
36
EVELYN
Igenuinely didn’t give a shit where we went for dinner, so long as I could get out of the house and away from Lacey. Okay, fuck,Laceywasn’t the problem—she actually seemed lovely and I could see why the boys all thought the sun shined out of her backside. Connor was the problem. Or more specifically, my uncontrollable embarrassment over how deluded I’d been.
My plan to give him the cold shoulder wasn’t working either. I’d tried, but then he’d been all snarky and teasing and the urge to snap back was all too much.
Embarrassing. No other word for it. I was acting like some kind of obsessive, controlling psycho who’d writtenmineon every man in Bluebell House, whether I liked them or not. Didn’t matter. Allmine.
“You okay?” Ethan asked, squeezing my hand as we entered the run-down country western bar on the far side of Meadowridge town.
I nodded, shoving all thoughts of Connor, Lacey, and my underlying urge to piss all over my territory aside. “Yeah.” Then I tipped my head to Brodie, who’d put on a black baseball capin what had to be the lamest attempt at celebrity disguise ever. “Is it safe for him to be here? The fans…”
“He’s fine here,” Ethan assured me as Brodie swaggered over to the bar. “The staff are discreet thanks to the nature of Meadowridge College itself. And as you can see…not many customers to worry about.”
He was right. There were only a handful of patrons in the bar, which made sense considering it was a Monday night in a college town. In fact, I recognized the group of middle-aged guys playing pool as security guards from campus.
Brodie strode over to our booth with a jug of something and three tumblers in hand, not to mention a wide grin on his face as he plonked it down on the table.
“I hope you like spicy margaritas, Evie babe, because it’s my favorite.” He gestured for me to slide over in the semi-circle booth seat and sat down, trapping me in the middle.
I cautiously accepted the tumbler he poured for me and took a sniff. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried it before.”
Ethan groaned, then laughed, shaking his head. “Fucking hell, you’re not legal to drink yet, are you?”
“Nope,” I replied, taking a little sip. At first I thought it was just citrusy sour, but then the spice hit the back of my tongue and I gasped. “Holy shit.”
