“Which T-shirt was he wearing that night?” Finn and his buddies laughed again.
Wracking my brain, I pictured Wyatt as he’d been in the bar the night we met. Then I remembered. “It was something about UFOs. What does his T-shirt have to do with anything?”
“Be damned. You met him on probably the one night he wore something appropriate.” Cupping his elbow in his hand, Finn tapped a finger to his lips. “You kind of are a unicorn.”
“Excuse me?”
“Because you only show up at games, never at parties or the house, and you always bring him good luck.” He winked. “Now some of the rest of us know you’re real”—he glanced around at the group of guys with him—“we can stop giving him shit about his fantasies.” Coughing into his hand, he said, “Or not. After seeing you up close, I’m not convinced you’re anything but Bax’s fantasy.”
With a shake of my head, I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous, Finn.” Turning to Chessly, I asked, “How do you know this guy again?”
“Jamaica dates Callahan O’Reilly, one of his other roommates, even if she won’t admit they’re dating. Finn and I met through them at the Homecoming bonfire.” Chess readjusted the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Finn tracked her every movement.
“Uh-huh.” I let the sarcasm ooze from my voice.
“I’m not the one hooking up with Wildcats players.” With a sniff, my friend stuck her nose in the air as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Something in the way Finn gazed at her told me he could change that status whenever she gave the word.
Before I could pursue the idea further, she added, “But since you’re staying here over Thanksgiving, maybe you should give Bax a call. Bet he’d be more fun than binge-watching Pedro Pascal movies.” A snort of laughter escaped her, and she glanced away to cover it.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Who are you to dis Pedro?”
Saylor stage-whispered into my ear, “You have to admit, Chess’s idea is good.” A grin tipped up the corner of her mouth.
“I like my plan better.” Deliberately ignoring my friend’s eye roll, I turned my attention to the assembled football players and said, “Excuse me, Finn.” I glanced around at the smirking faces of his friends. “Guys. It was interesting meeting you, but I’m going to be late for class.” Shifting my gaze back to my friends, I added, “See you after Thanksgiving. Have fun. Eat all the food.” After giving each of them a quick hug, I hot-footed my way out of that supremely uncomfortable conversation.
Call Wyatt over Thanksgiving? Sure. My inner voice stretched the word to the breaking point.
While my brain slammed the door on the idea, my lady bits tingled in anticipation of it.Damn it.Even though my battery-operated boyfriend had adequately replaced Charlie after I broke things off with him, BOB had come in a distant second to a one-night stand with Wyatt. Mainly because of that, I had no intention of hooking up with him again. With the way he’d rescued me, entertained me, and pleasured me, I had a sinking suspicion I could fall for him if I spent more time with him. But The Fuckery had taught me a valuable lesson—one I’d learned well. A lesson that said guys were great for scratching an itch every now and then, but not for allowing into my heart.
Wyatt had started out as entertaining and fun and ended up rocking my world. Then he accepted my reticence in giving him my number, which meant he’d checked off some important boxes. But he was still a guy, and a football player, so one and done with him would have to be enough for my greedy body in defense of my heart.
Yet as I walked away from my friends and again as I drove home from my last class before the holiday, Chessly’s suggestion tumbled around in my brain. Since the Wildcats had made the playoffs, the players would all remain in town over the break. The alums would treat them to a Thanksgiving feast, then they’d play their first playoff game Saturday afternoon. Even as I started my Pedro Pascal binge-a-thon on Wednesday night, the idea of Wyatt staying nearby never strayed far from my mind.
On Thanksgiving Day as I sat in my quiet apartment eating my turkey dinner for one and scrolling through social media, my thumb hovered over my photos. Giving in, I pulled up the screenshot of Wyatt’s number.
This is a very badidea.
Chapter Seven
Wyatt
“Turns out Baxtold the truth. His mystery hookup is a real girl, not a unicorn,” Finn announced as my roommates and I rolled into the house after Wednesday’s practice.
“For fuck’s sake, Finnegan. Of course she’s a real girl.” Callahan smacked Finn up the back of his head on his way through the living room.
As I joined him in the kitchen, he added, “Though, with that bright purple hair, I can see how Finn might think she’s a unicorn.” He snickered at his joke, and my hand itched to smack him upside the head. Sobering, he said, “From what I could see from the field, your lady is hot. I can see how that hair grabbed your attention.” He pulled a shaker out of the cupboard and filled it with milk and protein powder. “But you dialed into her on Saturday when she covered that glorious hair, which gives your hookup story more credibility.”
“Jesus! You guys act like I’ve never had a date before.” I might have gotten carried away shaking my own drink as my shaker frothed out when I popped the top, forcing me to drink it quickly over the sink.
“You’ve had a date before?” Danny asked as he joined us in the kitchen.
I flipped him the bird. “Watch yourself, New Guy.”
He laughed as he made his protein shake. Apparently, my roommates had declared open season on my love life—or lack of one.
Bastards.
