His smile is just as bad as my brother’s, so I roll my eyes, but he’s completely unfazed as he pulls me close and kisses the top of my head.
“Collins and Bennet are cool too, if you’re looking,” he tells me in a hushed voice, then adds, “Collins is a freshman if you want younger, and Bennet’s a senior who just transferred, so he doesn’t know anything other than you’re my sister and he better not hurt you, or let anyone else. I can vouch for both, and talk your brothers into accepting them if you click.”
I’m not sure how I feel about him trying to set me up, but claiming me as his sister like it’s a fact makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.
“Happy birthday Parker. You’re really the best.” I hug him before going to the darts.
Maybe it would be easier to date a football player, now my brother’s no longer on the team. One who hopefully wouldn’t make a big deal of it, because Parker is a way easier in for Dallas. But they all still worship my brother, and might not want to risk upsetting him, either by dating me in the first place, or dumping me when the initial glimmer wears off. I like the idea of someone liking me for me, no ulterior motives. And I’m sort of falling for Noah, even if I’d rather not admit it.
Manning and Jacques are like Parker, extensions of my brother, so I have fun playing darts with them and getting all the gossip, until the first girl I don’t recognize stumbles in and leaves the door open. She calls the winner, eying Jacques seductively, so I throw the game, getting a reproachful look from Manning, who was rooting for me, but more partygoers find us, so he quickly gets distracted. Every time someone comes in, I turn and look, hoping to see Noah. I’m disappointed when it isn’t, even though he had a game today, and the last thing I want is for my two worlds to mix when I have worked very hard to not have Noah be another person calling me Baby James. Though it could be funny to watch all Dallas’ old teammates grill Noah for a few seconds before I die of embarrassment.
“Do you think Dallas James will make an appearance? They’re best friends, right?”
I tense when a girl to my right mentions my brother.
“I heard they grew up together,” her friend agrees, craning her neck to see out into the living room.
“I doubt it,” a guy behind me says, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. I hear Dallas’ voice, and a mix of fear and excitement overcomes me before I notice his phone is showing a live from one of Dallas’ NFL teammates. “They stayed in Vegas after the game last night to watch the fight tonight.”
The fight was actually a last-minute add-on to their equipment manager’s bachelor party, the real reason they stayed in Vegas, but instead of correcting him, I take a step back, closer to the wall he just vacated.
“Are you friends, or…”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say we’re brothers, but I’d know if he was coming to town,” he assures them, and I roll my eyes. It could be true, but I feel like anyone Dallas is friends with wouldn’t need to name drop him to impress a girl. Wouldn’t want to. But I’ve already proven I’m naïve when it comes to that stuff.
Natasha, the girl who cornered me in the football stands for Dallas’ number, walks in, so I slip out to avoid another confrontation, with a quick wave to the guys. Manning waves back, but Jacques has a girl in his lap, so I smile at how some things stay the same.
I have less than five minutes left, which I’m pretty sure counts as an hour, but I want to say goodbye to Parker. Who is nowhere to be found. I wander around rooms, making sure to actively search for him, as opposed to how I used to go from room to room at parties I didn’t feel comfortable at, pretending I had a purpose rather than just being awkward with no one to talk to.
A heaviness settles in my chest, because I really don’t like being that girl. The one who doesn’t belong. Clay says everyone feels that way sometimes, but I feel it most of the time. It might be why I wrote so much in high school. A kid sitting alone is sad, but a kid writing furiously might have turned down offers to play so they could catch up on homework. Or, in my case, it didn’t matter that I was alone, because the characters in my story were surrounded by people who loved them and thought they were amazing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Noah
I’ve Got Her
We walk into the football house for Parker’s twenty-first birthday. It’s not like all jocks are friends, or that we hate each other, but Parker and I have classes together and he’s good people. That’s why I’m here, but I’m aware most of my teammates came for the free-flowing booze and the ridiculous number of women who’ve converged.
It all looks exactly like I was expecting, except there’s a girl in Parker’s arms, which I’m about to rib him about when he kisses her on the forehead, but then I see it’s Savannah. I stop dead, ready to defend her honor or some whipped shit, even if this is the last dude I’d ever think would do something like that, but she leans in and hugs him like he’s her favorite fucking person, then kisses his cheek before she goes off into the house.
I head for the kitchen, because I need a minute to calm down before I can talk to the fucking birthday boy. If she has a thing with Parker, it explains her comments about my room. Why football is her default. How she knew what to do with the door…Fuck.
It does not explain why she let me give her an orgasm the other night, and kissed me like… I don’t even know. It’s not like it’s my business what she does, or that I even want a relationship; I’m super happy with our hanging out and making her come thing. I just know that seeing them together makes me want to punch something.
Preferably Parker.
“You good, Cap?” Owen asks me with a smirk before taking a swig of his beer.
“That was Savannah, right?” Mike confirms.
I think I growl in response before making my way back to the living room, grateful Parker is no longer there. I know my reaction makes no sense. She’s not mine. I basically begged her to let me give her an orgasm – a bet I won, thank you very much – so it’s not like we’re exclusive or that she ever agreed to anything more than that one time. And I can’t handle another person expecting things from and depending on me. Parker is actually a great guy who would treat her right and be awesome for her. But fuck if I don’t want to punch him right now, even on his birthday.
I end up in the garage, which Parker told me they’d set up as an at-home gym when they moved in. I thought it was overkill when the athletic center is less than a fifteen-minute drive, but the football team is huge, so what do I know?
Their size does nothing to discourage my urge to punch things, but I’m not an idiot, or drunk enough to not know better, so I use their punching bag. Cross, jab, uppercut. Trying not to question why it bothers me so much. Reminding myself why I shouldn’t care, even if I obviously do.
I’ve been at it at least fifteen minutes, long enough for my brain to shut down and stop telling me I’m being a possessive caveman over someone that isn’t even mine, when the door opens.
