“Well, you might want to snap out of it,” Brad says with a nod toward the bar. “Because you’ve got an admirer who’s definitely checking you out.”
I follow his gaze to see a tall blonde at the bar, watching our table with unmistakable interest. She’s model-gorgeous—long legs and perfect makeup. She’s got the kind of confidence that comes from knowing exactly how good you look. Which isexactlymy typical type.
“Dude.” Nate elbows me. “That’s Vanessa Anders. The model from the swimsuit issue.”
I vaguely recognize her now that he mentions it. She’s been in a few magazines, maybe a commercial or two. As I watch her make her way to our table, she catches my eye and smiles.
“Mind if I join you boys?” Vanessa asks, though it’s not really a question, as she’s already sliding into the booth next to me, forcing the rookies to scramble and make room.
“Not at all,” I say automatically, shifting slightly to give her room to sit. The rookies are practically vibrating with excitement, their eyes ping-ponging between me and Vanessa as if watching a tennis match.
“I saw your game,” she says, flashing her professionally whitened teeth in a smile. Her hand lands on my forearm. “That last goal was incredible. You have amazing ... reflexes.”
The innuendo isn’t subtle, and neither is the way her eyes trail down to my chest and back up. This is familiar territory. The dance we’re supposed to do now is well-choreographed: I compliment her, she laughs; I buy her a drink, she moves closer; we exchange numbers, maybe go out a time or two.
But as she leans in, her perfume overwhelms my senses. Suddenly, all I can think about is how different it is from the subtle scent Cheyenne wears. How Vanessa’s laugh seems practiced compared to Cheyenne’s genuine one. How her eyes, while objectively beautiful, don’t change color in the light the wayCheyenne’s do, shifting from green to gold depending on her mood.
Wait, why am I thinking about Cheyenne right now?
“Dylan?” Vanessa prompts, her smile faltering slightly at my lack of response.
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Long game. I’m still a little ... somewhere else.”
“I could help bring you back to the present,” she offers, her hand now resting on my thigh.
The rookies are watching intently. I should be flattered. I should be interested. This woman is a literal swimsuit model. And she’s clearly into me.
But instead, I find myself imagining what Chey would say if she were here. Probably something sarcastic about Vanessa’s obvious lines. She’d joke about how she can practically see the rookies’ tongues wagging. She’d definitely make me laugh a real laugh, not the forced chuckle I’m doing now at whatever Vanessa just said.
I didn’t even hear what Vanessa just said.
This is getting weird.
“Actually,” I say, draining the last of my beer before setting the glass down, “I should probably get going. Early practice tomorrow.”
There’s a collective intake of breath from the rookies.
Vanessa’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise in surprise. “It’s only ten o’clock,” she points out.
“Professional athlete.” I shrug, already sliding out of the booth, forcing her to stand. “Early to bed, early to rise, all that.”
“But...” She looks genuinely confused. “Could I at least get your number? Maybe we could meet up another time?”
“I’m pretty slammed right now.” I pull out my wallet and toss some bills on the table to cover everybody’s drinks. “But it was nice meeting you, Vanessa.”
I can feel the rookies’ dumbfounded stares boring into me as I make my exit.
I don’t blame them. I’m pretty confused myself.
The night air is sharp and cold as I push through the bar’s doors, filling my lungs with it in an attempt to clear my head.
What just happened? Since when do I turn down gorgeous women who are practically throwing themselves at me?
Since Cheyenne.
No. That’s ridiculous. Cheyenne is Genna’s best friend. She’s been part of our family since we were teenagers. She just got out of a relationship a week and a half ago. She’s vulnerable. She’s off-limits for a thousand reasons.
And yet, as I slide behind the wheel of my truck, I can’t deny that something has shifted. I sit in the parking lot, engine running but not yet in drive, trying to make sense of these foreign feelings.
