Pink
“Babe, will you grab me a Buncha Crunch?”
We all watched as our team captain—our fearless and often fear-inducing leader—squatted down in front of Clarke and rested his hands on her thighs. It took a lot to bring a man like Soren Sinclair to his knees, and not just because he was practically an old man.
“Say please,” he said, playfully taunting her.
I flicked my eyes to Roman in the recliner next to me just as he rolled his eyes and drained the last of his margarita. I couldn’t blame him. Soren and Clarke’s love fest bordered on sickeningly sweet, enough to give some of the guys stomachaches.
Surprisingly, seeing the two of them together made me ache in an altogether different way.
I watched as she leaned forward, tracing a finger down his scruffy cheek. “Pretty please,” she crooned.
“With sugar on top?” he growled before pressing his lips to hers.
Hell, this was better than whatever movie Diaz had picked out.
“For fuck’s sake, get a room!” Roman shouted.
“Yeah! Down in front,” Bennett added, hurling a handful of popcorn at them from two rows back.
“Who decided that girlfriends were allowed at M&M night?” Tuck asked.
Clarke removed her lips from Soren’s face long enough to say, “Dani invited me.”
Dani pointed at me. “Pink invited me.”
All eyes shifted toward me. “Diaz told me to bring something.”
This time, I was the one on the receiving end of hurled popcorn and candy. What a waste of cinema snacks. It was all in good fun, though. Hell, I laughed alongside them even as a green Skittle pelted my cheek.
These guys weren’t just my teammates; they were my friends. We spent almost every waking moment together, on and off the field. M&M night, aka movies and margaritas, was a weekly ritual cooked up by Diaz, our resident movie buff. These days, though, we settled on whenever we could fit them into our schedule.
“You want another one, man?”
I looked over my shoulder to find our accommodating host holding up an empty margarita glass. Whether you enjoyed his movie picks or not, there was no denying that Diaz whipped up one hell of a margarita. Unfortunately, I was pitching tomorrow, which meant no alcohol for me tonight.
“I’m good,” I told him.
The truth was, I had never been much of a drinker. I could put back a couple of beers, maybe a shot or two if the occasion called for it, but I’d take Earl Grey over Don Julio any day of the week.
Booze and blow didn’t exactly have the same appeal when you were raised by an alcoholic cheater.
Clarke squealed, drawing my attention back to her and Soren just as he pulled her into his lap.
“Well, that’s about all the love I can handle on one drink.” Roman stood, excusing himself to the kitchen for a refill. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was genuinely put off by our teammate’s public display of affection or, if like me, he was a little bit jealous.
I wanted somebody to rub my back while feeding me Buncha Crunch. Was that too much to ask?
A petite body far too small to be Roman plopped into his vacated seat. I rolled my head to the side to find my roommate staring back at me over a bowl of popcorn the size of her head.
“Aren’t you going to offer me some of that?”
Her brow furrowed as she chomped down on another kernel. “I’m a small woman, Sir Pink-a-lot. Get your own.”
“By the way,” I said, lowering my voice. “I couldn’t help but notice that you never came home last night.” She froze with another handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth. Dani was great at dishing it out, but turnabout was fair play. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“Nope.” Her lips popped the “p.”
