“Okay, okay,” Tuck said. “I’ve got one.”
This would go down in history as the longest bus ride of my life. Our flight back from Austin had been rerouted to Seattle, after a fourfuckinghour layover in Las Vegas. Something about extreme winds over Denver.
By the time we’d boarded the bus for the last leg of our trip, we’d all been borderline delirious. Half of the guys had passed out cold the second we left Seattle; the rest were engaged in some weird take on “Would You Rather?” Only this version was called “Would You Still Do It?”
Roman flicked his fingers. “Alright,” he said, “let’s hear it.”
“What if there’s a noise in the closet?”
Roman lifted a brow. “Like, when—”
“When you’re about to fuck, yes. What if you hear a noise coming from the closet. Would you still do—”
“Dude, yes. I’m fucking.”
“What if it’s aspookynoise?” Soren asked, drawing out the o’s in a way that would put Casper the Friendly Ghost to shame. It was good to see that some of Clarke’s friendly demeanor had rubbed off on the old sourpuss.
“Then I guess I’m fucking in front of ghosts.”
The guys broke out into laughter, jolting Wes out of his slumber. I, on the other hand, barely managed a meager smile.
I hadn’t heard from Nessa in six days. Nero had been right; she was running. But that was going to end tonight. No matter how late it was or how long it took.
I checked my phone, surprised to see that it was already going on two a.m. Okay, so maybe I would give her until tomorrow.
If she wouldn’t return my calls or texts during business hours, I doubted she would be excited to see my haggard ass on her doorstep in the middle of the night. Best to wait until the morning . . . and show up with coffee and pastries.
A caffeinated Nessa was a happier Nessa.
“Alright, Pinky,” Roman announced. “It’s your turn.”
A melodramatic sigh was my only response.
“C’mon, man,” Diaz goaded. “You’ve been no fun ever since the gala.”
“Yeah,” Matty echoed. “What’s that about? Is Nessa still giving you the cold shoulder?”
“Watch it,” I warned.
Roman laughed. “Dude, just admit it. You’re punching above your weight class with Nessa.”
“Watch. It.”
Nothing else needed to be said; the “touch my girl and die” look in my eyes did the rest. My teammate held his hands up in front of him. “Message received.”
They laid off me after that, which at this point was best for everyone. As Diaz had said, I hadn’t been much fun since the day after the gala. My piss-poor attitude had begun to creep over intomy game, too, and that pissed me off even more. I had broken the cardinal rule and allowed my personal and professional lives to mingle. And that was entirely my fault, not Nessa’s.
Thankfully, we were up two games in the series, which meant we only needed one more win to advance. And now we had the chance to do it on our own turf.
We were only a few more miles out when I felt a heavy body settle into the seat next to me.
“Tissue for your issues?” Soren asked.
My head lolled to the side. “This is all your fault.”
“How’s that?”
“You told me not to swoop. I haven’t heard from her since Sunday morning. I swear I’m one missed call away from showing up at her house with a boom box.”
