“How’s she doing?” Levi asks Jude quietly as they start to announce the winners of the various auction items.
“She’s great,” Jude whispers, smiling. “The baby dropped, so it looks like she swallowed a basketball now. I think it’s adorable, but it makes it uncomfortable for her to sleep. I was Googling it and I guess sometimes a body pillow helps, so I ordered her one.”
I chuckle. They both look over at me. “I’m sorry. I just…I’d love to see the difference in your browser history now compared to like a year ago. I’m betting it’s hysterical. From porn sites to Babies ‘R’ Us.”
My brother laughs and so does Marchie. Jude kind of glares at me. “Unlike you, Baby Casco, I didn’t have to use Google to see naked women. I could just open my front door and invite one in.”
Marchie lets out a juvenile “Burn!”
“Ha. Ha.” I roll my eyes. “I did great in college.”
“Sure ya did, kid.” He pats my shoulder.
“I fucked my English professor’s wife.” It flies from my mouth in a hushed whisper before I can stop it. I mean, it’s true, but why do I feel the need to share it right now? Why am I trying to prove myself to these guys?
They’re all staring at me now with the surprise and awe I was hoping for, but somehow it doesn’t make me feel better. I’ve never sought approval before. I’ve never given a shit what anyone thought of me. This is just a further reminder that I’m not the person I used to be, and I hate it.
“How come you never mentioned this professor’s wife before?” Levi wants to know.
I shrug. “I did, actually. Remember Lilah? The one I went skiing with one spring break?”
“Whoa!” Marchie looks impressed.
My brother’s stubbled jaw drops. “You went skiing with the professor’s wife?”
“They have a ski cabin in Vermont. He stayed in Boston to grade papers,” I explain quickly because I don’t want to talk about this anymore, even though I’m the one who brought it up. “And there wasn’t actually much skiing involved.”
“Little brother has impressive game,” Jude says with a smile. “Which means you’re going to know how to take advantage of the opportunities you’ll get when you join us. Levi never did learn to enjoy the puck-bunny perks.”
“You did it enough for the rest of us,” Levi snarks at his best friend.
Jude grins and nods in agreement, and then he looks over at me. “I sowed a lot of oats, but I couldn’t be happier that chapter is closed. You’ll want it to end one day too, Baby Casco, so enjoy it now while you can.”
I nod. I don’t add that I want to sow my oats with his sister, but man do I ever. We stop talking as the Thunder employee announces the winner of the biggest auction item—that trip to Mexico the businessmen were yammering about. The winner is an old guy wearing an expensive suit. A woman who looks to be in her twenties takes the stage to claim the voucher with him. She looks thrilled. I can’t decide if she’s a trophy wife or a daughter.
“Okay, the night is over and I can go, right, Captain?” Jude asks Levi.
Levi nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”
I follow the guys out, my eyes scanning the room for one last sight of Dixie. All I want to do is stay, find her and flirt with her until I break down her defenses—every last one of them. I’m close. I fucking know it.
Jasper joins us by the door, and as we make our way down the hall to the elevators he immediately starts kissing my brother’s ass, like it’s a job interview. I roll my eyes as I walk behind them. Jesus, Jasper, he’s not the one making the hiring calls.
There’s a large group of guests waiting at the elevator bank, and I can tell, even from a few feet away as we approach, that they’re from the event. If we get in the elevator with them it’ll be like a continuation of the invasive conversations from the event, only this time with no personal space. Yeah, no. I lean in and say to Levi, “I’m going to hit the restroom. I’ll see you in the lobby.”
He nods but he’s got this look in his eye I’ve only started seeing recently, and I don’t like it. It’s concern. Levi is a serious dude. He was born that way, it’s how he’s wired. He’s quiet to a disturbing level. He’s calculated and risk-averse and loathes extreme anything, be it sports, music or emotions. But this look…the way his eyes soften but his brow pinches and his jaw stays hard, it’s new and I really hate it. It’s sympathy or guilt or concern or a mix of all those things I never want anyone to feel over me.
I turn away from it, and him, and decide to find a bathroom not near the elevators or the bar so I don’t run into anyone and start an accidental conversation. I pass the ones Dixie came out of earlier and turn left, down an even longer hallway. I see the brass signs the hotel uses to indicate restrooms hanging way at the end of the hall near the doors that lead to the hotel gym. I keep my eyes glued to it to avoid eye contact with anyone and, more than anything, to avoid seeing someone staring at my scar again. That’s happened enough tonight.
I swing open the door and am happy to find the space empty. It’s a small restroom with only two urinals and two stalls with bamboo doors. I use the urinal and then wash my hands slowly at the sink, my own eyes staring at the scar just above my shirt collar. I honestly can’t decide if the sort-of beard I’ve been keeping actually helps to hide it or just makes it stand out more. Most days it seems to hide it, but next to the crisp white of my dress shirt and in the shitastic fluorescent lighting in this restroom it feels like it’s more apparent than ever. I have this fleeting but intense moment of wanting to punch the mirror and shatter my reflection into a million jagged pieces. The urge has me gripping the sink until my knuckles are white as I take a deep breath to gain control.
The door swings open and two sharp clicks rebound through the tiny space as high heels make contact with the tile floor. I turn at the sight of her wheat-colored hair in the mirror and face her, trying to pull a smile over my face to cover the shock I’m feeling. Sweet Dixie just followed me into the bathroom? Plot twist.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Is this the men’s room?” The look of horror on her face is adorable because it’s in complete contrast with the flat, calm tone of her voice that says she knows exactly where she is.
“It is, but you know, I don’t mind sharing,” I reply, grabbing a paper towel and slowly wiping my hands with it.
She doesn’t respond, just stands there and sinks her teeth into that full bottom lip. It’s cute because she seems a little nervous. Either that or her bottom lip just tastes delicious. I hope to find out soon. I take a step away from the sink, toward her. “Dixie?”
