Walking rightpast the girl standing at the check-in counter is easy. She’s all sexy smiles when Memphis swipes his card. I think the fact that he’s made himself off-limits makes him even more desirable than he already was to the female population, and that’s saying something.
We both grab a tray, and she gives me a once-over as well while licking her bottom lip. I’m still in my work clothes—a gray T-shirt that’s damn near threadbare, a pair of jeans, and work boots. I get my own fair share of attention, and when I have my cello between my legs, I can rival my best friend.
Memphis heads over to one of the smaller rooms situated off to the side of the main dining hall and places his tray on a table against the wall. “Oz should be here soon.”
“How was the game?” I drop into the seat. My feet are killing me. I’ve been up since five-thirty this morning.
“Bullshit. They didn’t put him in at all,” Memphis gripes and lowers himself to the seat across from me.
“You two are getting along better though?” I haven’t really talked to them much since last week when they were at each other’s throats.
“Yeah.” He looks around to see if anyone might be listening. “Do you remember me telling you someone ran into me when I was looking for Oz at orientation?”
“Yeah, you mentioned someone smacked your ass and you thought it was Oz.”
“Well, it wasn’t. It was her, Waylynn, the girl from the house.”
“Bold.” I shrug, wondering if that was what made Memphis not like her.
“It was an accident. She ran into me and hid before I could yell at her for it.”
“Is that why you don’t like her?” That seems a bit harsh if he believes it was an accident.
“No, I do like her. That’s part of the problem.” Memphis finally looks at me, and that’s all it takes for me to see right through hisI’m always in controlfront he shows everyone.
“Oh.” It takes me a second to think about what to say next. I know whatever I decide, it will go one of two ways. Memphis will spill his guts, or he will shut down, but I’m thinking it’s going to be the former since he’s the one who brought her up, and he already admitted he likes her. “So why were you so pissed? Don’t tell me it’s because your brother was with her?” Memphis and Oz have been toying with the idea of sharing a woman for a while.
“No.” Memphis takes a slow breath and scoots his chair closer to the table. When he speaks again, his voice is lower. “She lives alone. I got pissed thinking about her inviting someone else over. They could take advantage.”
“Take advantage… You mean try to get in her pants before you could?” I joke.
Memphis glares at me. “Nobody is going to touch her, but yes, she’s too trusting.”
“Shit, no wonder she kicked us out when I called her a cleat chaser.” I snort.
“Yeah, well, that was my fault. She makes me crazy,” he admits, and it’s different than when he says the same thing about Oz making him nuts. “She blocked both of us after we left.”
“Can’t really blame her, can you?” I question.
“No, but I can’t get her out of my head.”
“So go talk to her. I mean, you were a dick, but it’s not unsalvageable.” Selfishly, I’m already thinking about how much she’s going to hate me. She probably won’t want me around after what I said. I could lose my best friends over this.
“I did. She forgave us way too fucking easily, but I didn’t really give her a choice.”
“I’m going to leave the last half of that statement alone and try to figure out why you seem bothered she forgave you. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m really fucking confused.”
“Yes, I wanted her to forgive me, but not some other asshole.” Memphis tugs his phone from his pocket and tosses it up on the table.
Damn, she really is in his head. I hope she doesn’t know what kind of power she has over him right now. I knew someday, someone would come along and knock the immovable Memphis Gravlin on his ass, I just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon or for it to shake my own foundation.
“Well, hopefully that means she will forgive me.”
“She will, she’s too fucking sweet for her own good.” I watch him peer down at his phone as if he’s expecting a text or call. I want to push him for more details, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea because he seems a little raw.
“Is Oz on his way down?” I ask to fill the uncomfortable tension I’m feeling.
“Should be. He showered at the facility.”
