“You slept with him?” Mack‘s mouth hung open, a bit of salsa on the side of her face. “Luca Monroe. The guy we thought hated you?”
My face heated as I nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Wow.”
“It was…unreal.” I blew out a long breath, fanning myself with my hand. It was Friday night, and while I had seen Mack every day, I couldn’t quite tell her. Maybe it was easier now because the guys were at their game, off campus and away from overhearing?
“Why the fuck did you not tell me immediately? What’s the point of our friendship then, ma’am? This is top-tier shit.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin, her posture straight. Where I was messy and loud, she was clean and respectful. Unless she had a few drinks. Two Modelo Mack was fun.
I stared her down, the words almost spilling out. Oh, like you don’t share your massive crush on my brother? I wouldn’t do that to her. Instead, I sipped my water and went with the truth. “I thought I’d be over it, and it’d be no big deal. Something to share anecdotally.”
“But that’s not the case?”
“Nope. Not at all.” My face flushed, and the uncomfortable pang grew in my chest. It was strange to know I was setting myself up for heartbreak, again, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Not until I moved out of that damn house and stopped smelling him or seeing him or hearing his voice or watching his muscles ripple under his shirt. Hm, that was a great point. I should be looking for places to move into. I made a mental note to research apartments the next morning. “We both can’t get involved with each other and agreed it’d be a one-night thing, but Mackenzie, it was wild.”
Amusement danced on her face. “Better than Eric?”
I about spat out my drink. “Different universe than Eric.”
“Atta girl. Proud of you.” She held up her vitamin water and cheered my bottle. “How daring of you, Lorelei Romano. Having a filthy, sexy one-night stand was something we aspired to do freshman year.”
“Oh, god, we had that dumb list, didn’t we?” Groaning, I pictured one drunken night and a lot of promises. “Didn’t I dance on a bar or something?”
“Sure did. Where I wanted to streak on campus and kiss three strangers in one night.” Mack laughed, pink covering her cheeks. “Maybe not three, but the thought of kissing someone in a crowded room, not knowing their name seems fun.”
I nodded, just because that did not sound as appealing as it would’ve pre-Luca. This was new territory for me; caring about someone when I knew I shouldn’t and refusing to cut off all communication with him because he needed a buddy. Yes, the team was great, and my brother would give Luca the shirt off his back, but emotionally? Nah, there was no way they realized how much Luca carried around with him, the worry always lurking underneath his massive shoulders.
It didn’t matter how many times he looked at me like I hung the moon, he couldn’t afford the distraction, and I couldn’t afford the pain.
Mack scrolled her phone as I finished my dinner, her knee bouncing up and down and causing the table to rock. “Mack Attack, what’s going on?”
“We should go out.” She set her phone down, a frown line between her eyes. “Let’s hit up the bars, dance, kiss strangers.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to read her. “I thought we were going to watch the game?”
“Yes, but let’s go out and watch. Meet people, flirt.”
I did have a nervous energy all day, the thought of going back to the house alone unsettling me. Mack agreed she’d come too, but it was just so damn empty without the guys there. Plus, if they played well, they’d be partying it up all night, and I knew Luca would let loose.
Did I wish he would let loose here? With me? Yes. My god yes. But it wouldn’t happen, and thinking about him hooking up made my stomach twist. He did get jealous though…. No. Not helpful. We couldn’t be jealous of others when we were nothing.
“I’m in. Let’s do it.”
We texted Alejandra and GraceLynn, who reached out to Alicia and Gloria, and soon enough, ten girls from the team showed up at the football house to get ready and shit. My brother was gonna kill me.
Thirty minutes turned into an hour, then another. I was three drinks in, and we glammified the place. It smelled like perfume and hairspray, and makeup lined the bathroom countertops. Music blasted from someone’s portable speaker, and damn this is fun.
“Why don’t we have a soccer house?” I shouted.
Everyone cheered, and a lazy smile overtook my face. This was the life. The girls and I hanging out. Sure, the guys would be furious at me, but they were away doing football shit, so I could do my team shit. I’d have to clean like hell in the morning, but Mack would help me. I’d force her since this was her idea.
“It’s already game time! We should go!” Mack yelled, pausing the music. “The Lazy Palm is like, a whole mile. We can’t be late!
By some miracle, I got everyone out of the damn house and locked the door. I triple-checked to make sure every hair product was unplugged and took pictures of them. I knew, even in my tipsy state, I would forget that I did things right. Look at me being smart.
I took a selfie of the front door with the key in my hand and stuck out my tongue.
“What are you doing?” Ale asked, her dark black hair twisted into two buns. She was so cool. I loved her. She also cursed in Spanish all the time, and it was sexy.
“Reminding myself I locked the door.” I zipped the key in my small bag, and boom, I was ready to watch the game and cheer for the guys.
“Smart.” She looped her arm through mine. “It’s amazing you live in the football house. Are they shirtless and sweaty?”
“Oh, I want the deets.” GraceLynn went on my other side. “They are so hot it’s unfair. Callum. Dean. Luca. God, that man is fine.”
“Oh damn. Oliver is a bit too much for me, but that boy is fine too.” Ale put a hand on her forehead, being dramatic as hell.
“Who has the best chest?” GraceLynn asked. “Please say Callum. I love him.”
“Luca.” I didn’t miss a beat. His pecs and muscles near his neck were chef’s kiss. Plus, I knew if I licked that area, he’d jerk in response and release a deep growl. “Luca has the best chest.”
“Makes sense. He’s thickest. Real meaty.” Ale said, making me howl in laughter. “I gotta say Dean is my flavor though.”
“You like Dean?” Mack asked, turning all the way from her spot in front of us and eyeing Ale, her cheek twitching.
Ale laughed. “I mean, no offense to Lorelei here, but I like the swagger of him, yeah. His ass is nice, and his arms are thick enough to bite. If he needed an outlet some night, you send him my way, Lo. You got it?”
“End of this discussion forever.” I gagged, making a real scene of it. “Y’all are buying me my first drink. I earned it.”
We laughed and yelled as we walked into the sports bar near the party street on campus. There were already a lot of people there watching the game, but we looked great. The baseball team was there and invited us in with open arms. Obviously, I did a quick scan of the group, no familiar face of Eric in sight, and I relaxed.
Spending the night anywhere near him was the last thing I wanted. And a flicker of unease crept in at the notiong of getting photographed with him. Not that it mattered, but it made me feel guilty for reasons that didn’t make sense. I owed no one a damn thing!
“Loooooo!” A cheery voice pulled me from my thoughts. Cooper Birmingham, one of the pitchers, pulled me into a hug. “It’s amazing to see you, girl.”
“You too.” I squeezed him back, my stomach hollowing out in embarrassment. It was strange to be around him again after not seeing him for months. I’d hung with him and Eric all the time—like, four times a week, and when Eric did what he did, I lost his friendship. Did he think I was pathetic? Or did he feel bad for me?
I hated that I cared.
“It’s been a minute, but let me tell you, Eric is a dumbass.” He cupped my chin, his face serious. “I’m sorry it ended the way it did.”
“Thanks, Cooper.”
“Now, come sit. We can share school spirit.” He put an arm around my shoulders, and we walked toward the large booth for ten people. Ale and Mack sat too, sandwiched between other players.
College athletes were a different breed. They were the only other group of people who understood the dedication, the energy, the sacrifices it took to be a D1 athlete. Hanging with them was easier. Cooper poured me a beer from one of their pitchers, and I let myself relax. I needed the liquid courage to watch Luca play and not worry about him.
The game started with a bang, our team running the ball all the way for a touchdown. The bar exploded in cheers, beer was spilled, and man, my blood was pumping. My brain had a booze fog, and by the third quarter, I convinced myself I wasn’t falling for Luca Monroe.
Watching him play was intoxicating in a way beer wasn’t. The 88 on his jersey was easy to spot with his length and thickness. Him being a tight end just made sense. He had a mean streak and played the O linemen and receiver positions well. He was a utility player, excelled at what the team needed from him. He commanded the field, or maybe that was my crush sneaking out. I loved someone who dominated their field. It didn’t matter if it was cards or golf or painting for a sport. When people put the time and energy into something, it was sexy.
“Scoot in, scoot in!” a dude yelled. I laid my head on someone’s shoulder, smiling and closing my eyes as someone snapped a pic. I wore the jersey I bought freshman year. I didn’t care whose number it was, just didn’t want it being my brother’s.
But now, I realized it was Oliver’s. How fun! I took a selfie with the number and sent it to the roommate chat.
Lo: Just realized the jersey I’ve had since freshmen year was yours! Go Ollie!
Content with the text, I pocketed my phone and watched the rest of the game. We won, by a lot, dominating our rival, and damn, Luca played the game of his life.
Pride filled me like a helium balloon for a kid’s birthday party. I beamed at the TV, tired and tipsy and happy. This was how I’d envisioned life in college. Doing shit with my teammates, living life to the fullest, and supporting a vision. That was the thing about me that drove my family nuts. I loved being a part of something bigger than myself. Being on a team—we had a mission to win a championship. All athletes were here to bring pride to ourselves and our school.
Luca understood.
In my sloppy haze, I fumbled with my phone, desperate to tell him how proud I was. He had to hear it! From someone!
Lo: I’m prude of yot. You playhed so erll.
My phone buzzed, and I yelped.
Luca calling.
Shit. They just won the game. How was he calling me? An accident, maybe?
I stared, confused as to why he’d call that I forgot to answer. Oops! I giggled, just as he tried again, and I picked up, determined to not forget. “Hello there, champion.”
“Are you drunk?” he asked, no hello or anything.
Music blared around us, and people shouted. I tried moving past Cooper, but he was mid-convo arguing about the best cereal. “It’s Reese’s Puffs, idiots,” I said, nudging him. “Hey Coop, can I get by you?”
“Sure thing, Lo.” He picked me up by my hips and set me down, not even glancing at me before arguing with Ale about breakfast foods.
What a hoot.
“Lorelei, where the fuck are you?”
“At a bar. With my friends.” I ducked through the crowd until I went to the patio. “Luca Monroe, how are you calling me? You just won! Dare I say played the greatest game of your life?”
“Who are you with?”
“Good sir, let’s talk football. Shouldn’t that be the sexiest thing ever?” I giggled and twirled my hair like an idiot with an ill-timed crush. His irritated voice was raspy and rough and then it hit me. “Why are you angry? Did you get hurt? Oh, Luca.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I mean, I’ve had a few drinks, but Luca, sweetie, why are you yelling at me? Did something happen? I wanted to tell you I’m so proud of you. Watching you tonight was unreal, the way you move and command the field. Dean is lucky to have you on his side, that’s the truth.”
“I—” he paused, the deafening silence like a punch to the gut. “You’re proud of me?”
“Goofily so. Is that a word? Goofily? It sounds goofy. Ha!” I cackled. “How are you calling me right now?”
“I have a phone. It’s this invention—”
“Luca Monroe, you’re doing a joke. I am here for this!” I shouted, laughing again as warmth spread through my veins. “Why did you call me though? You should be doing body shots off a model or streaking through Iowa right now.”
“I hate seeing Oliver’s jersey on you.”
“You called to tell me that,” I deadpanned. “Liar.”
“Is Mack coming over tonight? I don’t want you alone at the house and… truthfully,” he said, sighing. “I was worried about you.”
“Aw, how cute.” I scrunched my nose and twirled in a circle.
“Your text had typos, and your face was red in the photo. It’s clear you’re drunk.”
The warmth cooled and my smile fell. “Ah, so not cute. You called to yell at me.”
“You need to be careful and smart,” he snapped.
“Because I’m not?” Maybe it was my beer-filled mind, but I wasn’t quite sure how this conversation had me switching from smiling and giddy to angry. “Enjoy your night. You deserve to have fun, but I’m not going to do this.”
I hung up, irritated as hell. He could’ve ignored my text entirely and left me on my merry way, but now I was pissed. Careful and smart. I wasn’t some helpless idiot party girl. We had a friend code and never left anywhere alone.
My phone buzzed again, Luca’s name appearing, and I debated not answering it. He didn’t deserve me too, but I did anyway. “What, Luca?”
“I want to renegotiate our deal.”
“Wait…what?”
“You heard me. One night with you wasn’t enough. When I get back, you and I are having another conversation.”
He hung up before I could respond.
