“Hey, dumbass. Can I talk to you?” Harlow taps me on the arm.

“Yeah sure. Ladies, if you’ll excuse me,” I flash a smile at the group.

Harlow’s fingers close around my bicep, nails digging in as she storms off, tugging me along. We navigate through the groups of conversing people, her hold on me not loosening. I grin down at the top of her head as she angrily marches on. She’s tiny, only half my size, but tougher than she appears.

Once we’re safely inside my bedroom she slams the door shut, whirling on me like a tornado switching direction. “What’s your problem?” Her hands go to her hips, a fierce scowl pinching her brow.

“What are you referring to?” I have no idea where this is coming from.

“Did you forget that you have a girlfriend?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you know where your girlfriend is?” She stalks two steps closer.

“Yeah, she’s here somewhere.”

“Um, no she’s not, dumbass. She went home, and do you know why?”

“No.” Shaking my head, I listen intently.

“Between your sister’s rude treatment and your fan club falling all over you, are you honestly surprised she left?”

“Shit.” My lids lower for a second, shuttering the flare of emotion in my eyes. I am a dumbass.

She whacks me on the chest with the back of her hand. “Yep, shit. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know. What should I do?” I’m new to being in a relationship and I want to make sure I’m doing what’s best.

“The first thing you need to do is to go over to her place and straighten this mess out before it snowballs. Once you work things out with Carter, you’d better set your sister straight. She isn’t nice, and your family just pats her entitled head, allowing it.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Hey, she’s not that bad.”

“Yes, she is. I never told you how she deliberately dumped a drink on me at a frat party when Brady and I were first together. She made sure to warn me that he didn’t like nice girls like me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My brows dip down in the middle.

“Because she’s your sister and we had only just met.” Her wide, gray eyes are solemn in her fair skinned face.

“Yeah, but why haven’t you since then?” My brows press together creating a painful tension in my forehead. “We’ve been friends for a long time now.”

“Tabby isn’t a factor in my life and I’ve never seen her do anything that would be hurtful to you; until now. She was in Carter’s ear while you were busy with all your castoffs and admirers.” Waving her arms wildly, she gestures to make her point. “I can only imagine what bullshit Tabby spoon fed her and Carter is insecure enough to swallow her lies.”

“I’m sorry about my sister. I’ll have a talk with her.”

“Nick, you need to reign her in and don’t be gentle about it. She needs to learn that it’s not okay to screw with people’s relationships.”

“I’m going over to Carter’s now. I can’t believe she left,” I spit out, bitterly.

“Whoa dude, you need to slow your roll. What if the situation were reversed and she was talking to Joseph instead of paying attention to you? Would that be okay?”

“Fuck no; not at all.” Briefly pressing the heels of my palms into my eye sockets; I’m frustrated and feeling helpless. “I understand the point you’re making. I wasn’t flirting with those girls. I was just being myself.”

“I know that, but Carter doesn’t. Maybe next time you should be a little less of your charming self.” She winks. “Go get your girl, dumbass.” She pokes my side as I pass and hurriedly open my bedroom door. Pivoting around as I clear the doorjamb, I settle a wounded expression on my face.

“Harlow, name calling is hurtful. You need to be more careful with my feelings. I’m a sensitive guy.”

Her sputter of disbelief follows me down the hallway. I juke in and out of partygoers as if I’m on the football field trying to bulldoze my way into the end zone instead of out my front door.

I’m across the hall and knocking on Carter’s door before I’ve worked out what I need to say. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I rap my knuckles on the wood. “Carter.” Shouting her name, ear pressed close, I listen for signs of movement on the other side of the door. The dull thrum of the bass coming from my apartment makes it tough to hear. “Carter, let me in.” My tone is louder and deeper as I pound the wood. She’s not going to answer.

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I type out a quick text.

Me: Carter, please let me in. I need to apologize in person for being an ass.

Carter: I don’t feel well and I’m in bed. Talk tomorrow.

Why do I get the picture that she’s pretending to be sick to avoid me? But if I keep pounding on her door, it’s not going to help the situation any.

Me: I know you’re mad, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep. I love you.

Carter: Night

Shit. This isn’t good.

Pacing back and forth like a caged animal, a combination of anger and frustration hums through my veins. Carter won’t let me in and she’s giving me the brush off in a text. I’m fucked and there’s no one to blame, but myself. I can already feel her slipping away. My chest heaves raggedly with each inhale of air as my temper escalates. Clenching and unclenching my hands, I fight the urge to put my fist through the smooth white wall.

“Nick,” Brady’s deep voice comes from behind me.

I pause my frenzied pacing and turn to face him. I’m sure he can see the tumult of emotions I’m experiencing; not to mention my gritted teeth and uneven breathing. I look completely unhinged.

“Harlow told me what happened.” He shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Awkward silence falls between us while I wait for him to continue, but he struggles to find the words. He rakes a hand through his hair, in frustration. “Let’s get some fresh air.” He gestures to the main entrance with his blonde head.

“Yeah, I could use some,” I agree, knowing that if I remain inside I’ll do something I’ll regret. I don’t want to give Carter any more ammunition.

“Where are you guys sneaking off to?” Zeke calls out as he closes our apartment door behind him.

“We’re getting some fresh air,” Brady answers while my feet rapidly move toward the exit. I can hear the soles of their sneakers squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor behind me as I step outside. I greedily pull the humid night air into my tight lungs like a drowning man drawing in his first breath after surfacing.

“Let’s walk to C’s Pub and grab a beer,” Zeke suggests.

“I’m game if you are,” Brady replies.

“Why not?” My reply is a hoarse croak. No one comments and the three of us head down the sidewalk. Rolling my shoulders forward, I shove my hands in the pockets of my cargo shorts. The typical sounds of the city at night wrap around us like an invisible cloak. The smell of cigarettes and marijuana waft over, teasing our noses.

“When was the last time you got high?” Zeke questions.

Brady laughs. “Dude, I can’t even remember, it’s been so long.”

“Last week, with your brother,” I inform.

“Trevor smokes weed?” Brady looks surprised.

“Yeah, daily. How do you not know this?”

“Where was I when you guys were having all the fun?” Zeke inquires.

“I believe you were working late.”

“I can’t believe Trevor smokes.” Brady shakes his head with disgust.

“What’s the big deal? It’s legal here.” I shrug, hands still secured in my front pockets.

“I don’t know. He’s my little brother. I don’t want to think of him growing up.”

“He’s a sophomore in college. Do you think he’s a virgin too?” I arch a brow, skimming a glance Brady’s way. “He’s got a different girl in his room at least twice a week and I don’t think they’re playing Monopoly in there.”

“No, of course not. I know he’s not innocent, but it’s hard to believe he’s in college. I’m a little jealous he gets to live with you guys. You’re my boys; not his.”

“Aw, do you miss us?” Zeke asks with a smirk.

“Not at all,” Brady deadpans.

“How’s married life?” I throw out the question.

“We’re not married yet.” He grins, aware that Harlow’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I know, but you might as well be. You guys act like an old married couple,” Zeke inserts, gripping the door handle to C’s Pub. Strolling inside, I follow with Brady bringing up the rear.

Finding an available table at the back of the bar, we settle on the stools and order what’s on tap from the waitress.

Conversation resumes once she’s placed our frosted glasses down in front of us and has wandered over to the next customers.

“What’s going on with you, man?” Zeke queries, studying me.

“Carter saw me talking with Samantha and some of her sorority sisters and got upset.”

“I don’t want to stick my nose in,” Brady begins with a smirk, “but Harlow mentioned that Tabby was the real problem.”

Dragging a finger through the condensation on the outside of my glass, I hesitate to answer. What can I say? Nothing is going to change the outcome of tonight. I’d rather just put it out of my mind and deal with the fallout tomorrow. Besides, I’ve finally cooled down and discussing it will only get me fired up all over again. “Can we not talk about it? Let’s just hang out like always.”

“Sounds good to me,” Zeke bumps his fist against mine.

“Brady, how do you like the radio gig?” I’m curious if he has regrets about not playing ball anymore.

“Dude, it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever done. I made a solid choice when I took that job.”

I guess that answers my question.

“Did you figure out what you’re going to do next year?” He turns the tables on me.

“I’m not playing ball, I know that. I’ll probably get an internship somewhere.”

“Why wouldn’t you go work for your dad?” Brady enquires.

“I might.” Raising the glass to my lips, I swallow down a large gulp of the draft beer. “I’m not sure he’ll want me to work for him unless I continue to play. He’s pressing me to go pro and I’ve told him I have no interest.”

“Fathers tend to pressure their sons. I’ve dealt with it myself. It’s good you’ve been honest with him, even if he’s not ready to accept what you’ve decided.” Brady’s no stranger to fraternal pressure. His father played for the NFL and had high expectations for his son to continue his legacy.

“I figure it’s bound to sink in once I’m not playing anymore. Hello reality check,” I joke, raising my glass in a silent toast.

“Ouch, poor dad,” Zeke jokes.

I scowl. “Fuck that. It’s his fault he’s such a stubborn ass.”

“My dad still wants me to go into television broadcasting, but at least he gave up on his dream of me playing ball. I explained to him that my current job is a stepping stone to bigger things, but he doesn’t seem to get it.” Brady sips on his beer, licking the froth from his lips, before continuing. “Our dads need a twelve-step program for letting go of control.”

“You got that right.” I tip my glass in his direction.

“Zeke, what’s new with you?” Brady questions.

“I’ve been working crazy hours and I recently got asked if I’d be the offensive line coach for a semi-pro football team.”

“That’s awesome.” Brady holds his hand up for Zeke to high five. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m thinking of accepting the job. It would mean working a few nights a week and some weekends, but what else do I have to do?”

“It could lead to other opportunities,” I add.

“I’m focusing on work right now and building my future. I wasted too much time with Claire and I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out,” Brady mentions.

I smirk as I mull over their words.

“What’s going on in that warped brain of yours?” Zeke questions.

“We can map out our futures and try to do what’s right until we’re blue in the face. All it takes to blow those carefully laid plans out of the water is one glance at the right woman.”

“Fucking truth,” Brady replies and Zeke nods his agreement.