-8-
JAY
The foam of my beer was more exciting than the conversation Smitty was trying to have with me. The usual guys I hung out with had bailed, and I would have too, if I wasn’t still trying to get over the weekend. Fuck, I’d been sure Kayla was going to text or call, but it’d been radio silence.
I was stuck with Smitty. He was at least ten years older, and clung to me like a remora to a shark, hitting on any women who came our way.
I’d left a message with Dave on Sunday afternoon asking for Kayla’s number, but remembered afterward he’d already left for his honeymoon. So, I’d come to Biff’s to lick my wounds tonight. The sting of rejection was new and probably good for me, but I hated it. Our kiss against the wall had been short, but hot, and I’d thought there’d be more. I certainly wanted more. She’d gotten my gears grinding in all the right ways, and talking to her had easily been the best conversation I’d had with a girl in years.
I thought we’d clicked.
Instead, I’d spent Saturday night nursing a spoiled eighteen-year-old, who threw up twice in my room. I’d saved him from an epic hangover, and the bastard never thanked me in the morning for any of it.
The universe has a fucked-up way of working, though. I heard the door of the bar slam shut, followed by a woman’s gasp, and . . . there she was.
Why, hello there.
She looked like sex on heels. Her blonde hair was down this time, falling in waves past her shoulders. Kayla wore a silky black shirt over jean shorts, and the top few buttons of her shirt were undone. Casual yet teasing, and it made my dick twitch.
“Kayla?” I was up off my bar stool in a heartbeat.
Her gaze snapped to mine, but her expression didn’t make sense. She looked like she was either in pain or pissed, or maybe both.
“This was a horrible, horrible idea.” Her voice was full of dread.
I strode toward her, but she retreated. Her back slammed against the wooden door with a thump, and she grimaced. I’d forgotten how small she was, and the large doorframe exaggerated her petite size. I’d also forgotten how hot she was. Well, not forgotten. I’d been thinking about her and that kiss a lot. My memory hadn’t done her justice though. I stared at her mouth. Sexy, even as it twisted downward like she’d tasted something bad.
She whirled around and flung her hands against the wood, pushing with force at the door she’d just come through.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Trying to escape hell!”
“What?” What was she doing here, and why was she acting like she wanted to flee? “How come you didn’t text me?”
She gave up on the door, and frustration tightened her voice. “I couldn’t. The number you gave me was wrong, and Dave wouldn’t give me your real one.”
My mouth went slack.
How the hell had I been so stupid? For a split second, I blamed Dave, but that wasn’t fair. He’d been following my orders, after all. It was crazy the hoops some girls would jump through—or guys they’d screw—to get to me. It was fucked up, and I’d made sure my friends knew sharing my info with anyone with tits was totally forbidden.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m glad you didn’t think I was blowing you off.” The grin that spread on my face was unstoppable. “Did you drive all the way here just to get my number?”
She turned to face me. Well, not exactly. Her attention was focused on Biff, and her eyes were wide with horror. That was weird. The stuffed wolverine wasn’t exactly friendly-looking, but it wasn’t that scary, either.
She must have figured out I was waiting on her answer, and her head moved in a slow nod.
“Okay.” I aimed for a playful tone. “You gotta pen?”
There was no reaction from her. She was stiff and tense. Maybe it was because she was the only girl in the bar. Things were definitely looking up now.
“Come on. Let me buy you a beer.” As I headed back toward my drink, I locked eyes with Smitty. My expression hardened as his gaze drifted over to Kayla with interest. Forget it, pal. This girl is all mine.
But was she?
She hadn’t moved. She was frozen to her spot by the door, and I ran a hand through my hair, confused. “You coming?”
“No.”
“You don’t like beer?” I’d really meant it more as an offer of a drink. It could be whatever she wanted, because all I wanted was to put her sexy ass in a chair across from me so we could get reacquainted.
“Are you a student at Michigan?” She phrased it the same way I imagined she’d ask me if I was a recruiter for ISIS.
I paused. “Yeah.”
Why did she look so disappointed?
“I go to Ohio State,” she said.
Oh.
Well, shit.
Part of me was instantly irritated. A gut reaction. This would be a lot easier if she went to another school. Any school instead of OSU. But I decided to ignore the info and gave a half-smile. “You do, huh? That’s cute.” I glanced at Smitty, who occupied the barstool beside mine. “Scoot over.”
Disgust flooded his face. “For a girl who goes to Ohio State?”
Was he fucking kidding? My glare sent him scurrying to the next empty seat. Kayla was a statue by the door. What was going on with her? “What do you want to drink?”
“Nothing. I’m outta here.”
“But you didn’t get my number. Wait, forget that.” I pulled my phone out. “Give me yours. I should have asked for it in the first place.”
Her face went whiter than a visitor’s jersey. “There’s no need. This isn’t going to work.”
Huh. Usually it took a month for a girl to figure that out. My schedule was brutal, and most girls couldn’t deal. “You can tell already?”
“Yeah. You go to Michigan.”
There it was again, her tone of disgust. I felt stupid holding my phone and pocketed it as I struggled with what to say. “Come on,” I forced out. “This is a rivalry thing? That’s stupid.”
Smitty was listening to every word. “You expect her to be smart? She goes to Ohio State.”
Okay, watch it, pal. Not only was I taller and broader, I was guaranteed to be faster. Smitty would hit the floor before he realized I’d knocked the barstool out from under him. I swiveled my head back to her. It wasn’t a lie, at least not in comparison to my teammates. “I don’t care about the rivalry.”
“Yeah?” she fired back. “I do. It’s not stupid. It’s the greatest sports rivalry in history. And for the love of God, can someone please turn that off?” Her raised voice caught everyone’s attention, and we collectively looked up at the TV.
ESPN Classic. I recognized the stadium instantly as the camera hovered over the Big House, and the banner along the bottom announced the game. OSU versus UM at Michigan, 1997.
“We’re about to see Woodson’s awesome pick in Ohio’s end zone.” Smitty’s jerkoff attitude wasn’t helping my situation. “We could rewind to his touchdown from earlier.”
Did he see the same flash of a nuclear mushroom cloud in her eyes that I did? Her voice was steel. “I know I look small, but believe me when I say I could end you.”
He must not have, because he laughed like she was ridiculous. “Whatever.” He jabbed a finger at the girl who was staring him down, and he yelled toward the bartender, “Don’t serve her. She’s a Buckeye.”
I curled my hands into fists. Did my coworker want to get leveled? He’d just alerted a room full of Michigan fans that Kayla was from Ohio State. The enemy, as far as they were concerned. Add in a few drunks and some mob mentality, and things could go sideways quick. “Dude, what the hell?”
Two older men, one with a beer belly covered by a Michigan jersey, and the other with skinny arms hanging from a ‘Go Blue’ t-shirt, were sitting at a table in the back. Fat Jersey Guy set down his beer with a loud thud. “Get outta here, fuckeye.”
“Go back to Columbus, you loser!” Skinny T-shirt Guy chipped in.
Awesome. I clenched my teeth, expecting Kayla to startle and panic. Instead, her eyes narrowed into slits, focusing on the men in the back. Even the skinny one was at least twice her size, and both of them looked mean as hell.
“Ohio State sucks,” Skinny T-shirt continued. “Your quarterback throws like my two-year-old niece, only she’s more accurate.”
“Are you kidding?” Kayla said. “Michigan’s football team is so terrible those guys couldn’t find their own asses if they used both hands. And hired a detective.”
Every pair of eyes in the full bar flicked toward me, watching my reaction, but I didn’t have time. I sensed the bad situation coming at me just like the shadow of a defender over my shoulder. I had to move fast, or I’d find myself at the bottom of a pile.
“Miss,” the bartender said, “you might want to—”
The peanut gallery wasn’t finished laying into Kayla. “You know what the difference is between an Ohio State cheerleader and the Titanic?” Fat Jersey said. “Only a thousand went down on the Titanic.”
Red color splashed across her cheekbones as she shifted on her heels into a defensive position. She straightened her posture, and it was impressive. Instantly she seemed a foot taller. “I’m OSU’s cheerleading captain. Why don’t you come over here and say that again?”
Her menacing stance and hard-edged face was adorable, and almost intimidating. She was small, but I was smart enough to know never to underestimate size. Sometimes the more compact the player, the harder the hit.
When Fat Jersey launched to his unsteady feet, his gaze swung around wildly, and his face was sweaty. I could read the thought in his head. He wasn’t going to get in a fight with a girl, no matter how tough she acted, and his focus eventually landed on me. How loaded was he? I could take him down easily if needed, but that was a last resort. Getting into a fight at a bar? Yeah, that’d be real helpful in the upcoming semester.
He shuffled one step forward, but stopped when he got a good look at my scowl. Fat Jersey had no choice but to yell it at her. “What’re you going to do? Ask me to go outside? I’m not gonna fight a girl, and you’ll probably need directions. I mean, you couldn’t even figure out how to read the word ‘pull’ on the door.”
“You can gargle my buckeyes, loser!” Skinny T-Shirt didn’t want his friend to be the only one slinging the insults, apparently.
I turned to face Kayla. Every muscle in her body was alert and tense, straining against the desire to charge. It was a sensation I was all too familiar with. How many times had some opponent, like Tariq Crawford, gotten in my face and said shit that made my blood boil? How many times had I choked off the urge to retaliate?
“Be specific,” she said with her outdoor voice, “because I can’t tell who you’re talking to. I’m surrounded by losers!”
I didn’t care for that, but the insult was a mosquito bite. One quick, sharp moment, followed by a lingering annoyance I forgot when chairs scraped loudly against the floor. The other patrons, who’d been silent before, came to their feet.
“Screw you, lady!” a male voice rang out behind me. “Harris, is she with you?”
I stalked to Kayla and hooked a hand under her elbow, turning her to face the door. “Time to go.” It came out gruff, so she wouldn’t argue with me.
A different voice chimed in. “Does Coach Weiss know you’re fucking around with a girl from Ohio State?”
I grabbed the handle and yanked so hard, the force sent the door slamming into the wall. Didn’t care. All that mattered was getting us the fuck out of there before things escalated. She looked like she was itching for a fight, but at least she didn’t struggle with me as I tugged her out onto the sidewalk.