CHAPTER 12

Sawyer

 

Ready?

He had to be kidding me. I wanted to bolt out the door the minute he took his shirt off. I pulled out my phone as a distraction, afraid if I didn’t do something I’d end up running my fingers along all of his golden skin on display. The muscles in his back were more defined than they’d been in high school. Even more tempting for me. My eyes strayed from my phone. I knew I was staring and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop. At least until he’d turned. I quickly glanced down at my screen to keep from being caught.

Ready?

My ass needed to get out of there. I could feel the hard-on pulsing in my jeans, begging to get free. One look at his bare back and the blood started to flow from my head to my groin.

I jumped from the chair as if my ass were on fire.

“Yep. Let’s go.” I practically ripped the door off the hinges in my haste to get it open.

I stalked past Reagan’s roommate. Asshole was an understatement for that guy. What a judgmental dick. At least he could be my saving grace if Reagan called me out for my weird behavior. I’d blame it on the guy’s shitty attitude when we arrived. Once I made it into the hallway, I reached down and adjusted my dick. I didn’t need him to see it and wonder where it came from.

He pressed the button on the elevator. “Where are the seats?”

“Fifty-yard line.”

I almost groaned when the doors slid shut behind us. On the ride up, I’d been focused on his roommate and hadn’t paid any attention to the scent of sandalwood that surrounded him. Now? Now, it was all I could think about. It wrapped around me, making me dizzy and stealing my breath. Nothing in the world would ever smell as enticing as Reagan. A combination of something distinctly him and sandalwood. Only a few floors. I held my breath, hoping like hell I didn’t pass out before we reached the bottom.

Reagan went on and on about the seats. How unless he was playing, he’d never been that close to the field. All the while, I tried to clear my mind and calm my senses. How the hell were we supposed to be friends when my mind constantly strayed to the what-ifs? After weeks of spending time together, I thought it would get easier. I’d managed to do it through most of high school. The difference now was I had more confidence in myself. I understood myself and who I was. I spent most of time in high school trying to figure that out.

Now I knew what I wanted and what I couldn’t have.

The doors opened and I sucked in a breath. His scent lingered until we stepped outside. The fresh air cleared my head and I was able to think again.

“Cole got them for me. Pays to be one of the coaches.”

“Definitely a perk.” He winked and walked around the front of his car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

We climbed in and I couldn’t help but notice the sideways glances he shot me every once in a while on the drive over. I kept my eyes straight forward, focused on the road ahead, knowing how much my face would give away if I looked at him. We made our way toward the entrance gate and I couldn’t help but notice the long, powerful strides Reagan made with each step. Or the way his jeans clung to every curve of his ass. Get a grip. I handed Reagan his ticket.

“Did you play all through college?” I asked.

“All four years.” We scanned our tickets at the gate. “Which reminds me I keep forgetting to ask. Did you miss not playing baseball?”

Thank fuck. Something to focus on besides Reagan.

“A little, but not enough to give up music.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine. Did you guys think you’d ever end up where you are?”

I pulled the baseball cap low. Not that I expected any problems, but better safe than sorry. “Not exactly. No one really noticed us at first. Not until Mari started singing with us.”

His step faltered. “You told me Jackson was the lead singer?”

“Yep.”

“Did he mind giving it up?”

“I think he did a little, but he knew we’d be more successful with Mari in the lead.”

We made our way down to our seats. I’d never been down there before. Honestly, I’d never asked Cole to get me down there before. To Reagan I passed it off as if Cole had just given me the tickets. When in reality, I asked him to get them. I knew Reagan would love seeing a game and I wanted to be the one to take him. Cole had been more than happy to help me out. Once he understood that Mari and I would only ever be friends, our own friendship grew.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. The awe on his face told me I’d made the right decision. “These are perfect.”

We sat down, waiting for the team to emerge from the tunnel. At least that was what Reagan was doing. I’d taken the seat to his right, which gave me a clear view of his strong jaw and chiseled profile, all under the guise of waiting for the team. His cheekbones had grown more defined over the years. Watching him, I realized how different we truly were. When his roommate called me a thug, while I found it offensive, I understood how a close-minded individual like him would believe that. Gauges in both ears, tattoos running along both arms, in an old T-shirt and ripped jeans. If only he’d known about the nipple piercings under my shirt. Reagan, on the other hand, was the definition of clean-cut sophistication. He always had been. Dark denim that hugged the muscular thighs beneath. Short, styled dark hair. Even in a Hayward T-shirt and jeans, he looked every bit of the lawyer he was.

It just proved how looks truly meant nothing. Reagan and I may look like polar opposites, but our personalities couldn’t be more alike. I loved watching sports as much as he did. We had the same taste in music and movies. The perfect match in all ways but one.

The team finally emerged from the tunnel, stealing my ability to watch Reagan unnoticed. The minute Cole hit the fifty-yard line, he caught my gaze and gestured to the seats. I gave a thumbs-up and a smile. I owed him one. Although I had a feeling he’d take a referee when Mari got all fired up about something. Not that it hadn’t been a role I’d played in the past.

The game felt more like a roller coaster ride than football, neither team keeping the lead for long periods of time. We yelled and screamed each time Hayward scored, getting frustrated each time the opposing team did. There was thirty seconds left on the clock and Hayward was down by three. The offensive line rotated and we waited. The throw from the quarterback went barreling toward the end zone. I think the entire stadium held a collective breath as we watched to see if the wide receiver would come down with it. His fingers skimmed the ball and by some miracle he was able to get a grip on it and pull it down, landing inside the end zone.

The stadium erupted in cheers and shouts as the buzzer sounded. Backs were slapped, high fives given. Suddenly, I felt myself wrapped up in Reagan’s arms. Excitement had overtaken everyone. For years, it hadn’t been odd for us to cheer and share a quick hug when our team won. Things were different now. He didn’t, but I sure as hell noticed the way his firm body felt against mine. Trying not to show the awkwardness that crept through me, I patted him on the back, keeping my hips away from his. When he finally let go I breathed a sigh of relief. My dick was hard as steel. There’d be no way to hide that from him if our lower bodies touched. The energy in the place faded slightly as the people began to make their way up the stairs to the exit.

“Damn,” Reagan said as we reached the landing. “I’m not sure I can sleep for a while after that game. Wanna grab a beer?”

“I thought you had work to do for Monday?”

He gave my shoulder a quick shove. “I do, but I don’t think a couple of beers is going to make me forget everything. Plus, I have all day Sunday, unless you have plans to drag me somewhere else.”

“Oh, so I dragged you here. I’ll remember that next time Cole has seats to give away.”

“You can drag me to a game anytime you want.”

If only I could drag him anywhere. “I see you’re using me for what you can get out of me.”

This time a light punch landed on my arm. “And what would that be?”

So many answers sat there on the tip of my tongue, but I held most of them back. “For how much fun I am.”

Reagan rolled his eyes. “You definitely think highly of yourself.”

“Maybe a little,” I joked, trying to hide everything that was going on in my head.

If there was one thing I learned about Reagan over the last few weeks, it was that he could still read me like a book. I made sure to keep more of my emotions locked up tight.

“How about Solitude?” he asked.

“Sounds good,” I said absently, my focus still on keeping my emotions locked up tight.

I didn’t really pay attention to where we were going until Reagan pulled into the parking garage. I’d been so focused on all the things in my head, I hadn’t been listening when he suggested this place.

“Solitude? I thought you wanted a beer.”

“Nothing wrong with a beer and music.” He nodded toward the door.

Music happened to be an understatement. Solitude would be full of gyrating bodies as they danced to whatever band played that night. It reminded me a lot of the places where we started. Not exactly a club, but there definitely would be people dancing. My heart leapt into my throat. Has he figured it out? Solitude happened to be known as a place where anyone was welcome. It didn’t matter if you wanted to dance with men, women or both. No one discriminated there.

“Why Solitude?” I asked in what I hoped sounded like a conversational tone.

“They have local beers on tap I can’t get anywhere else.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and my footsteps lightened as I followed him inside. The speakers still played while the band set up their equipment. Hopefully, we’d sit and drink without any trips to the dance floor. I had no desire to play the avoidance game with the women in the bar. After we flagged someone down and ordered, Reagan turned to me.

“Thanks for thinking of me when you got the tickets.”

If only he knew I thought about him all the time. “Who else would I go with?”

He lifted the pint glass to his lips. “I’m not the only friend you have.” I couldn’t help but notice the way he stared at me over the rim of the glass before taking a drink.

“I see those idiots all the time. It’s you I want to hang out with.” And that was closer to the truth than I’d been willing to admit up to this point.

He nodded, but stared at the glass in his hand for a long moment. “Is it just me who feels like nothing has changed?”

“That’s ’cause it hasn’t. I made a dumb decision all those years ago.” Against my better judgment, I rested my hand on his shoulder. “But I have and will always consider you my best friend.”

The muscles in his shoulder tightened. He said nothing but glanced at me over his shoulder, a grin on his lips. We sat that way for a few seconds before I pulled my hand away and we both faced forward once again. The TV above our heads caught my attention. It had a replay of the night’s game.

“I still can’t believe Hayward had to fight that hard for the win.”

With his glass in his hand, he pointed to the screen. “That’s ’cause the defensive line was letting number eighty-seven run all over them.”

“I could see Cole getting frustrated.” I chuckled. “At least if they had lost, he could go home and let Mari cheer him up.”

Reagan laughed. “I’m sure she could.”

From there the conversation turned back to the football game. Reagan had theories about what he would have done different with the defense had he been coaching. All was right in the world. At least until I heard it.

“Wow. That’s a lot of sexy sitting in front of me.”

I almost groaned aloud. Turning, I noticed a petite brunette standing there with her hands on her hips, checking us both out from head to toe. Reagan also turned to face her, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes traveled down her body. So much for it being just the two of us for the night. We were so entrenched in our conversation, I hadn’t even heard the band had started playing. Odd. Usually one of the first things I paid attention to. Then again, spending time with Reagan always made everything else around me disappear. If only the same thing happened to him.

“Hey,” I said, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to give her any indication I was interested. I turned back to the bar and my beer.

Reagan didn’t follow suit, his eyes still watching her. “Thanks. I could say the same about you.”

My stomach rolled. I glanced over my shoulder as she stepped closer and ran her finger down the muscles of his bicep.

“Are you from around here?” She peeked at him from beneath her lashes, making sure to arch her back, pushing her breasts into his side.

“I am. What about you?” Reagan took another sip of his drink.

“I grew up around here.” She looked over at me. “What about you?”

“Just moved to town,” I answered, my voice slightly clipped.

Reagan brought his attention to me, his gaze focused on mine. I said nothing and lifted my beer to my lips. What was I supposed to say? Look at me, not her? How the hell could I explain why I wanted his attention?

Reagan glanced back at her. “It was nice to meet you.”

He tried to turn around when her hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. I gripped my glass so hard, I was afraid it might break in my hand. Forcing myself to relax my fingers, I pretended to watch the highlights of the game. Not that I could have told you a single word they said. I was hyper-aware of everything going on next to me.

“Dance with me,” she said, rubbing her thumb across his bicep.

“Maybe another time. My friend and I—”

“Go dance with her,” I interrupted. If he wanted her, who was I to stand in his way?

He shook his head. “No, I’m—”

She beamed and linked her hand with his, her attention on me. “Your friend said he doesn’t care, right?”

“Nope, have fun.” I brought the beer to my lips, like I didn’t have a care in the world. My stomach tightened. I clenched my fingers of my free hand into a fist in my lap, to keep me from reaching for Reagan and holding him there with me.

“Great.”

Before Reagan could protest, she had him off the stool, heading to the dance floor. The bartender asked if I wanted another round.

“That and a double of Jack.”

If I was going to have to spend the night watching the two of them grope each other I deserved to get buzzed while doing it. One look at the dance floor and my chest tightened. I threw back the shot, hoping to get drunk enough I didn’t care what Reagan did.

Except for the realization I’d been trying to ignore for weeks. Somehow, Reagan had managed to slip behind my defenses. And just like before, I was falling head over heels in love with Reagan.