Chapter 6—Pizza, the Food of Choice

* Riley *

I got home that night, parked the Mercedes in the garage, took Otto for a walk, and got shit-faced. I drank every bottle of beer in the fridge and started on the whiskey until Gage snatched the bottle and hid it. If I’d been sober, I might’ve made sense of his puzzled expression and how my roommates gathered around me shooting meaningful glances at one another. Otto laid his body across my feet and pressed close to my legs, as if he could transfer some of his quiet strength to me.

“You’re done, Ry-man,” Gage said, hands on hips and wearing his best badass quarterback glare. “No woman is worth this.”

They knew?

Oh, yeah, they knew Tiff had shot me down, right out of the sky, leaving my heart to free-fall without a parachute until I burned in and left a small crater.

“I’m going to bed.” I staggered toward the bedroom, Otto on my heels, and fell down in the hallway. I passed out before my head hit the floor.

Hours later, I blinked in agony at the sun streaming though my window. An entire marching band performed inside my head, elevating the pounding to unbearable levels.

Shit, just let me die now.

Still fully clothed, I had no idea how I’d gotten in bed. The guys must’ve carried me, dragged me, something. I couldn’t have made it here by myself. I rarely, if ever, drank to the point where I passed out, but I had last night.

Otto groaned from his spot at the bottom of the bed. He wasn’t a morning dog, and he hated being woken up before eleven. Right now, I knew how he felt.

My stomach, rebelling against my binge several hours earlier, began to roll. I stumbled to the bathroom, sank to my knees in front of the toilet, and heaved. When I was finished, I felt a little better. I struggled to my feet and swayed back and forth. Gripping the counter, I managed to brush my teeth, then staggered back to bed and fell asleep.

Several hours later, I woke again. I felt better, with the exception of the vise squeezing my heart tighter and tighter, but that had nothing to do with my drinking and everything to do with Tiff.

Oh God.

At the thought of Tiff my stomach rolled again, but I managed to fight off the nausea. I glanced at the clock. Two thirty in the afternoon.

I bolted upright and immediately wished I hadn’t as the room spun around me. I fought off the nausea and dizziness and held my throbbing head in my hands. I was a fucking mess. I would never drink like that again.

I’d be late for practice. As if I could practice in the shape I was in.

I swung my feet off the bed and hung my head between my knees until the spinning stopped. My phone beeped next to the nightstand, signaling one text message or several.

Bleary-eyed, I blinked several times and squinted, trying to read the newest message.

Told Coach you had the flu.

Not the way to impress a new coach who’d given me a chance to play backup to the backup quarterback. I’d always wanted to be a QB, but because of my screwed-up home life prior to living with Uncle Coop, I’d never been able to stay on a team long enough to learn the ropes. By the time I moved in with my uncle, I was so far behind, I couldn’t catch up. My high school coach recognized my innate athletic ability and put me at tight end. I did play a little QB throughout high school, but I was never at the level of the starters.

The Tyee Chinooks’ new coach believed in giving everyone a shot at their dream position. I’d been just good enough that he’d seen some talent and allowed me to have a few reps per practice with Gage and our backup, Preston. I hadn’t missed practice once this year so I imagined I’d get a pass, but I hated being an idiot. My mother had been unreliable because of her lifestyle and drug addiction, and I so did not want to be that person.

I’d let Tiff get to me. A girl I hadn’t seen in over three years. A girl who’d never been my girlfriend, despite my attempts otherwise. A girl who wanted nothing to do with me. How the fuck could I be so screwed up over someone who didn’t give a shit about me? Sometimes I was just like my mother, which didn’t sit well with me.

My mind flipped back through the years I’d known Tiff. All the laughter and tears we’d shared. The good and bad. The healing we’d done, or at least I’d done. The very tragedy that bound us together drove us apart, and there wasn’t a chance in hell I could fix it, not without her help.

I was sipping coffee and nursing my headache when Gage and Co. came bursting in the front door a few hours later, pizza boxes and a case of beer in hand. We rarely cooked, and pizza was our food of choice.

Logan and Mason grabbed beers. Mason tossed one to Gage, and the three of them dug in, plopping onto the couch and easy chairs scattered around the room, courtesy of Uncle Coop and Aunt Izzy.

I rubbed my eyes and took another swig of the strong black coffee. My stomach lurched at the aroma of cheese and tomato sauce. I lifted my gaze to Gage, then Logan and Mason. They watched me with a mixture of concern and amusement. None of them spoke.

“Good practice?” I asked, unable to stomach the silence any longer.

Three heads bobbed as they stuffed their face with pizza.

“Was Coach pissed at me?”

“Nah,” said Logan, still chewing. He shot a glance at the other two. Only then did I realize they were keeping something from me.

“I know that look. What’s up?”

Logan and Mason deferred to Gage. We all did. Not only was he the team’s leader, but he was also the leader of our pack.

“A couple things. Preston broke his leg in practice today. He’s out for the season.”

“Well, fuck, as if this season couldn’t get any worse,” I groaned.

“You’re our new backup.” Gage watched me closely, as if probing for weakness. Gage didn’t like weakness. Once he discovered a guy’s Achilles’ heel he went after it like a rabid jackal hot on the trail of a wounded antelope. Otto and I’d watched something similar on Animal Planet last week. The attack had been harsh, but survival of the fittest ruled in nature and in football.

“Don’t worry. I’m not getting hurt. I never miss games from injuries. I’m the man of steel.” Gage flexed both arms to show off his biceps. None of us was impressed.

“Knock on wood,” Mason said, and crossed himself, though I didn’t believe he was Catholic or had ever seen the inside of a church.

“I hope not, because I’m not qualified to start. You said a couple things. What else?”

“Our new neighbors.”

“Yeah, the gay guys. So what about them?”

“Uh, turns out it’s only one gay guy living with two hot chicks.”

“And this affects me how?” I said.

Again, that quick look among the three of them that totally left me out in the cold.

“What’s wrong? You’re acting like it’s something as crappy as Tiff moving in next door.”

The shocked expression on their faces sent a wave of pain right to the center of my already bruised and beaten heart.

“Tiff is living next door? Did you see her?” Someone up there must hate me. I’d never been overly religious, and perhaps this weird twist of fate was payback.

“Yeah, just now.”

“You don’t even know her. How would you know if that’s her?”

“Remember the hot item I was making out with at the party a few weeks ago? She was walking up the sidewalk next door along with a blonde when we pulled up. I said hi, and she introduced her friend. Tiffani Vernon.”

“Oh, fuck.” My stomach might’ve been queasy earlier, but now it was in full rebellion mode. What kind of fresh hell was this? What had I done to deserve such a fate?

“Does she know I’m here?”

“Nah. We never brought it up, but we did mention we’re on the football team.”

I put my head in my hands as the pounding inside my skull increased. She’d told me to go to hell in so many words. Now I had to put up with her living next door?

“Instead of being a coward, why don’t you go after her?” Gage said.

I stiffened and shot him a death glare that would’ve made Uncle Coop proud. “She is so done with me.” Not that she ever started.

“Since when do you give up that easily?” Gage smirked and shoved an entire piece of pizza in his mouth and chewed, his cheeks stuffed.

“Yeah, usually women say one thing and totally mean another,” Mason said.

“I’d go after her. She’s smokin’ hot.” Logan craned his neck to get a better view out the window without being too obvious. He shot a calculating glance my way. “You don’t care, do you, Ry-man? I mean, you don’t seem interested. Maybe I’ll ask her out.”

“Like fuck you will,” I growled without pausing to think.

Logan’s smug smile said it all. He had me. “Then go the fuck after her.”

“I wish I could.”

“Throw her over your shoulder and spank her ass,” Logan said. I shot him an annoyed glare.

“Romance her, my man.” Gage patted me on the shoulder. “You know, flowers, candy, little notes, all that crap that gets their panties wet.”

“Wear her down with persistence, just like you wore Coach down when it came to being the backup QB,” Mason said helpfully.

I rubbed my stubble-roughened chin. These idiots might actually have something. “It could work.”

“Of course it’ll work. Start with flowers and expand on it. You’ve got the bucks. Use ’em.”

I did have the cash. Uncle Coop was overly generous with deposits into my account each month. To date, I’d stashed most of it in savings, but I’d spend every penny I had to win Tiff over.

Gage tossed me the phone. “Call a florist.”

I snatched the phone out of thin air as it went sailing past my head and asked for the nearest florist. A few seconds later I was ordering flowers and paying a hefty charge for a custom bouquet to be delivered the following Tuesday. I’d give her a few days to miss me, and then I’d start my campaign.

These idiots were right—for once: the way to a girl’s heart was through romance.

* Tiff *

The next day, I walked around in a stupor. Still numb from what I’d done, I couldn’t get Riley’s face out of my head. My visions alternated between the horror in his eyes when Jacob pointed the gun at him and his stricken expression when I once again broke his heart.

I was a bitch. I hated myself right then. I hated what I’d done to him, even as I told myself letting him go was the kindest thing I could do for him. He’d move on and forget about me, but I feared I’d never move on from him.

I met Alisa and Wayne for a lecture in the early evening, and we walked back to the house afterward at the same time a car pulled up at our neighbors’. When Alisa saw the three hot guys get out, she wandered over and said hi, one of which was shockingly Gage, her hook-up from the other night.

Alisa and Wayne panted after the hotties long after they’d gone into their house and closed their door. I rolled my eyes. I’d been too busy with classes and my horse to notice the guys next door, but I hadn’t a clue how they’d passed Alisa’s notice over the past two weeks. That girl was losing her touch.

“Seriously, you two. Let’s go inside.”

“What’s the hurry?” Alisa said, bending down to pluck weeds from an overgrown flower garden near the sidewalk. “This needs tidying.”

“Since when are you a gardener?” I asked.

“Since she discovered Gage lives next door, and she’s angling for a repeat performance,” Wayne said. He propped his hands on his hips in his best gay guy pose. The look was so not Wayne, despite the fact that he was gay.

I turned to Alisa, scrutinizing her with the eye of a friend who’d known her for over a decade. “You never do repeat performances.”

“I seldom do them,” Alisa corrected, her eyes glued to the neighbors’ front door. “But for the hot jock with the big cock, I’ll make an exception.”

Both Wayne and I made gagging sounds.

“I’ve heard enough. I’m going inside.” I hurried up the sidewalk with Wayne close behind. Alisa reluctantly followed. Glancing over her shoulder, she stumbled and almost fell on the porch steps. I tried not to laugh. Alisa had always been the heartbreaker. She never had her heart broken. I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on now.

I had more immediate problems than Alisa’s love life. My neighbors played football and obviously would know Riley. There was a chance he might actually visit them on occasion. Just what I needed—to feel as if I had to hide out in my own neighborhood. Home was supposed to be my one safe place. Why did fate pull this crap on me? Of all the places to live near campus, we had to rent a house next door to the team quarterback? If I was lucky—which I usually wasn’t—Gage and Riley couldn’t stand each other and never hung out.

Right.