The room is quieter than usual for this time of night. Weirdly enough, it’s making it difficult for me to concentrate. I’ve been conditioned to expect the sound of Alex’s lowered heavy metal, which he claims helps his brain absorb information better. Sitting at Rob’s desk feels foreign. He’s usually here, his broad back in my direct line of sight from where I would typically have all my work sprawled out on his bed.
The words in my Psych textbook blur, black font bleeding into the white background until I have to rub my eyes and try to refocus. My butt aches from too much time spent without moving from this standard-issue dormitory desk chair. Ergonomics really should have a higher importance in college furnishing. How am I supposed to adequately study and complete hours of homework under these conditions?
If this was a movie, now is the time I’d notice the irritating ticking of the clock mounted on the wall, and I’d watch, bleary-eyed, as the hands would seem to move backward.
This isn’t a movie, no one has clocks like that anymore, and I have studying to do.
Dammit.
I miss my boys.
A soft rapping on the door startles me, but I’m so hell bent on avoiding my homework tonight, I don’t realize, until after I’ve unlocked it, that I have no idea who’s waiting for me on the other side.
Bad move, Papageorgiou. You’re supposed to be smarter than this now.
What if it’s the RA for the floor? Will I get in trouble for being in here without the guys? I’ll definitely get in trouble for having a key.
What if it’s one of the other guys from the hall, who isn’t on the football team? They’re traveling for an away game, but there’s still some redshirts left behind. What should I do if it’s someone I don’t know? Sure, they might just want to borrow some deodorant, or…
I cut myself off at the pass. I don’t want to think about the alternative.
Oh my God. It’s the alternative. Of course all the guys on the floor know Rob and Alex are on the road. Why would anyone be knocking on this door?
“Evie, it’s me. Open up.” Mike’s voice carries through the wood, putting the brakes on my escalating panic.
I swing the door open, and sure enough, he’s braced against the frame, the hallway empty except for him.
He raises his eyebrows either because he’s pissed at me for such a rookie mistake, or because he knows how quickly my mind was spiraling into no-woman’s land. His large body pushes me back into the safety of the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
For a few moments, we simply stare at each other. The past few weeks have been hard on everyone, and it seems like normal conversations are bearing the brunt of the burden.
“You don’t have to stay down here alone, you know.” Mike looks around the room. “You could always come hang out upstairs with me.”
I avert my gaze, biting my tongue to keep from spilling to Mike I can smell Rob here even if he’s gone. No one needs to know just how crazy I still am a year later. Mallory already suspects after two nights of me waking up in my closet, but she hasn’t given me a full-blown interrogation…yet.
“You still have team stuff to do during away game weekends,” I respond instead. “I don’t know what your schedule is. Besides, all my stuff is already here.”
Mike looks around the room as if he’s seeing it from a different perspective. “Huh. I guess it is. I never really noticed before. Chelsie never kept any of her stuff in my room…”
He trails off, and the unusual awkwardness that was never between us before reappears. Surprisingly, he tries to break it with a laugh. “I can’t believe Alex hasn’t thrown a shit-fit about pink things in his room.”
I shrug, biting my lip in an effort to control the grin that wants to erupt over my face. “He’s been coerced into submission.”
“What does that mean?”
“When he found out I keep a stash of pads in here, he went ballistic. Rob told him he could either pay tribute to the queen or be exiled from the kingdom.”
Mike’s expression is full of suspicion. “What did Alex say to that?”
“He called Rob a geek, and then he…bowed down.”
I’d hoped to make Mike laugh again, but instead he frowns at me. “Does Alex ever give you a hard time about hanging out in here so much? Taking over space in the room?”
I sigh and plop down on Rob’s bed, seeking out his ghostly comfort. “No, brother dearest. I literally just told you so.”
“You literally just told me he went ballistic over your feminine hygiene products.” He sits at Rob’s desk, opening and closing drawers at seeming random until he lands on the bottom one, pulling out my box of pads as if to confirm my story. Throwing the package on the desk, he stands again, walking around aimlessly, before standing in front of Rob’s closet, only to pull open the door and discover it’s half my stuff and half Rob’s in the small space.
“What are you doing?” Although I’m guilty of snooping through Rob’s desk in the past, watching someone else do it while not saying anything feels inherently wrong.
“Looking for proof,” Mike grunts as he flips through the hangers.
“Proof of what?”
“Proof you two aren’t crumbling the way Chelsie and I did.”
I sit up, paying closer attention to Mike’s body language. While he looks more muscular than he ever has, his shoulders are slumped, his normally larger-than-life personality dimmed by a veil of seeming defeat.
“Why would you assume Rob and I are having problems?” Not that he’s wrong. I just never realized it might look that way to an outsider.
He reclaims his seat at Rob’s desk, but doesn’t meet my gaze. “What would you do for him?”
What kind of question is that?
Before I can formulate a response, Mike clears his throat, then meets my eyes. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him, but then all that stuff happened with Chelsie and I just…put it on the back burner.”
My senses are on full alert. Thoughts I’ve been trying to tamp down flood my mind with alarming speed. Does Rob remember what happened? Is he cheating on me the way Chelsie cheated on Mike? Was State’s starting quarterback simply waiting for the one-year anniversary of my attack to pass before casting off his pity project?
“He’s in trouble, Evie,” Mike murmurs. “And I think after what I’ve seen in here tonight, you’re the only one who can talk to him about it.”
I have to swallow down the lump in my throat before I can speak. “What kind of trouble? Did he finally beat Jamal’s ass? Because I fully support that.”
“Kinda.” Mike peers at me as though I might be clairvoyant.
Initiation gang rape or not, Jamal being a problem for the team is no big secret, so I don’t feel I’ve overstepped any boundaries by stating the obvious. Still, the longer Mike stares, the more I sweat. “Is that why Rob’s in trouble? For getting into a fight with Jamal in the locker room?”
“No, surprisingly. Between you and me, I think the coaches looked the other way because they hate him as much as the rest of us.”
Stealthy fingers of anxiety creep up my neck. “What was the fight about?”
Mike directs a pointed stare in my direction. “You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” Mike shakes his head, heaves a sigh, then looks away. “Jamal made some bullshit remark about you getting a boob job, and Rob went batshit. Tried to beat the ever-loving hell out of him.”
“Tried?” Even as tears well in my eyes, questions that have no answers sprout up in my brain. “When was this? Alex never mentioned anything about it. You never said anything about it.”
“Remember when Rob told you he’d taken a few rough tackles at practice to explain his black eye and busted lip?”
I nod.
“He didn’t want you to know what really happened. Alex and I didn’t say anything, because, well…Rob was right; you didn’t need to know.”
Assholes. All three of them. “Then why are you telling me any of this now?”
“Because Rob should have been able to lay Jamal out flat. He nearly killed the guy who attacked you, but he got his ass beat by our former quarterback who’s a total loser. Because Rob has mostly kept quiet in the locker room so far this season, but all it takes for him to snap is someone talking shit about you. You’re the only thing that matters enough to bring him out of his shell.” Mike eyes me carefully, like he can see the cogs turning in my mind.
The problem with that is: I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Help me out here, Mike. Why are we having this conversation? Do you want me to have the ‘violence isn’t the answer’ discussion with him?”
“Have you noticed Rob seems different this season?”
I’ve honestly seen a hell of a lot of differences in him, but I’m not about to admit half of them to anyone. “Different how?”
“Doesn’t he look any different to you?” Mike narrows his eyes again, studying me.
Now that he mentions it, yeah. It was something I picked up on my very first day at State. Rob appeared…smaller. With everything that’s happened since, I haven’t given it another thought. Suddenly, the gears click in place, and Mike’s convoluted interrogation makes sense. “He’s not training like he’s supposed to. He’s losing muscle mass.”
“Bingo.” Mike rises from the chair, pacing the room with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve tried to talk to him about it. Alex has tried. Even TJ said something to him about it. We get nowhere. Rob just gives us some bullshit excuse and brushes it off like it’s no big deal.” He stops his pacing, directing a steady gaze at me. “The thing is, it’s a pretty big fucking deal. I spend a lot of time in the weight room, since I don’t have all the responsibilities of a full team member. I hear the staff talking. It’s not good, Evie.”
“What are they saying?”
“At first, everyone thought it was the usual true freshman crap. NCAA play is much faster than high school. There’s an expected transition period, even with weeks of training camp prep. It’s no secret Jamal and his goons are a problem for team unity. Hell, the first half of the season, there was a fifty-fifty split in the locker room. Everyone, the coaches and staff included, knew Jamal talked the o-line into throwing that first game. No one ever blamed Rob for that.”
Mike’s run around is testing my patience. “What are they saying now?”
“He’s not pulling his weight off the field, where he’s the only one responsible for his performance. They all see it. There’s talk in certain circles about cutting him.”
“Cutting him?” Why would they go to that length if an asshole like Jamal is still on the roster?
Mike crouches in front of me, so we’re eye to eye. “He’s making the entire athletic department look bad. Don’t get me wrong, it was their own stupid fault for putting the pressure of turning this program around squarely on one freshman’s shoulders, but Evie.” He pauses, sucking in a deep breath. “If Rob doesn’t get his shit together, they’ll be just as quick to throw him under the bus as they were to sign him in the first place. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Life isn’t fair keeps ringing in my brain. “Yeah.”
“If anyone can get through to him, it’s you. I don’t blame him for not giving his all this season. Jamal has made our lives hell since the second we stepped foot on campus. If we get any bowl bid, even a shitty one, it’ll be a miracle. But, it doesn’t make sense Rob seems to have thrown in the towel. It’s not like him. The guy lives to push through to the next level. He’s always trained harder than anyone I know. He’s never been a quitter.” Mike rises to his full height, resuming his pacing. “You’re the only one who can convince him to get his act together. He’ll listen to you. He loves you.”
Yeah. He does love me. He loves me so much he doesn’t want me to be afraid of him, so he’s jeopardizing his football career to make sure that doesn’t happen.
I clear my throat until Mike focuses his attention on me. “You asked me before what I’d do for him. Now, I’m asking you. What would you be willing to do to help Rob?”
“You don’t think just talking to him will be enough? You have a better plan?”
“Yeah. I have a plan.” If I’m the only thing capable of making Rob take action, then I’ll have to make him see he needs to be strong again. For both of us.
“Come on, Rob. If you never show up to the parties, how are you supposed to build team unity for next year?”
He drags his feet as I pull him along behind me. No easy feat with his weight and my ankles wobbling in borrowed heels. There’s a valid reason I don’t own stilettos or six-inch platforms.
Alex and Mike follow, ready to turn Rob around should he try to bolt. It took all three of us to convince him to get dressed and leave the safety of our dorm.
“They’re not so bad,” Alex pipes up. “I’ve gone to a few. I think the hazing is done for the year, so give it a chance. You might have a good time.”
“Easy for you to say,” Rob mutters under his breath. “You’re not the starting quarterback with a girlfriend.”
We all understand what Rob leaves unsaid. None of the guys go to parties to drink during the season; I assume the allure for Alex and Mike is to troll for girls to hook up with. That’s one thing Rob isn’t interested in…sex is nowhere on his radar.
I plaster a convincing smile on my face and wrap myself around his arm. “The season’s almost over. There’s nothing they can do to us now. Besides, a lot of my friends will be there, and I’m tired of holing up in your room on the weekends. We’re in college! We’re supposed to balance work and play, remember?”
Lies, lies, lies.
Rob stares straight ahead, a mask of apprehension on his face.
Alex steps up beside me, casting me a look of disappointment. “Way to make it sound convincing, Papageorgiou. If anyone knows you’re all work and no play, it’s us.”
“Shut up,” I hiss at him. I turn my attention back to the mopey giant on my other side. “All the girls will be there. It’ll be safe.”
Rob raises his eyebrow. “What girls?”
Geez, he makes it sound like I don’t have any friends besides the guys currently escorting me across campus. “Harper, Leticia, Joelle…”
Chelsie’s conspicuously missing name on the list brings the mood of our little group down another notch. It’s been weeks, but they were together for over three years. Mike’s still not over it, and personally, I don’t blame him. Alex’s stories make it seem like Mike’s moving on with his life, turning into Alex’s one-night-stand protégé, but I’m not so sure. That’s just not the kind of guy Mike is, kinky rimjobs and tying up his ex aside.
We finally arrive at the Sig O house, and it’s everything I imagined it would be, right down to the clichéd guy passed out on the front lawn. Red Solo cups litter the landscape; loud music filters from the open front door into the night air, mingling with shouts of laughter from inside the traditionally jocks-only frat.
Rumor around campus has it there are only three unspoken rules for entry: you’re a brother, an athlete, or a jersey chaser with a big rack and a short skirt. Other students’ words, not mine.
Another thing I’ve heard from multiple sources is that it never gets shut down. While other frats, sororities, and off-campus parties consider the police their number one enemy, Sig O has never once had one of their parties raided for underage drinking or other criminal activity.
Students who don’t meet the requirements for admittance to a Sig O party speak of it like a mythical unicorn, complete with wide eyes and awed tones of voice. I’ve overheard more than one conversation between self-admitted average people wishing they could climb the ranks of social status just for one night to witness it all.
In short, Sig O is the Cinderella’s Ball of State.
Which makes me Cinderella. Wives’ Club initiate or not, this is not my crowd. I tug at the hem of my miniskirt, wishing I didn’t have to take off my thick winter coat once I walk through that door. Instead, I take a deep breath and will myself to play the role I’ve chosen. Kinda hard to accomplish when the whole purpose of this night is banking on trustworthy stereotypes of horny, drunken frat boys to help me prove a point.
Middle school, high school, college…some things never change.
Rob gives me a critical glance as we step over the garbage on the sidewalk. “If the other girls aren’t dressed like you, we’re leaving. Even if that means I have to throw you over my shoulder.”
“Don’t be such a caveman, Rob.” My voice doesn’t convey enough confidence.
While I’ve managed to groom my appearance into what the Wives’ Bible deems acceptable for game days, this is my first foray into party attire. I had to borrow some of Harper’s clothes just to meet the dress code. If it weren’t for my fully padded push-up bra, this shirt would never fit me.
I do not have the body to pull off this look, never mind the horror my clothes are hiding.
The Sig O brother guarding the entrance bumps fists with Alex, who walks in the door with confidence and ease born of multiple trips into this mythical land.
Since we’re strangers to this scene, Rob and I are met with narrowed eyes. “Falls, good to finally see you here. We were beginning to wonder if you’d ever show up.” He shakes his head, clucking like a hen. “Too bad you brought your Old Faithful with you. Bad move, man. Definite minus points.”
I mentally curse the Wives’ Bible for my familiarity with that term.
Clenching his fists, Rob’s muscles bunch under my hands wrapped around his arm. “What did you just say to me?”
This is going to be easier, and harder, than I thought.
Mike steps into his role as bodyguard for the night, easing between the doorman and Rob. “Easy there, Jones. Don’t poke the bear before he even steps in. That won’t convince him to rush.”
“Not sure if we want him to…yet.” Jones nods his head for us to enter.
Mike pulls from the front, I push from behind, and together we get Rob through the door.
“This is fucking stupid. Let’s just go.” Rob has to shout over the thumping bass as he hesitates to help me out of my coat while a presumed pledge waits to take them for us.
Once we’re no longer in danger of succumbing to the soaring temperature in the room, Mike leads the way to the kitchen, where a line of debauchery snakes around the kegs and make-shift bar on the sticky-looking countertop. “Give it a chance, Falls. You wanna make this your team? You need to show your face more than just on the field.”
“Not sure if I want it to be my team…yet,” Rob mocks Jones’ words.
Mike and I exchange a nervous glance. If he needed any more proof simply talking to Rob wouldn’t be enough, he’s just been delivered it with a bow on top. I didn’t want to betray Rob’s trust by admitting to Mike he’s thought about quitting the team. Tonight is meant to be proof for Mike as much as it is for Rob.
I survey the crowd with growing apprehension at my ability to pull this off without a hitch. My plan seemed so simple when I outlined it to Mike.
Step one: show Rob these guys won’t be led by someone who hasn’t earned their respect, on and off the field.
Step two: prove to Rob he can better protect me by staying strong himself.
Step three: convince Rob I’m not afraid of muscles.
That last one is partly true. I’m not afraid of Rob. Other muscular guys I don’t know? Yeah…still terrified of them.
Especially when I’m dressed like their favorite prey.
A shiver runs down my spine when Rob’s hand makes contact with the bare skin of my back, far more than I’m used to exposing.
He raises his eyebrows, like he knows exactly how uncomfortable I am right now. “You cold, honey? We can go get your coat.”
Again, Mike comes to my rescue, elbowing Rob in the stomach to lessen the punch of his words. “You just don’t want anyone else looking at your girl.”
Rob’s deadpan stare in return shows no humor. “Yeah.”
“Come on,” Mike cajoles. “Look around you. She fits in. If you put her coat back on, she’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
Mike’s observation isn’t wrong. Thanks to Harper’s help, I really do look like I belong here. With my hair straightened, a face full of makeup, clothes that don’t normally hang in my closet, and jewelry that slides along my skin with a seductive glide every time I move, for the first time in my life, I at least look like I fit in.
I always thought this would feel much better than it currently does.
“Anyway, I want to show you around the house. Let you know who’s who around here.” Mike fills a cup with beer, then turns to face Rob expectantly.
“Okay.”
That was way easier than I expected. Mike agrees if his surprised expression is anything to go by.
Rob doesn’t fill a cup for himself, and neither do I. He grabs my hand to lead me in the direction Mike turns.
Here’s where things will be tricky.
I tug from Rob’s grip, smiling with false enthusiasm when he turns to face me, an eyebrow raised.
“You go on and do your team thing. I’m gonna go talk with the girls.” I point into the living room at the makeshift dance floor where I spy Harper and Leticia seductively grinding against each other. It’s a sea of female bodies gyrating to the music. Half of them I recognize as being fellow Wives, doing their duty to provide the entertainment for the evening.
Rob’s eyes widen as he glances between the heaving ocean of sex and me. “Hell. No. I’m not letting you out of my sight while we’re here.”
Normally, I would be all for that. On the periphery of the room, hungry eyes roam over the glistening skin of the dancers. These guys must be on some team at State, but none of them are football players.
I’ve learned from Mike the football team gathers in the basement to play video games, pool, and just generally bond and relax between games. That room is exclusive during parties to them. No one else is permitted entrance.
Not even the Wives.
I wrap my arms around Rob’s waist, gazing up at him with an even expression. This has the potential to be a make or break point in the evening. “Rob, I love you and I love how hard you work to keep me safe, but it’s time for me to regain some independence, okay? You’re not with me twenty-four seven on campus, and I’ve been all right. We both need to learn to have some fun without constantly worrying the worst-case scenario is going to happen.”
I bite my tongue as soon as the words are out. While nothing about my statement is untrue, I’m actually banking on things to go wrong tonight. How fucked up is that?
Rob pulls his mouth to the side in a not-quite grimace. “If I’m smothering you, just say so.”
This is exactly the type of reaction I feared. “No, it’s not that. I just feel like I’m constantly the rock around your neck, weighing you down. Do you really want me harboring that kind of guilt? I want you to have fun, even if I’m not around. I don’t want us to become so co-dependent on each other that it’s unhealthy.”
Rob sighs but wraps his arms around me, a wry grin sliding across his lips. “You sound like Cathy.”
“I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. We can do this.”
He plants a kiss on my forehead, but releases me from his hold. “If you say so, Dr. Papageorgiou. Just be safe, okay?”
A genuine grin stretches my lips. Rob hasn’t seemed this playful in weeks. Maybe he just needed my blessing to not worry about me all the time.
He flicks his gaze between the dance floor and me only once. “Text me if you need me.”
With that, he disappears through the crowd, following Mike down a darkened hallway.
It’s probably a good thing I didn’t mention I don’t have my phone on me. Where the heck would I keep it in this pocketless, skin-tight outfit?
It takes me several minutes and elbows in my side to make it to Leticia and Harper, but when they spot me, the matching expressions of surprise on their faces reinforces my decision to drag Rob here tonight.
“You actually came!” Harper throws her arms around my neck, then holds me at arms’ length to inspect her clothes on my much shorter, skinnier frame. “And you dressed up! I just figured you’d find a reason to bail and return these to me unworn on Monday.”
I shrug off the unintentional insult, though I want nothing more than to defend Rob’s and my prerogative not to indulge in this particular college tradition. “I’m caught up on homework and studying for once, so…”
Leticia and Harper don’t need to know all my reasons for being here. I’m not sure how much I can trust anyone in this unofficial club yet.
“Homework is for the week.” Leticia raises her arms over her head, swaying her hips to the music without missing a beat while carrying on a conversation. “Weekends are for dancing, drinking, and getting laid!”
All the girls around us cheer for her proclamation. It occurs to me I’m the only girl on the floor not dancing. If I’m going to act like I fit in as well as look like it, a little liquid courage might not hurt. Before pushing my way back to the kitchen, I scan the edges of the room for a familiar figure.
From the shadows, Mike finds my gaze and nods once.
As planned, he dumped Rob with Alex and came back to make sure things don’t get too out of control.
The ball is in play.
It’s go time.
There’s still a line to get to the keg, but the bar at the counter is wide open. I’ve never had a taste for beer, so I peruse the various glass bottles lined up, but I haven’t the first clue how to make a cocktail.
It seems I missed out on more than just personal sexual education in high school. If it’s not shots of Ouzo for holidays, I’ve never had it.
Warm breath fans over my ear, sending goosebumps across my skin. “What’ll ya have, gorgeous?”
I turn to face the lanky guy to my right, trying to keep the equal parts disgust and surprise off my face. The fish are biting earlier than expected for a girl like me.
“I’m not sure.” I offer my best flirty smile, although I’m admittedly quite out of practice. “Surprise me.”
He throws his head back in laughter, revealing straight white teeth and twin dimples. “Surprises are my specialty.”
He mixes several liquors together, then pops the tab on a can of soda and fills the cup to the rim as I watch carefully. Which I realize is totally stupid. If the guys at Sig O wanted to drug anyone, they could’ve slipped something in the bottles of alcohol well before any partygoers arrived. Thanks to Tyesha and Jamal, I’m always going to be wary of being drugged.
More so than before.
Why does it always seem like the worst experiences teach the best lessons?
The smiling bartender holds my freshly mixed drink out to me with another bright smile. “I’m Shawn, by the way. And you are…?”
“Eva.” I take a tentative sip of my drink, expecting the familiar burn I associate with Ouzo, but am surprised to find it sweet and fruity. It’s like Kool-Aid.
“Well, pretty Eva. How did I do?” He leans against the counter with a charming gleam in his warm, brown eyes. “And be honest. If you don’t like that one, I’ll make as many as it takes.”
“As many as it takes for what?”
“Until you say yes.”
Did he ask me a yes/no question?
He must read the confusion on my face because he offers an almost shy chuckle. “I’ve never seen you at a party before. Do you wanna dance?”
Crap. Shawn seems too nice to use for my nefarious purposes. I cut my gaze to Mike’s hiding spot only to find it empty. Guess I’m on my own for a bit. That knowledge is enough to spike my recently abandoned discomfort. “That’s really sweet of you, but I have a boyfriend.”
Shawn raises his eyebrows in surprise. “He doesn’t allow you to dance with other guys?”
And cue my inner feminist rage. “He doesn’t control me, no. I simply find it disrespectful to our relationship.”
“I like you, Eva.” Shawn cracks a smile. “So, who’s your boyfriend, then? And what are you doing at our party without him? Attached girls aren’t really the typical guests here.”
I wrinkle my nose at his implication. “I’m not looking to cheat, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Not at all.” He holds his hands up in defense. “Just curious, I guess.”
Well, this went from friendly to annoying rather quickly. Time to shut it down. “Rob Falls.”
Shawn doesn’t even try to mask the shock on his face. “The quarterback?”
I don’t bother controlling my urge to roll my eyes. “No, the astrophysicist.”
Shawn barks out a laugh. “Hey, I’ve heard he’s actually pretty smart, even if he sucks at football. Is he majoring in physics?”
“What did you just say?” I slam my cup down, not caring about the drink that sloshes over my hand and onto the counter. “Take it back. Now.”
He laughs like I’ve just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, babe. It’s cute you want to defend him, but I think the team’s record this season speaks for itself.”
My eyes feel like they’re popping out of my skull as my head pounds with the rapid rise of my blood pressure. “You’re obviously not an athlete or else you’d know one player can’t carry a whole team. Maybe I should ask what you’re doing here; Sig O is an athletic frat, dumbass. Do they know you infiltrated the ranks to pour drinks in hope of landing an easy lay?”
Shawn’s smug expression only riles me further. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
I scoff. “An idiot?”
A chorus of laughter at my back startles me, and I turn to find several guys wearing Sig O shirts surrounding me.
“Shit, I knew I liked you, Mrs. Falls.”
I squint my eyes at the same saint who saved me from being completely naked at initiation.
“She’s not your typical Old Faithful, I’ll give you that much, Stewart,” Shawn pipes up. “Do a shot with us, Eva. You’ve earned it.”
“Earned it? Was this another stupid test?” I didn’t think I could get any angrier.
The lineman known as Stewart shakes his head at me with a smile playing in his eyes. “Girl, you’re legit. No more tests for you.”
Shawn produces a bottle from one of the cupboards beneath the countertop. “Honestly, I kinda want to see how angry drunk we can get you before you decide to fight me.”
I raise my eyebrow in challenge. “It won’t take much if you keep opening your mouth.”
Another round of laughter accompanies Shawn filling several shot glasses with amber liquid. Each of the five guys around me grabs one for themselves before Stewart picks up the last shot and hands it to me. “Donnell Stewart. I play center for your boy.”
I take the proffered shot, my nerves from earlier long gone. “I know.”
“You got lady balls of steel, girl. Welcome to the team.” Donnell’s voice is laced with clear admiration, which only further ruffles my feathers.
I pour the shot down the hatch, wincing with the burn I expected from my first drink. “Fuck your team.”
The assholes just laugh harder.
Shawn raises his brows at Donnell. “Oh, yeah. I like her.”
“I don’t really give a damn if you like me or not.” I place my shot glass on the counter, motioning for another round. “But please, continue to drink and tell me what you think of the Miners’ football team. I could use some entertainment, and I love a good debate.”
I figure I’ll just quickly teach these assholes a lesson, then go about my initial play for the night. By my third shot and several rounds of sparring with the frat brothers, I find myself lost in a haze of what I’ve come to find out is expensive tequila. I also learn I’ve apparently been arguing with the captain of State’s ice hockey team.
My frustration over all the events of this season reaches a boiling point, and I know it’ll only be a matter of time until the pressure cooker in my chest explodes. It’s probably wrong that knowing this, I continue to let Shawn bait me. But honestly, any outlet is welcome at this point. Maybe if I can get rid of all this pent-up anxiety and aggression, I can focus better on helping Rob.
Shawn’s eyes are glassy, his laughter sloppy and as free flowing as the shots. “Okay, then explain to me all the sacks he took his first game of the season. His pussy ass was on the turf more than upright that day.”
My tenuous restraint splinters at the memory of that game and the days leading up to it. I lunge for Shawn. He’s too sluggish to outmaneuver me, so my knee makes contact with his groin without any defense.
Strong arms wrap around my waist and prevent me from climbing on top of Shawn’s writhing body to finish what I started.
Rob’s voice pierces through the rushing pulse in my ears. “Evie! What the hell are you doing?”
Oh, shit. This is not how tonight was supposed to go. At all.
“He started it!” My slurred words probably don’t lend much credence to my defense.
I blink until Rob’s face comes into focus. Mike is beside him, his arms crossed over his chest, a barely contained smile toying with his mouth.
Rob brings his face closer to mine. “Did you assholes get my girlfriend drunk on Patron?”
Donnell drops his head to his arms, which are crossed on the counter. His muffled voice competes with his laughter. “Oh shit, Falls. You should’ve seen her tossin’ them back. You got a real firecracker on your hands.”
I look over my shoulder to where Shawn is still in the fetal position on the floor, surprised to hear him laughing as well. “Fuck. I had that coming.”
“I guess you were right about one thing,” Rob sighs. “You certainly can fend for yourself.”
Crap. Taking care of myself isn’t going to convince Rob to train harder.
I guess even pretending to play the victim ever again is off the table.
Time for a different play.