The Play
Brenna bolts out of the booth when she spots me. “Hunter! Jesus, what a game!”
“I know, right?”
“You superstar, you.” She flings her arms around me, which is way more touchy-feely than Brenna usually is. But then I see the two shot glasses on the tabletop. Ah. She and Summer already started hitting the vodka.
“Seriously, I was on my feet the entire time cheering my lungs out,” Brenna raves, and I know it’s not just drunken praise. Brenna Jensen is probably the biggest hockey fan (and expert) in this entire bar. She’s definitely her father’s daughter, even landing an internship at ESPN. She works there on weekends, and afternoons when she doesn’t have class.
“That was the ass kicking of the century,” Summer agrees. “I wish Fitzy got to see it, but I was live-tweeting the entire time, so he can read the thread later.”
I sit next to Brenna. Bucky slides in next to Summer. A minute later Matt reappears with a pitcher and a stack of plastic cups. Malone’s has a new Friday night special—half-price pitchers, baby. I don’t plan on going overboard tonight, because we have another game tomorrow. But a few beers won’t hurt.
“Where’s the nutty one?” Matt asks the girls.
“Who? Rupi?” Brenna snickers. “She’s at home watching Glee reruns.”
“Why didn’t she come out?”
“She doesn’t have a fake ID,” I supply. “And she refuses to get one.”
Summer speaks up, mimicking Rupi’s high voice so flawlessly it’s almost like she’s in the booth with us. “I can’t break the law! I will wait until I am of age, thank you very much!”
Brenna lets out a rueful sigh. “I honestly don’t know how Hollis puts up with her. And vice versa.”
“For real,” Summer agrees. “All they do is scream at each other.”
“Or make out,” I counter.
“True. They scream or they make out.” Summer shakes her head. “There’s no in between.”
“Is he still coming back on the weekends?” Matt asks, raising his beer to his lips. He takes a sip. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”
“He’s home every weekend,” I confirm. “But he spends most of his time with Rupi. Hollis in love is a scary thing to witness, bro. You need to come over this weekend and see it for yourself.”
Bucky sets Pablo on the table so he can pour himself a beer. When Summer reaches for the egg, he swiftly smacks her hand away. “Pablo isn’t a toy,” he scolds.
“It’s just an egg.”
“Just an egg?” Conor drawls, approaching the booth to catch the end of Summer’s amused response. “That’s our fucking mascot, Di Laurentis. Show some respect.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult your egg.”
He grins, and even Summer can’t deny him a response. Her cheeks pinken, and Con’s grin widens. Dude’s well aware of what his smile does to women. He’s probably been harnessing that power since grade school, like one of the X-Men.
But although Summer isn’t entirely unaffected, she’s still very much unavailable. “Stop smiling at me like that or I’ll tell Fitz.” She sticks out her tongue. “Then he’ll show up at practice and kick your ass.”
“I’m not allowed to smile at you? All right, then. How ’bout dancing? Can we dance?”
Summer ponders that. “Sure, that’s allowed. But only because I like this song.” It’s some Taylor Swift track I don’t know too well.
She hops up and drags Conor toward the cluster of people gathered near the small stage that’s hardly ever used. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a live band grace the stage at Malone’s, but the tiny space in front of it is the closest to a dance floor that the bar has.
Brenna’s eyes track Conor’s easy gait. And his ass. “Geez, that boy is attractive.”
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Matt reminds her.
“So? I’m not allowed to acknowledge someone else is attractive? Come on. Look at him.”
Matt, Bucky and I turn to scrutinize our teammate. He’s got one hand on Summer’s slim waist, the other holding his beer as they dance. When he leans in to whisper something in her ear, his gray eyes twinkle devilishly.
I mean, I’m not going to lie. Edwards is hot. We all know it.
“Ugh. Now I feel left out,” Brenna whines, and the next thing I know she’s shoving me out of the booth and tugging me to my feet. “Come on, hot stuff, dance with me.”
Before I can blink, we’re across the room and Brenna is squished up against me. And her body is so fire that I forget how to breathe. Skintight jeans are plastered to her long, shapely legs, her dark hair is thick and glossy, and her top is even more indecent than Summer’s. So tight it looks like her full tits are trying to escape.
I don’t want to touch her. I’m scared that if I do, that if my hands connect with a hint of bare skin or the slightest female curve, I might embarrass myself.
“What’s the matter?” Brenna says. “You forget how to move?”
I offer a self-deprecating smile. “Trust me, you don’t want me to move.”
“Why’s that…?” Understanding suddenly dawns. “Ohhh. Because you’re out of commission.” She purses her lips. “Are you scared that if our bodies touch, you’ll get aroused?”
“I already am aroused,” I grumble. “Everything gets me aroused, Bee. The feel of the wind on my face gets me aroused. Bumping into a table gets me aroused.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, you really are in a state, aren’t you?”
I groan. “The worst kind.”
“You poor thing.” She grabs my hands and plants them on her hips, then loops her arms around my neck.
And yup, my dick cannot distinguish between a girl with a boyfriend and one without. It promptly thickens behind my zipper.
“Fucking hell, Jensen, let’s not do this. Please.”
“Aw, come on. What’s a boner between friends?” She starts moving to the upbeat T-Swift song, except three seconds later it ends and is replaced with that old T.I. track—“Whatever You Like.” The one that’s all about fucking, with a sultry beat that is way too dangerous for my aching nether regions.
“My boner doesn’t understand that you’re off-limits,” I mutter.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Brenna says, and I almost pass out when she brings her red lips to my ear and seductively whispers in it. “Jake and I have an open relationship.”
Immediately, my throat goes dry. “W-what?” I stammer hoarsely.
“I’m just saying…” Her hips sway. “If you ever want to break your vow…”
A bolt of heat shoots up my spine. “What the hell are you saying?”
“You know exactly what I’m saying.”
She draws tiny circles on my nape with her fingernails. Meanwhile, T.I. is singing about things being wet and hot and tight and I’m in big trouble.
“Why don’t we go home?” she suggests, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck. Our bodies are almost flush now. Her sexy voice is still tickling my ear. “We’ll be really, really quiet. Rupi won’t hear a thing.”