A frosty bottle is set on the table, and I look over. Jay-sus. Okay, now I get what Dex is saying, because the waitress is smoking. And the tits she apparently thrust under my nose are so huge they’re practically falling out of her low-cut top. How in the hell did I miss that?
She gives me a smile filled with promises I know will be delivered with much enthusiasm. And what do I want to do? Drink my beer, eat my food, talk to Dex, and then go home. In that order.
“Thanks,” I tell her before taking a long pull of the beer and tuning her out. Dex’s eyebrow lifts in emphasis. Yeah, I know. I’m fucked.
The waitress huffs off.
“You know it isn’t going to go away just because you won’t acknowledge it,” Dex says.
“What isn’t going away?” Johnson asks, suddenly at my side.
Fuck. Me.
He, Thompson, and Diaz are here and they cram into the booth without ceremony. Diaz takes the seat next to Dex, while Johnson and Thompson shove me to make space for their massive bulk. Which means I’m squished into the corner. Though Johnson is pure Iowa farm boy with straw-colored hair and pale blue eyes and Thompson is an inner-city kid from Detroit with a retro fade, there’s a similarity about their size and the way they move and talk in unison. Brothers from another mother, we call them.
“What we talking about?” Johnson tries to grab my beer but he’s too slow. Linebacker speed is sad.
“Nothing.”
“Gray’s special needs,” Dex says over me as the waitress comes back and proceeds to dole out the food. I take possession of my burger before it’s gone. As it is, Thompson shouts, “Wings!” and claims a basket.
“You mean how he’s hot for Ivy?” Johnson dives into the cheesy tots. Fucker. Those are my favorite.
“Man,” Diaz drawls, shaking his head, “don’t do it.”
“Why not?” Johnson asks around a mouthful of tots. “She’s wicked hot. I’d hit that.”
“Hey,” I snap with a death glare. Johnson shrugs in apology but doesn’t look too sorry.
“She’s his potential agent’s daughter, knucklehead,” Thompson says to Johnson. “You do not fuck with the daughters.”
Dex watches us between bites of his burger. “Every girl is some guy’s daughter. What if she wants to be with Gray? It’s her life, not her dad’s.”
“True that,” says Diaz.
“Whatever,” I cut in. “She is my friend. Which means off limits.”
“But you want her.” This from all of them. In unison. And they laugh at that.
Yeah, fucking hi-larious. The burger is starting to land hard in my gut. I’ve got to start eating better.
“Come on, Gray-Gray, you know you do.”
“Kiss the girl, already.” Johnson begins to sing. Badly. A cheesy tot hits his cheek, and he chucks a wing at Diaz in retaliation. It goes wide.
“Isn’t that the song the little crab sings in The Lion King?” Dex asks.
“It’s The Little Mermaid. And stop playing like you don’t know.”
“Says the dude who knows the lyrics.”
“Please. My little sister watched it five million times when we were kids.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Johnson.”
And then they’re back to me.
“You really should admit to it. Probably make you feel better.”
“You want her baaad.”
“Fine,” I snap. “I do. But it’s not happening, so shut the fuck up and let a man eat.”
Johnson gives me a once-over as he swipes Dex’s beer. “Man, this is bad news. Soon you’ll be so jacked up for it, you’ll get distracted on the field.”
“I’d like to think I’m a better player than that,” I say, truly offended, because what the fuck? Football is my life’s focus.
But Johnson shrugs, unconvinced. “When’s the last time you got any?”
“Why do you care?” Nope, I’m not going to squirm in my seat.
Diaz looks me over and rubs the fuzz he likes to think is a goatee as if he’s contemplating. “Not since he’s been driving that car.”
They all stare in obvious shock. I can’t blame them. Has it been that long? Shit, it has. My skin prickles, a sinking sensation tugging at my gut. I haven’t touched a girl since I started texting Ivy. It wasn’t even a conscious decision, because I can’t remember making it. And the realization freaks me out. So much so, I take a bite of my burger to keep my shaking hands occupied.
Unfortunately, Johnson isn’t through with me. “Why don’t you just fuck her and get some relief?”
I roll my eyes. “That has got to be the dumbest idea in the history of sex.”
“Explain.”
“Okay, just for shits and giggles, let’s assume that I make my move and Ivy agrees to let me into her bed. What happens afterward? She. Is. My. Friend. I don’t want to lose that.” Hell no. A world without Ivy in it would be like a world without the sun—cold, dark, devoid of gravity. I’m pretty sure I’d drift aimlessly. A shudder hits me just thinking about it. Hell, it’s bad enough that I have to face her leaving for London in a few short months.
“So no to the friends with benefits?” Dex asks in a subdued tone, as if he’s truly curious.
“Oh, that’s always a great idea,” I snap. “It never works. And then I’ll be out a friend just because I can’t keep my dick in my pants.”
“You never know unless you try,” Dex says. “Maybe once will be enough for both of you.”