As with every other part of the college football game day experience, my friends were spot-on about hustling out of the stadium and heading directly for Stromboli’s. We grabbed an open booth opposite the bar about halfway between the front door and the back. Behind us, people spilled in like someone had turned a faucet on high. Within minutes, the place was packed.
A harried server stopped at our table to drop off menus and grab our drinks order. When he came back about ten minutes later with a pitcher of dark beer and one of water, we ordered a jumbo meat lover’s with extra jalapenos and settled in to wait for our pie.
“We probably should have ordered breadsticks too,” I said as I accepted a glass of beer from Drake.
At his raised brow, I clarified, “To soak up the alcohol we already have in our systems before adding more.” I indicated my brimful glass of beer.
Axel snorted. “It’s okay for you to let your hair down sometimes, J.”
Shaking my head, I bent down and slurped the top off my beer in an effort to keep it from spilling on me when I lifted the glass to my mouth for another drink.
“Admit it, Jamaica. You enjoyed the game today,” Axel said as he slid closer to Drake across the booth from me.
With a shrug, I said, “It was fun, I guess.”
“You’re such a bad liar.” Axel smirked. “When O’Reilly ran that last touchdown in, you were screaming your head off.”
Running my finger through the condensation rings on the tabletop, I said, “It was more exciting than I thought it would be to watch a bunch of big guys bash into each other.”
Drake almost choked on his beer. When he hauled himself back under control, he said, “You mean watching a certain big guy bash into the Bulldogs defenders.” His sly grin had me downing a long pull from my glass.
Axel’s eyes danced as he leaned forward. “Tell us, J. What’s going on between you and O’Reilly?”
“We’re project partners. That’s all.” A vision of the two of us in a private study room in the library flared in my brain, and my entire body flashed hot.
“Totally explains the color of your cheeks right now.” Drake smirked.
“Just because the two of you are an item doesn’t mean everyone else needs to be too,” I said with a sniff.
“Stop deflecting, Jamaica.” Axel’s naughty grin matched his partner’s, and I wanted to throw the half-full pitcher of beer at the two of them.
Instead, a big body loomed over me. The clean scent hitting my nostrils told me who it was before I looked up into a pair of sea-blue eyes that pinned me to my seat.
“Thanks for saving me a spot, Island Girl.”
Without asking my permission, he slid in beside me, crowding me into the corner of the booth. Again without my permission, he helped himself to my glass, tossing back what was left in it and refilling it.
He moaned. “Mmm. Exactly what I needed.”
“Hello, Hotshot. Care to join us? Drink my beer for me?” I asked and didn’t hold back the snark.
Ignoring it, he smiled. “What did you think of your first football game, Jamaica? Off-the-charts awesomeness, yeah?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, mostly to keep from sliding my hand over the muscular thigh beneath his jeans. With a shrug, I said, “Chess is still better, but football was all right.”
All three guys burst out laughing.
“She loved it, didn’t she?” he asked my friends.
“Was totally into it from the second you stepped on the field, Callahan.”
I shot my best friend a why-am-I-friends-with-you? glare, and he laughed at that too. Traitor.
Callahan leaned in close and said into my ear, “What did you think of that touchdown I scored for you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That was for me? Really? ’Cause it sure seemed like your team needed it.”
He chuckled. “We all needed it, but I dedicated it to you. For watching your first game.”
The server chose that opportune moment to show up with our pizza. His eyes almost bugged out of his head when he saw who had joined our little party.
“Great game today. We watched it on TV while we prepped for this insanity.” The server glanced around at the heaving mass of people crowded into the pizzeria. “You need another glass here?”
“Thanks, man. We could use another glass, another plate, another pitcher, and another pie,” Callahan said.
“On it!” The server disappeared into the crowd and reappeared only a minute or two later with a fresh pitcher and a glass and plate for Callahan.
Drake poured what was left of the first pitcher into his and Axel’s glasses, then he reached for the second and filled Hotshot’s and topped mine off. Axel was busy dishing up slices and handing them around. Both of them were born hosts even when they weren’t at home entertaining a houseful of people.
“You like the seats?” Callahan asked my friends.
“Damn, ’Han, those were excellent,” Axel gushed. “Thanks again for the tickets.”
“Game days are always a blast, but we only ever watch from the student section. It’s a whole other experience seeing the game from the fifty.” Drake saluted Callahan with his beer and took a drink.
Talk turned to the finer points of football. As a newbie, I didn’t quite follow what the guys discussed. Then again, I was busy stuffing my face with meaty, cheesy goodness and surreptitiously stealing stray jalapeno slices from the pizza tray.
In the middle of Axel’s observations about the weaknesses in the Bulldogs’ interior defensive line, Callahan snatched a jalapeno slice out from under my wandering fingers. As I opened my mouth to voice a complaint, he popped it between my lips. “You call me Hotshot. Maybe I should call you Hot Lips.”
The heat in his eyes as they strayed to my lips sent a naughty shiver through me.
“I knew it,” Axel called out.
I did my level best to burn my oldest friend to a cinder with my stare alone, and he had the good sense to slide down a notch on the bench seat across from me.
“But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with us.” He turned to Drake who nodded and shot me a wink.
“There is no secret.” I narrowed my eyes at Callahan who returned a wicked grin. I was torn between wanting to rub that smirk off his face and wanting to kiss it. Gah!
“So this is public knowledge?” Drake asked, waving a hand between Hotshot and me.
Throwing my hands in the air—no mean feat in the tight corner space Callahan left for me when he slid in beside me—I ground out, “There is no”—and repeated Drake’s gesture. “What is wrong with you two?”
“Nothing. Our eyes work fine,” Axel said. He exchanged a look with Drake, and two Cheshire Cat smiles turned in my direction.
“Hanging out with you has always been fun, J,” Axel added. “But when you bring in a bonus”—he pointed his slice of pizza at Callahan—“you’re even more fun.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
Callahan slid his arm across the booth behind me, crowding me even further into the corner. “I’m your bonus, huh? I like the sound of that.” When he gifted me with bedroom eyes again, I wanted to slide my hand between my legs and shield my clit—or give it some pressure. Neither choice was exactly a good one at the moment. Callahan’s low chuckle told me he had a clue what I was feeling, which did not make my current situation any better.
“Like I’ve told you before, men have stereotyped women as gossips, but this right here?”—I circled my hand around the table to include all of them. “This proves starting rumors and gossip is an equal-opportunity sport regardless of gender.” I shoved a bite of pizza in my mouth before I could say anything else such as, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Hotshot?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I chanced a glance his way and immediately wished I hadn’t. The sly grin he directed at me made it hard to swallow the pizza in my mouth. Especially as that look accompanied the press of his thigh along the side of mine. Heat prickled over my skin, and in spite of myself, I squirmed and tried to resituate. But there was nowhere for me to go. On one side was the wall the booth abutted to and on the other side was Callahan’s deliciously hard body.
The server chose that opportune moment to deliver the second pizza Callahan had ordered. Before he could whisk away the now empty pan from the first one, I reached out and snagged the last jalapeno slice left on it and popped it in my mouth. I hoped it was hotter than sin so I’d have something else to think about other than Hotshot’s too-tempting body pressed along too much of mine.
Usually, one pizza was enough for the three of us, but a certain football player’s presence must have brought out the guys’ appetites because the three of them devoured that second pizza in a few minutes. When the server returned to see if we needed another pitcher of beer and Axel started to say yes, Callahan interrupted.
“We could have another here, but then we’ll be too far ahead for the party.”
“What party?” Axel asked.
“What the hell, Island Girl? You didn’t tell these guys about the party?” His incredulous expression was comical.
I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. At the end of our last study session, I invited you.” At my furrowed brow, he added, “You know. When you got all pissed off about me not introducing you to that fuckboy Enriquè Simms who was showing you far too much interest.”
“Oh my God. You have got to be kidding.” I glared at him. “You invited your basketball friend, not me.”
He dropped his hand on my shoulder and pulled me even closer to his side. “Jamaica.” Hearing him sound out my name in that indulgent tone set my teeth on edge. “Stop acting stubborn. I invited you.” Giving his attention to my friends who were avidly watching our little drama, he added, “Now I’m inviting you guys. We like to celebrate victories at our place.” He waggled his brows, and Axel and Drake cracked up.
I closed my eyes and prayed for patience. Was he seriously implying I was a victory too?
This.
This was why I kept my distance from players.