After Friday’s practice, I powered through a shower, threw on my jeans and hoodie, and raced from the locker room. Finn caught up with me as I jogged across the parking lot to my truck.
“Hey, ’Han, what set your pants on fire?”
“I’m meeting Jamaica and some of her friends at Stromboli’s before we head over to the bonfire.” My duffel bag landed in the back seat with a thump.
Finn’s bag landed on top of mine as he climbed in the passenger side.
“Sure, Finn, why don’t you join us?” The sarcasm in my tone was completely lost on my roommate.
“Thanks, man.” He settled into his seat and patted the dash in a “let’s go” gesture. “Are Jamaica’s friends as hot as she is?”
A laugh snorted out of me as we wheeled out of the parking lot. “Axel and Drake are into each other.” I glanced over at him. “They’re not exactly your type.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “Figures. On your advice, I gave up the jersey chasers—who, by the way, are always a sure thing—and now I’m literally the fifth wheel.”
“I did you a solid with that advice. And you’re the one who invited yourself to join us.”
“Whatever.”
As usual on a Friday night, Stromboli’s was packed. But somehow Axel and Drake had snagged the football team’s regular booth in the back. Jamaica sat between Axel and a blonde I didn’t recognize. Drake held down the other side of the table. If I didn’t know better, they were making sure my girl didn’t bolt before I arrived.
With a relieved smile, I slipped a pair of game tickets into Axel’s hand when he stood to open a space for me. “Thanks for making sure Jamaica didn’t bail on me tonight.” I glanced past him to where she chatted with her friend. “I know this isn’t her thing, but seriously, dude, she can’t go through college without experiencing the awesomeness that is Homecoming.”
“Preaching to the choir, my man. I’ve tried to talk her into coming out with us for the bonfire for the past two years, and she always turned me down.” He slanted a speculative grin my way. “Can’t imagine what’s changed this year.”
Waggling my brows, I grinned at him.
“Hello, Callahan. What’s the big deal about this bonfire tonight?” she asked as I slid into the spot Axel vacated.
“It’s part of the celebration.” I bumped her shoulder. “And it’s fun.” It had only been hours since I’d sat next to her in class, but I let my smile show her how happy I was to see her twice in the same day. “Hello, Jamaica. Who’s your friend?”
A loud throat-clearing beside me reminded me I’d brought along a guest too.
“Sorry, Finn.” Indicating the opposite side of the booth with Axel and Drake, I said, “Have a seat. Axel, Drake, this is my roommate, Finn McCabe.”
As they made room for him, Drake said with a grin, “Yeah, we know who he is.”
Finn’s brows shot up like a cartoon character.
Drake continued. “Only one of the best defensive ends MSC has ever recruited.” He stuck his hand out. “Great to meet you.”
Axel shook his hand next and smirked at Jamaica. “I truly love being your best friend. You introduce us to the most interesting people.”
Her eye roll was impressive. “You’re too easily entertained, Axel Benson.”
For her ears only, I whispered, “I’d like to entertain you privately later.”
She rewarded me with a full-body shiver that shot straight to my cock, leaving me half-hard. Distracting myself, I said, “Your turn. Who’s your friend?”
“This is my other best friend, Chessly Clarke. She’s the RA on third floor in our dorm.” Turning to her friend, she said, “Chess, this is Callahan O’Reilly, and that’s his roommate Finn.”
Chess reminded me of a porcelain doll with her golden blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and perfect skin. Then she opened her mouth and shot that image straight to hell. Her gaze was directed at my roommate. “You’re the one who hangs out with Tory Miller and her posse of mean girls, huh?” Turning to me, she said, “Did you get to pick your roommate, or does the coach do that for you?”
A dull red tinged Finn’s cheeks, and I couldn’t help but give him an I-told-you-so stare.
“Nice to meet you, Chessly.” With a chuckle at Finn’s expense, I added, “No, we aren’t assigned roommates. But if you have attitude about this one, wait till you meet Bax.”
As though I’d conjured him with his name, Bax sidled up to our booth. Ignoring the fact six people already sat at a table for six, he said, “Hey, Finn, ’Han. Make some room, wouldja?”
“Nice shirt, Bax,” Jamaica said.
After three years of living with the guy, I’d stopped paying attention to his T-shirts, but my lady’s sardonic tone had me reading this one: “Dating apps should be like Carfax: you should get to consult the previous owner.”
Bax glanced at his shirt and shrugged. “The truth is what it is.” Seeming to clue in that the booth wasn’t full of our teammates, his face lit up when he spied Chessly. “Hey, I’m Bax.” He started to reach across Jamaica and me, remembered some manners, and waved instead. “Wyatt Baxter. And you are?”
“Not on dating apps,” Chessly said.
Everyone but Bax cracked up.
Sliding my arm across Jamaica’s shoulders, I said, “I like your friend already.”
Finn took pity on Bax. “Pull up a chair and join us.”
Bax grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and took up the whole end of the booth with his broad shoulders and manspread. I shook my head. At this rate, he was going to need a lot more than a dating app to meet a girl.
Two servers arrived with two pitchers of beer and a mounded basket of wings. “Pizza is on the way. Anything else we can get you?”
Glancing at my uninvited roommates, I said, “Probably better double that pizza order. And we’ll need another pitcher with that.”
“On it.”
I let my arm slide across the cushion to rest on Jamaica’s shoulders and relaxed when a tiny sigh escaped her. She may pretend my action irritated her, but the way she melted a little into my side told a different story. Determined to stay in her good graces, I addressed her friend. “Chessly. That’s a cool name. What’s your major?”
She set her glass on the table and daintily wiped some beer foam from her lip with her napkin. “Physics.”
“Oooh, you’re hanging out with the smarties,” Finn teased me.
“After having breakfast every morning with you Neanderthals”—I included Bax in my description—“I need mental stimulation.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Finn asked with a pointed glance at where my arm wrapped around Jamaica.
“What are you studying, Finn?” Chessly’s question implied she thought he might be a basket-weaving major.
His eyes dropped to his plate of wings as he mumbled, “Bio-chem.”
Bax slapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, ole Finnegan here is going to discover the definitive cure for cancer.”
I laughed. “Definitive, Bax? Did you just learn that word?”
Bax flipped me the bird, and Finn and I cracked up.
Axel rescued him. “What’s your major, Bax?”
Drake answered for him. “Graphic design.” Axel shot an incredulous stare at his boyfriend who shrugged and added, “He’s in a few of my classes.”
Bax nodded sagely. “I thought you looked familiar.”
In the few minutes of our conversation, the mound of wings on the table had disappeared. With perfect timing, the pizzas arrived to replace them along with another pitcher of beer. As we enjoyed our meal, I whispered in Jamaica’s ear. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”
Tilting her head, she side-eyed me. “So are you.”
I squeezed her shoulder and reached for the nearest pitcher to refill our glasses. When I set hers back in front of her, I caught Chessly shooting Finn a narrow-eyed glare. That was when I heard the unwelcome pitch of Tory Miller’s voice.
“Finn. You didn’t say you’d be at Stromboli’s before the bonfire.”
Dark red tinged his cheeks as his shoulders tried to cover his ears. If he slunk any lower in the booth, he’d slide right off the seat.
“Oh, hi, Bax,” she added as an afterthought.
He nodded. “Tory.”
Then she spotted me, and her voice changed pitch again. Why some women thought the high giggly thing attracted men, I’d never understand. It grated like dragging a dead branch over glass. “Callahan. I’ve missed you at the library this week.” She stuck out her hip and twirled a lock of her hair. This girl was such a cliché.
Beside me, Jamaica’s soft body turned to granite.
At that moment, Tory caught sight of Jamaica then her eyes slid to Chessly. I stared in fascination as her entire demeanor changed from consummate flirt to catty bitch in a nanosecond.
“What in the world are you guys doing with this truck-stop trash?” she demanded.
Six pairs of eyes stared at her. The first person to recover was Chessly, but she spoke to the server who had arrived in the middle of the drama with our next pizza. “You might want to save your bouncer a fine and escort this person”—Chessly shot a glance past Tory to the group of girls standing behind her—“and her friends out of here before someone calls the cops on you guys for letting underage people in here.”
Tory sputtered, “What are you talking about? We’re all”—she gestured to her posse—“twenty-one. The bouncer checked our IDs.” Her voice climbed an octave, and it was all I could do not to cover my ears.
Bax pushed his chair closer to Finn who was now crowding Axel who had Drake pushed into the corner.
Chessly’s attention remained on the server. “Their IDs are all fake. Two of those girls live in our dorm, and I know for a fact they’re freshmen. This one”—she pointed to Tory—“is a sophomore. Don’t let the layers of makeup fool you. I don’t think she’s even twenty yet.”
If looks could kill, the lasers of Tory’s eyes would have crisped Chessly to a cinder.
“Chess,” Jamaica hissed out of the side of her mouth.
I glanced at Finn who stared at Chessly with a stunned expression. When she remained calm in the face of Tory’s fury, that expression turned to something that looked a whole lot like interest.
The group of four or five girls behind Tory blocked the servers trying to work the tables across from our booth. With their focus on their leader, they didn’t move when someone asked them to. Like the sound of an avalanche rolling downhill, the grumbling increased to loud complaints from the people sitting at the blocked tables, but the girls didn’t budge. It only took a couple of minutes for the bouncer to arrive and discover the problem.
When the server shook his head and didn’t out Tory and her buddies, Chessly, said, “Hey, Steve. These girls are all underage no matter what their IDs say. Trust me.”
“Is that right?” the bouncer drawled.
“She’s stirring up trouble because she’s jealous that the boys here”—Tory glanced around at my roommates and me—“would rather sit with my friends and me.”
The bouncer wasn’t convinced. “I need to see your ID, Miss.”
Tory snorted a breath, tossed back her hair, and reached into the tiny purse hanging by a thin strap from her shoulder. Now that I thought about it, that purse was a tell. The women we spent time with—present company included—didn’t generally carry purses. Freshmen, and apparently some sophomores, carried them though.
The bouncer pulled a penlight from his back pocket and shined it on Tory’s ID. After turning it this way and that, he pushed at an edge with his fingernail and started peeling up the plastic. Huh. Next came a layer of paper with her vitals on it. Beneath that was another layer with her photo.
“You bought one of those overseas IDs, I see. Is your name actually Tory Miller?” the bouncer asked.
She tried to jerk her ID from his hand, but he raised it over his head and out of her reach. “You have no right to damage my property like that,” she screeched as she pulled on his arm, which didn’t move at all.
Unfazed by her antics, the guy said, “Miss, you and your friends will have to leave the bar immediately.”
“But you can’t—”
One of the bartenders joined the scene playing out in front of our booth. “Need some help, Steve?”
“I don’t usually call the cops on women, but this banshee might change my mind.”
Tory screeched again and stomped her feet in a tantrum. The sounds of people drinking, eating, and conversing stopped abruptly. A second later, so did her hissy fit. “You’ll pay for this, Chessly Clarke. So will you, Jamaica Winslow. No one makes a fool of me and gets away with it.”
With patronizing patience, Chessly said, “No one made a fool of you, Tory. You did that all by yourself.”
“Miss,” the bouncer said.
With a final toss of her hair, Tory flounced out of the bar. The eyes of every girl in her posse were the size of dinner plates as they stared at the bouncer, back at our table, and finally at her before they fell into step and followed her outside.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Chessly. I can’t afford a seven-hundred-dollar fine for letting underage kids past the door.” The bouncer gave her a tiny salute.
Chessly nodded back at him. “Anytime, Steve. See you in class on Monday.”
A few minutes later, the server returned with a fresh pitcher. “On the house,” he said as he set it in the middle of our table.
When he left, I stared hard at Finn. “Did you text her or something?”
He put his hands up. “No, I swear I didn’t. I’ve been taking your advice and keeping my distance this last week.” His eyes slid back to Chessly.
I leaned my forearms on the table. “So how did she know we were here? Especially since you invited yourself to join us.”
Bax cleared his throat. “I might have responded to her text after I got here.”
Cuffing him along the back of his head, I said, “Dumbass. All fall I’ve been telling you guys that girl and her friends are jailbait. Now do you believe me?” Both of them dropped their eyes to the table. Turning to Jamaica and Chessly, I asked, “How do you know her?”
“I was her RA last year. What a nightmare.” Chessly sighed. “Growing up with her dad’s money did that one no favors.” She nudged Jamaica and grinned. “Your idea to glue her door shut with her in her room would have saved us all kinds of grief.”
Giving her the big eyes, I said, “Whoa, Jamaica. I had no idea you had that in you.”
“She has great ideas,” Axel chimed in, “but she’s smart enough not to implement them—anymore.”
“Axel… ” Jamaica warned.
“Especially after that time we filled Mrs. Stoker’s desk drawer with exploding spiders sophomore year.”
“What’s this? You pranked your teacher? Now you have to tell us the story,” I insisted.
Instead, she stuffed a massive bite of pizza in her mouth and chewed slowly.
Axel laughed. “Mrs. Stoker was only good at ‘teaching’ kids who already knew the material,” he said with air quotes. “She was a rich girl who was ‘giving back,’ but she had nothing for those who struggled. Of course, that pissed J right off, so she started a little tutoring group during lunch.”
“You instigated that as much as I did,” Jamaica protested.
Axel ignored her. “After Stoker found out, she nitpicked every little thing Jamaica did in class. Somehow, we found out she was scared of spiders, so… .”
Jamaica glared at Axel.
“You can’t leave us hanging like this,” Bax whined.
“We were suspended for two days. But Stoker left our school and never came back, so it was worth it.” Axel’s eyes danced.
“You rebel, you.” I grinned at my girl.
She shook her head. “Nope. I learned my lesson.” To Chessly, she added, “But maybe we should have floured her room on some random Friday afternoon. It would have kept her busy cleaning it for the weekend at least.” An impish grin played over her mouth as she reached for her beer.
I took the opportunity to whisper in her ear. “I like you even more now that I know what devious thoughts you have.”
“Maybe you should be terrified,” she shot back.
Oh yeah. I liked this girl.