Page 6 of Walkoff Wedding

Christ.

Not sure how looking after these idiots became my job, but if I don’t keep an eye on them, we’ll all end up running suicides until we puke.

And the very last thing I need? To end up on social media in yet another compromising position. Not after PANTYgate, which put me on very thin ice with my agent, who’s probably going to drop me at any second because I’m not worth the headache.

His words, not mine.

It would probably be fine if it was just PANTYgate that was the problem. But… that was only one out of a slew of rookies-behaving-badly incidents that have put our asses in hot water with not just our coach but also the dean and the head of the athletic department. Once backers got wind of everything that had been happening, they threatened to pull their donations, and that was the final straw.

Needless to say, we fucked up. And I kept being in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting caught up in their shit. So, here I am, babysitting a bunch of college guys because I’m not letting them be the reason this sponsorship gets yanked away or that a scout decides not to come watch me play. My future’s at stake here.

“Come on, Bergeron, stop being a party pooper,” he mutters as he turns to face me, sweeping his dark, auburn hair out of his eyes and flipping his hat backward.

“Did you just call me a… party pooper? How old are we, five?”

“Yeah, well, you’re being a numbnut and quite possibly the worst wingman in history. Did you see those girls? They were legit fucking me with their eyes. I probably could’ve fucked all three of them. At once. And you…” He pokes my chest drunkenly. “…keep ruining all the fun. You know, there’s never any fun to be had with you around lately.”

I roll my eyes as he pouts like a petulant toddler. “Do I need to remind you what happened two weeks ago? The last time you took your clothes off in public and ended up going viral? On more than one occasion? Actually, the better question is why do you keep trying to take your clothes off the second you start drinking?”

“No, I do not need you to remind me.” He narrows his eyes with a scowl. “What I need is for you to reach back there and pull the stick out of your ass. C’mon, man, this is your last year of college. This is the time where you live it up. You get fucked-up and do stupid shit you’ll tell your bros about when you’re forty and reliving your glory days. Can’t relive the glory days if there were none. Which is exactly why you have me.”

“Pretty sure you’re just filling in as the number one pain in my ass now that Reese is gone,” I retort, referencing my best friend, who graduated in May and moved to Washington state, where he’s catching for their minor league team.

A busty redhead dressed as a naughty teacher passes by with a tray of plastic shot glasses, and Davis swipes two, tossing her a wink before thrusting one toward me. “Call it what you want, but admit it, life would be pretty fucking boring if you didn’t have me around. Dull and fun-less.”

“That’s not an actual word.”

His shoulder dips. “Semantics.” Lifting the shot glass, he knocks it against mine, and we toss them back together.

The cheap liquor burns as it slides down my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut until I can suck in a gulp of air. “Goddamn, I almost forgot how bad that shit is. It’s like rubbing alcohol.”

Davis chuckles. “Cheap, nasty as fuck, but highly effective. Shit… I gotta pee. Let’s go out back. I don’t feel like waiting for the bathroom again.”

My thoughts immediately flit back to Addie.

Mystery girl in her Mary Janes and oversized cardigan.

Fuck, she was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that knocks you right on your ass.

In my case, off the side of a deck and face down into a bush, but still.

Bright blue eyes, pink pouty lips, dark lashes, heart-shaped face with long, curly blonde hair that nearly reached her waist.

She looked out of place at a party like this. Like she was too good, too innocent to be around this kind of scene. Who fled before I really got the chance to know her. To get her number. Ask her out.

I really fucking wish I would’ve gotten her number.

“What, you need me to hold your dick while you pee?” I ask. I didn’t realize pee breaks were a team effort.

Everything seems to be with this dude, and for a guy who values his solitude lately, it’s sometimes exhausting.

“If you want.” Davis smirks playfully. “I’m just saying for someone who’s so worried about babysitting me, letting me venture out there all alone is a bit of a gamble, don’t you think?”

Fuck me.

“Whatever. Let’s go. But after this, I’m out, which means you are too. My babysitting duties are done.”

He lifts his hand in a dramatic salute and brushes past me toward the back porch, pushing his way through the crowded house. It’s well after midnight, and the party’s still going strong, unsurprisingly. OU has plenty of places to party, but most people end up at Kappa or at the Redlight, the college bar down the street, depending on what’s going on. Tonight’s party is back-to-school themed, which means there are plenty of girls walking around dressed as sexy teachers. Hence Davis’s insistence that we come out tonight, even though I wasn’t feeling it.

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