Page 55 of For the Boys
What felt like hours later she looked up and noticed a crowd had formed around them. Most of the partygoers were now gathered near the table, watching as the two girls played an extremely close game against Rat and Grey. Each team was down to one cup, and every shot had been a miss for the last twelve attempts from either side.
Finally one of Kimber’s shots landed solidly in the cup of water with a satisfying plunk. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Berkley gave her a high five.
“Okay,” Kimber said, settling her hands on Berkley’s shoulders and looking straight into her eyes for the second time that night. In Berkley’s less-than-sober state, Kimber’s image swam before her, and Berkley blinked several times, attempting to bring her into focus. “All you have to do is sink this. Those two are so wasted they can barely stand.” Kimber glanced sideways at Rat and Grey, who were holding onto each other for support, both swaying side to side in an attempt to remain upright like two saplings in a strong wind. “You got this, Berkley Daniels.”
She did have this. Berkley dunked her ball into a cup of water and shook it off, spinning it around in her fingers in her approximation of a pre-free-throw ritual. She took a deep breath in, released it slowly, raised the ball, and sent it arcing across the air above the table.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the ball slowly, slowly, slowly descended toward the cup, catching the inside of the rim before bouncing into the water.
Berkley threw her hands up in the air with a loud scream, and Kimber picked her up and swung her around in a hug. “That’s my girl!” Kimber yelled when she set her down. Turning, she stared down Rat and Grey, a dangerous smirk on her face. “Good luck beating that.”
Rat and Grey exchanged goofy, stunned expressions. A brief argument ensued over who would shoot first before it was decided it would be Grey. He prepared his shot, squinting through one eye at the remaining cup on Kimber and Berkley’s side of the table. Then he let it fly.
His shot flew so wide it smacked Berkley in the chest before dropping to the floor.
The room erupted in cheers, the game finally ending in victory for the two blonde women. Berkley received high fives from several people she didn’t know before a set of muscled forearms wrapped themselves around her waist.
Berkley turned to find Brent staring down at her, a giant grin lighting his face.
“You were amazing!” he said in her ear, his voice barely audible above the noise around them.
“Hey, that’s my line!”
Brent laughed and threw his arm around Berkley’s shoulders. She looked around the loft at the groups of people gathered. A few girls in sky-high stilettos were bowling. There was a couple making out on a chair in the corner, and clusters of Brent’s teammates conversed around the space. It was late, already after midnight, and the partygoers, mostly the female ones, were quickly reaching different levels of inebriation.
“What’s with all of the chicks?” she asked Brent.
“Puck bunnies,” he said. “Those are the kinds of girls you’ll find waiting outside the rink near our parking lot hoping someone will pick them up. Plus, the ones that have been around for a while know about the loft, unfortunately, so they frequently show up uninvited. Some of the single guys get bored, so they’ll grab a few and take them home to...uhh…”
“Blow off some steam?” Berkley laughed, trying to cover up how uncomfortable that notion made her.
“Yes, blow off some steam.”
“Have you ever done that?” The words left her mouth before she could censor herself.
“When I was new to the league,” he admitted. “But I never picked up anyone from around here. It was always on the road. I never liked the thought of bringing random girls back to my place in case one of them got crazy and started stalking me or something. The fact that they know where the loft is is one thing because it’s not like any of us actually live nearby. It feels...safer, I guess.”
Berkley giggled nervously at the notion of Brent or any of his teammates ever feeling unsafe. Then again, women could be crazy, especially superfans of professional athletes.
Even though her heart was in her throat, she tried to keep her voice steady when she responded. “I know about Nashville.”
Brent stilled. “What about Nashville?”
“The waitress you hooked up with.”
Brent’s eyes widened. “Who told you about that?”
“No one told me,” Berkley said. “Mitch and Parker were talking about it that night Lexie and I ran into them.”
The night Parker attacked me,she thought.
Brent held his hands up defensively. “It’s not what you think.”
The reasonable, logical side of her knew he was right. She’d had to remind herself several times over the last few months that she and Brent hadn’t even officially met at that point. Certainly, she hadn’t been in any position to judge him. But still, she couldn’t deny that she struggled with reconciling that man—the one who slept with random women—with the one standing in front of her. Had he even considered her at all that night? Or was she simply a challenge for him? When he got bored of her, like a kid with a toy when the newness wore off, would he toss her aside just like every other man she’d really cared about?
“Then why do it?” she asked. “If I remember correctly, days before that, you were in my DMs telling me you wanted to get to know me. What changed?”
Brent dipped his head forward and said quietly, “I don’t know. The boys peer-pressured me.”
