Page 35 of For the Boys
“Thirsty?” Brent asked.
“Parched,” she said with a smile.
“How is your birthday going?”
“Technically, my birthday was yesterday.”
“Semantics,” he said. “Your birthday ends when this party does.”
“Says who?”
“Me,” he said. “Didn’t your friends tell you this was all my idea?”
Berkley rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe they went along with it.”
He laughed. “Stop fighting with me and just accept it,” he said, winking. “You’re already here. Might as well enjoy yourself.”
At that moment, the opening notes to “C’Mon” by Ke$ha pounded through the speakers, a blast of pure nostalgia. Berkley and her friends had listened to it on repeat in college. It was one of their favorite pregame songs before going to their favorite dive bar in downtown East Lansing.
Amelia’s excited scream sounded from somewhere across the room, and Berkley looked at Brent apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back!” She hurried away in favor of her friends, who joined her on the dance floor.
An hour later, her legs were screaming at her. She weaved through the crowd toward the bar, plopping down on a stool next to Brent, who was standing in the same spot he’d been in when she’d left him. The shorter blond man he was talking to held his hand out to her.
“Chase Olsson,” he said, awkwardly shaking her hand when she held out the wrong one, too busy chugging water with the other to switch them. “You must be Berkley. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’ve watched you play a lot,” Berkley offered with a giggle and a shrug. She looked at Brent. “Is he your only teammate here?” He nodded, looking confused. She didn’t elaborate, not willing to unnecessarily dive into the tale of Parker Graff and the taxi.
“Like what you see?” Chase wiggled his eyebrows at her.
She smirked and shook her head. “It’s not bad, but you could work on your face-offs. Your percentage is brutal.”
Chase blinked a few times and looked at Brent, who was laughing. “She sounds like Coach, man!”
“I know, isn’t it great?” Brent said. “I told you she knew her stuff.”
Berkley was confused. She certainly thought she did, but how did Brent know that?
She hadn’t realized she’d asked him out loud until he said, “Well, in an effort to figure you out, I did some hardcore stalking of your social media.”
Chase opened his mouth, probably to insult Brent, but before he could get a word out, “Faithfully” by Journey came on. Brent took the opportunity to grab Berkley’s hand and drag her onto the dance floor, not that she wasn’t a willing participant. How could she possibly turn down the chance to press her body against his? Her heels gave her just enough height to wrap her arms comfortably around his neck. He settled his hands on her lower back, and they slowly swayed to the music.
Wrapped in his arms, Berkley was enveloped in Brent’s cologne, an intoxicating mixture of citrus, bergamot, and cedarwood. She had the sudden urge to bury her nose in his chest and inhale deeply, but she refrained.
Call her crazy, but something about being around Brent felt right. Was she allowed to have thoughts like that after spending less than an hour around him? The fact that this man, Brent freaking Jean, was giving her the time of day was a miracle. She’d milk it for all it was worth.
Even if there was a tiny voice in the back of her mind warning her to tread lightly. She told it to shut up and let her enjoy this moment.
When she saw her friends pointing and making inappropriate thrusting motions from across the room, she flipped them off, hoping Brent didn’t see. He hadn’t, and instead pulled her closer and rested his chin on the top of her head. When the song ended, he led her to the edge of the dance floor.
“I hate the cut this short,” he said, “but we’ve got early practice tomorrow before we head out to California, so I’ve gotta get home and get some rest.”
Fighting her disappointment, she smiled. “I understand.” She did, but she didn’t. She wanted more time with him. A few hours in a crowded club wasn’t enough.
“I’ll see you soon, right?” he asked hopefully, hunching his shoulders as if bracing for an answer he didn’t want.
She put her finger to her chin, contemplating the idea. “Sure,” she said.
He grinned down at her. “Awesome. Give me your phone.”
