Page 10 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
“Yeah, well, explosive diarrhea doesn’t really make for good party conversation.”
“You paint such a beautiful picture with words, Cole.”
But there’s an edge to his voice, like he’s not quite ready to let go of whatever happened at the party. His knee’s bouncing, the onlytell he’s got left from when we were kids. Most people wouldn’t catch it, but I’ve been watching Liam’s nervous tics for years.
I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Come on. Who was she?”
He goes still for just a second, another tell, before that cocky grin spreads across his face. “Total knockout. Not my usual type, though.”
That gets my attention. Liam’s “type” has always been pretty broad: breathing, available, and preferably not looking for anything serious. The fact that he’s even categorizing someone as different is interesting.
“Name?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He says it like she’s some kind of state secret, but there’s something flickering in his eyes. Something protective. “I’m not gonna jinx it, man.”
Jinx it. Like there’s something to jinx beyond a one-night-stand.
The last time I heard Liam talk like this was two years ago, sophomore year, when he dated that girl from his European History class for a whole month. Penelope something. It was a record for him, and he spent the entire four weeks acting like he’d discovered something amazing. Then she transferred schools, and he went right back to his usual rotation.
It’s always been our dynamic, Liam’s chaos to my calm, his quantity to my quality. He gives me shit for dating the same girl for more than a few weeks, I give him shit for never learning anyone’s last name. It works.
The locker room starts filling up with the rest of the team, and naturally they zero in on Liam’s obvious good mood like sharks smelling blood.
“Liam’s looking mighty pleased with himself,” Cade calls from across the room. “Finally find yourself a keeper?”
“Or did you just get really lucky?” This is from Kelly, who’s pulling his practice jersey over his head.
Liam soaks up the attention like he always does, but he’s not oversharing like usual. “Let’s just say she was trouble.”
The pride in his voice catches me off guard. Normally when Liam talks about his hookups, it’s all about how easy the conquest was, how quickly he charmed his way into someone’s bed. This sounds different. Like he’s actually impressed by whoever this girl is.
I find myself curious despite my better judgment. Part of it’s genuine interest in my best friend’s life, but another part is wondering what kind of woman could shift Liam’s entire energy in the span of one night.
Not that it’s any of my business. Liam’s hookups have always stayed Liam’s business. It’s an unspoken rule we’ve never had reason to break.
Liam’s voice snaps me back to the present. “Cole…”
I don’t hear the rest of his words. “I’m just wondering if I need to start planning your wedding,” I deadpan.
He snorts. “Slow your roll there, best man. It was one night.”
But the way he says it, the way he won’t tell me her name, means this one wasn’t just one night, and if it goes south, then we’re going to be in deep shit.
Before I can dig deeper, Coach bursts through the locker room doors like a man on a mission, immediately launching into his usual speech about upcoming drills and the game for next weekend. I force myself to focus, taking mental notes about the new plays he wants us to work on.
Liam, on the other hand, is fucking chipper. It’s getting on my nerves he’s not spilling. He’s got that same secretive smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and I catch him absently spinning something around his finger under the table. Looks like a hair tie.
Huh.
By the time Coach wraps up his sermon and stalks back to his office, most of the guys have cleared out. It’s just me and Liam finishing up our usual routine—him bitching about the new defensive plays, me reminding him that maybe if he paid attention instead of daydreaming about pussy, he’d have an easier time with them.
“You’re hilarious,” he says, shouldering his gear bag. “Really. I don’t know how I survived before I had your sparkling wit to guide me through life.”
“Natural talent, baby.”
We head out to the parking lot together, trading the same easy insults we’ve been throwing at each other for years. It’s comfortable, our solid weight of a friendship that’s survived everything from losing seasons to that regrettable incident freshman year when we both had a crush on the same girl in our math class.
Liam’s been my wingman, my voice of reason when I’m overthinking, my partner in crime for four years running.
