Page 37 of Playbook
If I had forgotten how good-looking he is—and I haven’t—I’d be struck with it all over again. He has this charm and aura about him. He gets better looking the longer you look at him. It’s his smile and this carefree approachability. He draws people in.
I know because I find myself walking toward him without ever making a conscious decision to do so.
Yes, I came here to meet up with him, but I think there was a small part of me that didn’t truly believe I’d go through with it even after I walked in and spotted him.
Just like the last time I saw him, it’s not easy to get to him. The area around the bar is filled with people and many have gravitated toward Brogan and his teammates.
I angle my body to squeeze past a group of girls forming a line, as if they’re the wall protecting any other females from getting to the hot football players. One of them shoots me a dirty look as I pass by.
My breathing picks up along with my heart rate as I get close enough that I can clearly hear his deep voice. His laughter is a big, boisterous noise that holds nothing back.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot someone else approaching him at the same time as me. The woman moves at a much faster pace than me. Boldly, she stalks right up to him. They exchange words. Him leaning down and her tipping her face up to speak only to him.
My steps falter. It feels like a bad time to go up to him, even if he did invite me, so I wait. Brogan nods his head and smiles as the woman stops talking, then Brogan leans over the bar to ask something of the bartender. It all happens quickly, but my anxietyspikes as I stand alone, uncertain of my next move.
The bartender hands over a shot of something to Brogan. I assume he’s just buying the woman a drink, but when he passes it over to her, she settles it between her cleavage. And then the guys all around him cheer and holler as she tips her chest up to him. He runs a hand along his jaw, that ever present playful grin on his face. I’m not sure he’s going to do it, but then she reaches up and grabs that gorgeous head of hair of his and buries his head in her breasts.
Judging by the hoots and laughter, he took the shot, but I march up to the bar, ignoring them completely. It’s funny in awhat else did I expect from a guy who is getting panties sent to himkind of way. I knew this was his life but seeing it eight feet in front of me is a whole other thing. And I know that getting involved, even for one drink, is not for me.
“Can I get a shot of tequila?” I yell over the noise.
A large body knocks into me.
“Oh shit, sorry,” he says. His hands go to my waist as he steadies me. Those dark brown eyes meet mine and a slow smile spreads across his face. “London. You made it.”
“Yep. Here I am,” I say cheerily, stepping out of his hold. His busty friend is nowhere to be seen. “Just in time to see your no-hands shot-taking abilities.”
His mouth draws into a line. He has a great mouth with full lips and straight, white teeth. “I’m sorry about that. She came up to me and?—”
“Don’t care.” I hold up a hand so he doesn’t try to continue. “Look, it’s fine. Actually, no. It’s not fine. I don’t know why I said that.” A frenzied laugh escapes from my lips. “What kind of guy asks a girl to meet him for a drink and then decides to do a fewbody shots while he waits?”
I give him a full second to answer, but he must not know what to say. There really is nothing to say. I shouldn’t have come and we both know it.
“God, you really are good. You got me a little with the whole halftime call bit. Do you do that often? It’s perfect. Don’t change a thing.”
The bartender sets my shot in front of me.
“Thanks,” I say, then tip my head toward Brogan. “This is on him.”
I toss the drink back, ignoring the burn all the way down my throat. The liquor coats my insides with a rush of warmth. I will not cough and ruin this. “Thanks for the drink. We’re absolutely even now.”
I turn on my heel to head for the exit, brushing past him. I hear him calling my name, but I’m small and weave through people quickly to put distance between us. I finally cough and blow out a breath that feels like fire. Tequila was a bad choice. I’m full of those tonight.
I’m almost to the door when a familiar head of perfectly gelled hair walks through it. I’m so surprised to see him that it actually takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up. I suck in a breath as Chris stops and scans the bar, much like I had when I walked in.
I sidestep to hide behind a group of guys, peeking out to make sure I haven’t been spotted. And then I see her. Chris’s girlfriend.
She’s nearly as tall as him, with long blonde hair and perfect features. She has that bored, beautiful expression on her face, the kind that fills the pages of magazines. My stomach twists and I feel an odd sense of jealousy even though I’d never want Chris back in amillion years. It still hurts to see him moved on with this gorgeous woman when I haven’t.
Admitting it sucks. The end of our relationship devastated me and though I’ve healed the hurt and realized I’m better off, I haven’t taken the next steps out of fear. I never want to feel the way I did then ever again.
I must stare at him too long from my hiding spot because Chris’s gaze flicks in my direction and we lock eyes. I squeak and duck fast behind the group, knocking into one guy who gives me a peculiar look when he sees me hunkering down and using him as a shield.
“Sorry,” I mutter, and then stick my head out again hoping Chris didn’t really see me. We lock eyes again. Dammit.
His brow is furrowed as he speaks to his girlfriend and then they walk in my direction. Oh no. No, no, no.
Of all the bars, Chris just had to be at this one tonight.
