Page 2 of What Are The Odds?
Ryan the fucking idiot. I didn’t let my frustration show though. I shrugged.
“So?”
“So,” a guy spat, stepping forward. “He can’t go around hooking up with people’s girlfriends and expect there not to be consequences.”
I assumed this was the running back. I sized him up. He was barely six-foot. Every single guy on my team had him covered. And most were surrounding me. Just like most of Ryker’s were surrounding him. I glanced down at the running back.
“You should be focussing on why your girlfriend feels theneedto lock herself in bathrooms with other guys.”
Wrong thing to say. The running back’s ears turned red. He stepped towards me, but Ryker held out his arm, halting his teammate. He didn’t want a fight tonight. And as much as I hated these guys, neither did I. Both our seasons had started. The game suspensions our coaches would pass on if news got out the two teams had brawled wasn’t worth it.
“Keep your boys in check, Holloway,” Ryker seethed.
“Train yours to keep a woman happy, Richardson,” I deadpanned.
I forcefully encouraged Ryan to move on. He loved having the last word, but right now our two teams were on a very thin layer of ice. As I ushered him away, he winked at the running back, causing a new stream of murmurs. He was a smug bastard. Once back at our table, I shoved him into my seat and slid a water his way.
“Do you have to make my life harder?” I growled.
He shrugged. “She was pretty hot.”
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Veronica who was still waiting.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
“You too,” I said, slapping Ryan over the shoulder.
“No way. I’m just getting started.”
There wasn’t a chance in hell I was leaving him unaccompanied. I’d barely get ten minutes down the road before getting a call to come back. Morrison returned with my beer, setting it down. Damn. I’d forgotten. I guess we were staying a bit longer.
“Twenty-minute warning,” I told Ryan.
Grinning, he jumped from his chair and headed back toward enemy territory. He was going to be the death of me.
Tripp nodded at the screen. “This game is mental.”
“The Australian crowd are always asking for it on,” Morrison said. “But for the life of me I can’t figure out how it works.”
When I heard a commotion, I instinctively checked over my shoulder, expecting Ryan to be making a mess again. Luckily he hadn’t got far. He was at the table with the Australians, chatting to a girl about the game she was watching. She said something before gesturing to her friend, the girl dressed in too many layers. The over-dressed girl didn’t move her focus off the screen. Apparently the game was much more interesting to her than the opportunity to talk to Ryan Murphy. Good for her. His ego could handle the knock.
Veronica tickled her sharp nails over my crutch before bringing her lips to my ear. “Chug the beer, Levi. I have an early lecture.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I shot it back, swallowing in three large gulps. Veronica’s eyes glistened as she watched me. I had my tells too. She wouldn't be here for a repeat if she hadn’t been impressed each time before. I walked over to Ryan and clamped my hand on his shoulder.
“Outside,” I ordered. “Now.”
Ryan whined. “It hasn’t been twenty-minutes.”
The girl dressed in too many layers momentarily tore her focus away and studied Ryan and me. Her blue eyes looked me up and down. Usually appreciation followed, but she gave me nothing. Whatever. Veronica’s pursual meant my confidence was still sky-high. She was the girl on campus who featured most in guys’ wet dreams.
“Grace.”
The over-dressed girl averted her gaze to focus on the guy with the drinking rules.
“Hawkins scored. Have a drink.”
