Page 66 of Go Deep (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)
‘Please call me. We need to talk.’
‘I miss you. I miss my best friend.’
‘Shawn, I need you. I need to talk to you. Call me.’
The texts got pretty desperate, but he never messaged or called back. I was happy for him, though. He was talking to Miranda, and she spent a few hours after practice with her face glued to the phone as they messaged each other back and forth like a couple of high school kids. It was cute. I loved the way it made her eyes light up. Still, I did want to borrow my best friend back from Miranda every once in a while, just to vent and to hear how he was doing. I missed him more now that I’d gotten the wake-up call about Slade. Still, he didn’t reply to a single text so it was my time to deal with the repercussions of what I’d cause him.
* * *
Miranda gotup to get a drink from our minibar fridge. Her thumbs were probably worn out from texting Shawn too. Before she picked up her phone again, she sat at the edge of my bed.
“What happened with Slade?”
“What?” It felt like that question had come out of left field.
“You know, before practice?”
I looked at her and just shook my head. “He and his football buddies and their frat brothers are all a piece of work.”
“You’re only figuring that out now?”
“Good point.”
“Look, I’m sure he did something stupid, but maybe you need to cut him some slack.”
“Me cuthimsome slack?”
“What you did at practice, calling him out like that, it was wrong. That was a bitch move right there.” She wasn’t holding any punches today.
“I didn’t say what I should have, and even if I did, he deserved it. I’m not apologizing or giving anyone any slack.”
“Why?”
“Because my ass is not a freaking table game at the casino.”
She laughed.
“Why do you think that’s funny?”
“Because it is. Lighten up. We’re at college. Guys do that all the time, and trust me, Slade won’t be the last to make a bet on your ass. Sure, it was stupid, but that bet was going long before you two warmed up to each other, and when you two finally clicked, he called it off. By then too many people knew, and that Evan…well, he’s Evan. He stirs up shit for breakfast.”
“Slade could have come clean.”
“True, but he’s a guy. It was just a dumb joke.”
“What if it had been you?” I asked.
She raised her eyebrows. “Look at me, Cassidy. It’s Miranda you’re talking to. If I gave a crap about what those jocks think of me, I’d never go over there for the free beer. I’d have hung myself by now. I’d be one of the damn ghost stories around here. You just have to roll with it. I roll with every damn thing people throw at me, but at the same time, I know when it’s just joking and when they’re being assholes.”
“I don’t know. What about all those times he ditched our project meetings or never returned my texts?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but he’s been bussing tables for his landlord.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I went out to eat with some people in one of my classes and I saw him. The frat house owner went apeshit about some furniture Slade damaged at one of the keg parties.”
“When did this happen?”
