Boyfriend Bargain (Hawthorne University #1)(21)

I shake my head. “You just assume I’m ready for a repeat, don’t you? I’m not looking to be your girl of the month.”

“Hmmmm. You sure? You like me.” He grins.

I shake my head. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Stop being so infuriating,” I say, my free hand on my hip.

“But it’s so fun to mess with you. I think you like it.” He reaches out and toys with a piece of my ponytail then pauses, looking at his hand in my hair, as if he’s surprised it’s there.

He drops it and stares. “Can’t seem to help myself.”

My mouth dries. I’m not sure how to respond.

His chest rises as he looks at me, and heat hums inside me.

Maybe he sees it on my face.

“Come on,” he says, his voice lowering. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t care where.”

My lower body clenches, and shit…

I suck in a shuddering breath. “I can’t. I’m going to see someone.” Mara.

“A guy?”

“Pfft. Maybe.”

“No boyfriend though?”

“I have friends.”

“Huh. I see. Okay.” He shrugs and takes off down the row, and I follow. “You know, I can walk you to meet your friend,” he offers, a glint in his eyes as he waits for me at the bottom of the stairs.

I squint up at him. “Jealous?”

He laughs. “No way, babe.”

Babe. The word sizzles around me and I want to burn shit down.

I give him my own nonchalant shrug as I walk past him. “Oh, yeah, you definitely are.”





10





Zack





“Your cat coughed up another fucking hairball,” Reece calls out as he marches out of his bedroom. Dressed only in snug zebra striped boxers with a pair of pink unicorn flip-flips on his feet—where does he buy these things?—he holds up one of his sneakers and shakes it in the air. His eyes land on me. “Right in my goddamn shoe. Do you have any clue how disgusting it is to feel that shit between my toes?”

Eric, who’s sitting on the couch watching The Bachelor, snorts. “Don’t leave your shoes on the floor.”

He shakes his head at Eric. “Where should I keep my shoes? On my bed? On the dresser? You might have a different answer if she puked on your stuff.”

“She likes me.” Eric shrugs, never taking his gaze off the TV as he throws more popcorn in his mouth. “Besides, nobody’s getting rid of Long John Silver. Since she showed up, we’ve had a good run.”

Except for the game where I lost my shit, but I don’t bring that up.

“That’s right, Reece. You can’t mess with a good luck cat. She’s our lucky charm,” I say, holding back a grin as he drops the shoes at my feet and glares. I lean over and pet her, her body currently curled up on the kitchen table while I study. “And she’s not my cat.”

“You named her and she sleeps with you. You, my brother, are a fucking cat owner,” he huffs, throwing his hands up, moody as hell. It doesn’t faze me. Reece is an emotional guy with a temper that flares hot but cools just as fast. I’m the same.

He’s also really into shoes.

“It’s hard to take you seriously with little pink unicorns on your feet,” I say dryly.

He ignores that. “Last week it was my practice jersey. The time before that it was my notebook.” He points a finger at Long John Silver. “The little monster has it out for me.”

As if sensing he’s badmouthing her, her tail flicks around agitatedly and she gives him a scratchy, “Meoooow.”

I look from her to him. “She said, It wasn’t me.”

Eric laughs from his perch in the living room. “Nah, she said, Fuck off, Reece, you’re the pussy here.”

He waves his hands at us. “Fine, fine, laugh all you want, but you just wait until she’s coughing up a loogie in your shoe.”

“At least it wasn’t a dump,” comes from Eric.

Reece glowers, and I give in and stand. “Come on, I’ll fix this. Give me the shoe, you big baby. I’ll throw it in the wash and it will be good as new.”

He sniffs. “I’m not an idiot. I can wash my own shoe, but if you could keep her out of my bedroom…”

I laugh. “Dude, just shut your door. Cats can’t reach the doorknobs. No thumbs.”

“Smartass,” he says. “I’m tired. Just done, I guess.” He rubs his shoulder. “And this shoulder isn’t doing me any favors. Couldn’t sleep a wink last night and all the doc gave me was Aleve.”

I nod. We’re all paranoid about injuries that keep us out of the game and prevent us from racking up stats.

He heads to our small laundry room where I hear him slamming the lid on the washer and starting it. A few minutes later he emerges from the hallway and heads to the fridge to grab a Gatorade.

“Let’s hit the gym tomorrow, and I’ll help you with some stretches.” I slide over the box of Cap’n Crunch I’m working on, and he sticks his hand in, pulls out a handful, and munches.

He plops down in the seat across from me. “Forget me—how are you doing? Didn’t you have another doctor’s appointment this morning?”