Happenstance(13)

Sex guy is stronger than I thought.

“Not so fast,” Banks says, visibly trying to hold on to his patience. “Let’s just finish our drinks and figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” I question him, warily.

“What happened up there,” Banks explains, taking the orange peel garnish out of his beer and tossing it onto the napkin. First, he looks at Tobias. “This sort of thing might be typical for you, but I’ve never shared a woman like that.”

“Me neither,” I say, trying not to think too hard about the curve of her butt in my lap. The way she pushed it up against me and grinded, slowly, wiping my brain clean. “I don’t really want to start now, either.”

Their eyes snap to mine. I’ve put them on guard.

That’s fine. I don’t have a lot of friends. Not like my brother does. I’ve gotten used to being the odd man out. I just really don’t want that to happen with Elise. Something really deep in my stomach tells me she’s important. How this situation is handled is important.

“And there’s the elephant in the room,” Tobias drawls, rapping his knuckles on the table. “We were all…affected by this woman. We all want to sleep with her.”

“If you don’t think it was more than that, you weren’t there,” Banks states.

Tobias becomes fascinated by his martini. A martini. Who is this dude? I have no business hanging out with him. But I’m more interested in what Banks said. Until now, I swear I had some kind of instant, cosmic connection with Elise.

What if it wasn’t only me, though?

“What do you mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Banks.

The rugby coach lets out an exhale, shakes his head. “I can’t find the adequate words to explain it. Except to say…she never felt like a stranger. Not for a single second. I wanted to protect her immediately. I wanted her to…”

“Like you?” Tobias supplies, seeming to shock himself. “Really, genuinely like you. Because she seemed like someone whose opinion matters.”

“Yeah,” Banks and I say at the same time.

We’re all trading wary glances with each other.

Shit. They do get it. I’m not the only one.



* * *



Tobias





* * *



Fucking hell.

What am I doing here?

As galling as it is to admit, I don’t think I’ve got a chance with Elise. She has definitely rubbed a few orgasms out to my impressive visage, but she thinks I’m a twat. Hell, I am a twat. Talking about sex and making filthy insinuations is part of my charm. However, I’m usually capable of turning it off in mixed company. Tonight? I couldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense. I wanted her to like me and yet, I couldn’t seem to stop doing the very thing that pissed her off.

Almost as if I resented the very need to be liked.

My therapist—the real reason I was on Roosevelt Island—would be impressed.

Whatever the reason I behaved like a boor, here I am, trying to be part of her fan boy club when I’ve all but obliterated my chance to sleep with her. And fuck me, I really, really want to sleep with her. There’s also the peculiar matter of wanting my chance at keeping her warm. The way Erection Boy and Banks did. That lost opportunity sits in my stomach now like a paperweight. So I drink my piss-poor martini and stay put, the chance of seeing her again keeping me glued to the booth.

Hopefully when I do see her again, this gnawing need to be somehow important to her goes away. Throughout my adult life, I’ve only been important to people if I’m making them money. In some cases, that wasn’t enough. They wanted more. As much as they could squeeze out of me, even if it came at the cost of a friendship. Because at the end of the day, no one really wants to be my friend, do they? They don’t like me, they like what I can do for them.

Sexually.

Financially.

This girl, this Elise, is the first person in a long time whose opinion made me give a shit.

“Right. We have the ID badge. That gives us her last name.” I lean back in my chair, oh so casual, though I’m feeling anything but. “Do any of us still use Facebook? We can probably find Elise there, send her a message.”

“There are two problems with that,” says the coach, immediately.

He’s the smart one.

Gabe is the muscle.

I’m the sexual riptide.

“One,” Banks continues, “who is going to message her? One of us? Or all three? Because it seems like three messages might overwhelm her and none of us will hear shit back.”

“Or she might only message back one of us,” Gabe points out.

“That’s a pretty sizeable risk,” I tell Gabe with a serious expression, completely taking advantage of his naivete, but listen, I am the Least Favorite of this pack and I’ll use every tool at my disposal. “You know how indecisive girls can be. Too many choices and they shut down.”

That’s all bullshit, but again. Least Favorite. I can’t risk her choosing before I have another chance to make an impression. Though I have zero guarantee I’ll do better next time.

Still…

“Probably for the best if we elect a representative to message her on behalf of all three of us,” I say. “Make a plan for all of us to see her again.”