The Friend Zone (Game On, #2)(41)

“Red Dogs!” we all shout as one. We always do. But this feels like rote instead of enthusiasm.

In the huddle we’re subdued. Fucking subdued. Intolerable.

“Hey,” I shout over the noise of the crowd. “With sufficient thrust, even pigs fly.”

They look at me like I’m crazy.

“What the f*ck, G?” Diaz shouts back with a confused snort.

“We gonna make those pigs fly.” I nod toward the defense taking their positions. “When we knock the shit out of them.”

The guys start to smile but our old spirit isn’t quite there.

Cal’s head snaps up. There’s a gleam in his icy eyes that none of us have seen before. It’s like he’s flicked an internal switch and it’s lighting him up from the inside. “We’re going to win. Because we f*cking own this game.”

He isn’t Drew. Never will be. He doesn’t have a shit-eating grin or a cocky attitude. But he has something else: a quiet authority that demands respect. We all seem to feel it in our bones. Because suddenly we’re all grinning. Energy ripples over the huddle, making us squeeze closer together, rumble with agreement. My old friends, anticipation and adrenaline, return with a vengeance, drawing my balls up tight and lifting the hairs on the back of my neck.

Cal looks over us, his voice stronger than I’ve ever heard it as he calls the play. He finishes with a sharp, “Go Dogs!”

Which we echo. And then break. At the line, a defensive back snarls at me, trying to intimidate, talking shit I don’t bother listening to. I just grin. Because I’m about to smoke his ass. Game f*cking on.





Twelve





Gray


Despite the victory high that still rushes through my veins, I decide to go back to my room and order room service instead of going to a local club with the guys to party. The idea of being out holds little appeal. What would I do? Dance? Hook up with some girl?

I can’t dance anymore without thinking about Ivy’s horrific moves and wanting to see them again. And the thought of touching someone other than Ivy does absolutely nothing for me. Scratch that, the thought of touching someone else makes my dick want to retreat like a turtle into its shell—an image that creeps the ever-loving hell out of me, but there you go.

When I make my intentions known, Johnson tries to check my brow, convinced that I am coming down with something. I slap his hand away. Dex just turns his attention to picking out a place to go. Unfortunately Drew and Anna are with us. Their knowing looks chafe. I’d given Drew hell when he’d started foregoing clubs because he was clearly gone on Anna. So I am not surprised when he leans close to Anna and says in a voice obviously meant to carry, “Fifty bucks says he calls her within the hour.”

Anna’s green eyes narrow as she slants a look at me. “Gray does like his food, though. I’m thinking he’ll eat first, then call.”

“And I’m thinking you both can kiss my left—” Drew’s elbow to my gut cuts off my words.

Scowling and rubbing my admittedly empty belly, I leave them to their night, almost making it to the elevator before Anna calls out, “Give Ivy my best!”

I flip Anna the bird as the doors close on their laughter. But I’m not really pissed. They’re right; I am going to call Ivy. I cannot f*cking wait to hear her voice. Her absence is an emptiness in my chest.

However, Anna knows me well, because I order room service as soon as I get to my room. After a hot shower, my food is here. I don’t bother dressing but settle down to eat. I could call Ivy now, but I hold off, playing a waiting game with myself. How long can I take it? How much do I need her?

The questions roll around in my head as I chomp down my steak with record speed. By the time I lay back on my bed and pick up my phone, my heart is thudding in anticipation of hearing her voice. In other words, I’m totally screwed. But I’m willing to dive in anyway.

She answers on the third ring.

“Heeee!”

“Jesus, my eardrums, Mac.” Despite the fact that my ear is ringing from her squeal, a huge grin pulls at my face.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just so fricking happy for you, Cupcake.”

And there it is: the warmth that’s been missing in the center of my chest. Still smiling, I rub the area as if to keep it from going cold again. “You watch the game?”

“You know I did. You rocked it.”

“Eh, I wasn’t bad.”

“Oh, sure, not bad at all. Only eleven pass completions, one hundred twenty-four yards, and two touchdowns.” Ivy’s voice is dry. “Are you fishing for compliments, Cupcake?”

I love that she knows the game.

“Maybe,” I say with a smile. “Would have been better if you were here.”

Ivy huffs. “Are you going to guilt me over this for the rest of our lives?”

“I don’t know. Are we going to be together for the rest of our lives?” My breath hitches at the thought of forever with her, and I laugh to cover it up.

But she doesn’t seem to notice. Her tone is as saucy as ever. “Not if you keep bitching like a cranky old man.”

I snort and stroke my chest in an idle rhythm. But it doesn’t really settle me. I’m too twitchy, my bent knee rocking as I talk to her. “We’re coming back tomorrow. Want to do something?”