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"Yeah, he's been coming every year." Brent scrunches his face in mild confusion.
"Just concerned about underaged drinking," I clarify, lying through my teeth.
Brent shrugs. “I mean, look how many people are here. He doesn’t give a fuck about who’s drinking.” I chew on my bottom lip. "You and your friends are welcome to hang out all day, Liv."
"Thanks. It's just Mia and me today."
"Pryor? Oh, fuck yeah."
"Calm yourself. She's here to watch Matt play."
"Ahh, fuck. I forgot she was dating someone."
"Yeah, they're happily in love, even if they don't realize it yet." I laugh.
"Let me go get her, actually. I'll be back. Thanks for the save, Brent. I owe you," I say, giving him a quick hug. I'm speed-walking back to Mia, already itching to drag her back to Brent's friends when someone tugs on the back of my shirt, crushing me against a muscular frame. I pull away, yelling a slew of profanities as Nathan turns me around, pulling me in close.
"What the fuck?!" I push against his chest, trying to wrangle free.
"You go over there to tease me, Hamilton?" He gives me a wry smile.
"Let me go goddammit. I'm trying to get to Mia." I twist free and storm off only for the motherfucker to grab my wrist. I try again, this time pulling hard and landing in the arms of a stranger as he suddenly lets me go. Strong biceps encircle me protectively as he faces Nathan. I look up to stormy brown eyes that look like they're contemplating homicide. He hides his signature messy brown hair under a trucker hat, making him blend right into the landscape of frat boys. He smells masculine, woodsy, and like a glass of bourbon. Being enveloped in his scent and his warmth is a heady combination that goes straight between my thighs. I can't look at Nathan. I don't want him to see what I'm sure is loud and clear on my face, so I stare at DeLuca's brown leather boots and the way the dark wash straight leg jeans hug his muscular thighs.
Fuck, I shouldn't have looked. Back to staring at his boots, it is.
"She said let her go," DeLuca growls, rage seething in every syllable. Nathan doesn't respond, just fixes DeLuca and me with an icy glare. DeLuca grabs the wrist Nathan just had his grimy hands on and ushers me forward with a firm hand on my back. Just as we're almost out of earshot, Nathan yells.
"Does Daddy Dearest know you two are fucking? I'm sure he'd be proud of his whore daughter." I don't turn around to see the spiteful venom on his face. I struggle against DeLuca, ready to turn around and kill Nathan myself. He picks me up and carries me the rest of the way to Brent.
"Stay," he commands as he puts me down next to Brent. Again with the obedient dog foreplay I’m unexpectedly here for. Before I can get a word in edgewise, he turns around, storming away like a tornado making its way through town. So much for not making a scene. Nathan's pretty face looks smug, elated even, to get the rise out of DeLuca that he wanted.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter. "Should've been making popcorn, Brent."
Brent grunts a response as we watch DeLuca stop just short of Nathan's face. The pair size each other up like they’re weighing in for a boxing match. The immediate area grows eerily quiet as everyone's attention turns to Nathan and DeLuca. I silently curse, realizing there's no hiding this from my dad. Considering the impeccable timing of being pinned up against DeLuca's wall with the door closed with Dad right outside and now DeLuca likely to throw punches to defend my honor in front of most of the student body, it's going to get suspicious quickly.
"Here's what's going to fucking happen, Nathan. You're going to drop my class, and you're not going to even look in Miss Hamilton's direction again. If I hear that you're even breathing the same goddamn air as her, I'll rip your fuckboy throat out. Don't project your insecurities on me. I assure you that Miss Hamilton is not interested in me, and she's sure as fuck not interested in you. To answer your next question, yeah. This will get back to her dad."
My jaw drops and my heart stammers in my chest. Mia runs over, her expression a mirror of my shock. I don't know if I want to swoon, cry or both. I desperately try to blink back the angry, hot tears that are pooling in my eyes, but it's too late. Mia envelops me in a hug. Brent offers me another hotdog and Mia glares at him incredulously.
"Let's go, babe. Matt will understand this fucked up shit. We're going home to get day drunk." My eyes scan frantically, searching for where my unexpected knight went, but he's gone. Tomas simply vanished into the sea of rowdy college students. I'm left wishing he was whisking me through the crowd with him.
Chapter Eight
Tomas
Therewasapointin my life where if I closed my eyes and envisioned my perfect Sunday, I envisioned being tangled together with my wife under the covers as the smell of perfectly self-brewed coffee filled the house and the snow fell softly outside. Along the way, my life became a series of published papers. I imagined once I got published, it would be enough. Instead, once I got published became once I got published again, which became once I get the grant, the lab, the award, and now, once I get tenure. The itch is now a hollow void in the pit of my stomach that constantly tells me I'm not doing enough, that it's never really enough, and that it may never be enough.
This brings me to my office on a gloomy Sunday, just as it does every Sunday. Massachusetts weather is unpredictable, much like my moods. Maybe the sudden drop in temperature plummeted mine, too. I stare out the window of the lush green grass and tall oak trees. My office has the best view of the campus' serene landscape, which today does nothing to calm my spiraling thoughts. I can't help but wonder what if I'm running myself into the ground for nothing? I have these accolades, all of this praise, potential, adoration, yet outside of Tim, Brayden, and my parents, I have nobody to share it with. At thirty-five, I'm not getting any younger.
I rock back in my chair with my hands tucked behind my head. A figure runs by the window, snapping me out of my thoughts. I track her path. She's in tight leggings and just a sports bra, despite the low fifty-degree weather we're having. Her black hair sits in a messy bun high on top of her head, long legs striding gracefully, and I can't look away. I’m not sure how long I was staring, but it was long enough to startle me as her dad knocks once, then enters through the open door. I expect him to call us out for the moment he so rudely interrupted last Monday.
"DeLuca, fancy seeing you here on a Sunday morning."
"Yes, sir. Just trying to get some work done. How about you?"
"You know, business never sleeps." I nod as he squints and looks out the window. I feel a pang of guilt when I see the love and pride in his face as he watches her strides across the landscape. I'm in a position of authority. I shouldn't be ogling any college students–especially his daughter. My blood instantly boils again when my brain revisits Nathan fucking Bryne calling her a whore. I grind my teeth, praying James doesn't notice the shift in my demeanor as I focus back on the conversation at hand.
"Good to see Olivia is settling into her routine." He gestures with a nod towards the window and my eyes follow his gaze.
