Jett nudged Harrison hard, silently begging him to stop before Blanchard turned that crazy temper on them, but Blanchard’s smile grew after hearing Harrison’s rude comment.
“Which girlfriend? You have to be specific.”
Harrison ignored him and started walking, tightly holding Jett’s hand as they headed toward the parked cars. People around them were doing the same, but other than glaring because they were Colts fans or waving excitedly, they didn’t bother them.
Jett readjusted his bag, almost jumping out of his skin when he turned his head and saw Blanchard walking beside him.
“Good game tonight,” said Blanchard. “My favourite part was the fights.”
“I believe it,” said Jett. “You drive Wolf crazy. He scribbles on your face with a permanent marker every time we get handed a magazine with your picture inside.”
Blanchard laughed loudly, making Harrison grumble with annoyance.
“Oh fuck, please give me his address so I can send him all the pictures from my future photoshoots. He’ll lose his goddamn mind.”
Jett shook his head. He couldn’t believe this guy.
“Blanchard, you’refucking insane.”
“Merde, Fraser—call me Bash if you want. I’m getting tired of hearing my last name all the time.”
“You wouldn’t have to hear him say your last name if you made like a horse and fucked off,” said Harrison. He pulled a key out of his pocket and pressed the fob button, lighting up a car nearby. “This is us. Go away.”
“Okay, okay,” said Blanchard. “I get it, Killinger. I’ll go back to my fancy sports car and leave you two alone.”
Harrison had to let go of Jett’s hand when they arrived at the car, but he paused at the driver’s side door before he slid inside. “Don’t come to our rescue ever again. You almost made me respect you, and I hate you for it.”
Then he was gone, and the door shut behind him.
“That means he likes you,” said Jett. “Don’t take him too seriously.”
Blanchard chuckled. “That’s good because I like him too. You got yourself a good-looking guy. No wonder you didn’t want to come home with me.”
“Holy fuck.” Jett fumbled for the door, but Blanchard beat him to it and opened it with a flourish, gesturing for Jett to get in.
Jett quickly opened the back door to shove his bag in and then got in the passenger’s seat, ignoring Blanchard’s chuckles.
“What is he saying about you going home with him?” Harrison asked, leaning close to glare at Blanchard through the open door.
“He didn’t—”
“I offered your boy a ride,” said Blanchard with a wink, because he had a fucking death wish. “But that was before I knew you two were together.”
Jett let his face fall into his hands. His cheeks felt like they were on fire.
“The offer still stands,” Blanchard continued, not caring that Harrison looked two seconds away from throttling him. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had two gorgeous guys in my bed.”
Harrison let out a long, haggard breath.
“Blanchard—in sixty seconds, I will turn on my car. If you’re still here when I put it in drive, I will run you over with it.”
Blanchardlaughed and shut the door, strolling away with his hands shoved in his sweater pockets.
“If he ever talks to you again, I’ll kill him,” said Harrison.
“And if you go to jail for killing Blanchard, I’ll kill you.”
Harrison turned the car on. “Fair.”
