“I thought you were going to get more beer.” A new voice has my attention lifting from Archer’s scowl to a much friendlier face.
Merrick Thomas smiles as he spots me. We’ve never met, but my family are big enough Mavericks’ fans that I recognize him instantly. He’s bigger than Archer, and should be moreintimidating, but only one of them is glaring at me right now and it isn’t Merrick.
“You must be Sabrina,” Merrick says.
“You know who I am?”
He gives me a shy smile and I swear he’s blushing beneath his dark skin. “Brogan’s mentioned you a time or two.”
Okay then. It’s a strange feeling to have someone like Merrick know whoIam.
Merrick nudges Archer who finally tears his angry gaze away from me.
“Can you go instead?” Archer asks his teammate.
Merrick glances between us before nodding. “Sure. Text me what you want me to grab.”
“Thanks.” Archer finally moves out of the way so Merrick can pass, and I take the opportunity to slip by him as well.
The noise swallows me up as I step over the threshold, but Archer’s voice somehow manages to still cut through it. “Wait.”
I do but only because it’s his apartment too.
Slowly I turn back to face him. He’s in a black T-shirt and jeans with sneakers. A hint of a tattoo peeks out from the sleeve of his shirt on his left arm. It isn’t the first time I’ve noticed it, but I’m never quite able to tell what it is. I can’t explain it, but seeing it feels like it could solve a bit of the puzzle of who Archer is. He’s a mystery to me.
Brogan and Archer are best friends, have been since they were kids according to my brother. But even after almost a year of getting to know Brogan, I haven’t learned that much about the guy that means so much to him. Well, except for that he dislikes me.
Maybe he thinks I’m only interested in a relationship with Brogan because he’s a rich, successful football player. Which is laughable. It’d be a lot less intimidating if Brogan was just a normal guy with normal friends. Take tonight for example.Walking into a party of professional athletes is intimidating as fuck. Especially when one of them is so blatant in not wanting me here.
He runs a hand through his hair, giving me a glimpse of the hearing aid I know he wears on both ears.Shit. I forgot to sign. Now I feel like an asshole.
Archer is deaf, but Brogan says he’s great at lip reading anything his hearing aids don’t pick up. Still, I’ve always tried to make an effort to sign since I know how. I’m rusty from not signing with anyone in a while, but I know it’ll come back to me with a little practice. Although Archer doesn’t look like he’s all that eager to chitchat.
His jaw clenches as he stares back at me. Whatever he wants to say is interrupted by a loud, booming voice shouting my name.
“Sabrina!” Brogan has both arms lifted, waving to get my attention. The entire party looks my way, and I do my best not to blush a hideous shade of red that will clash with my hair.
“Hi.” I lift one hand awkwardly as Brogan weaves through the party to get to me. He doesn’t stop until he crushes me in a hug, lifting my feet off the ground and turning in a circle.
“Woah,” I say, nervous laughter trickling out. “This outfit doesn’t really do spinning hugs.”
He puts me down with a chuckle and I tug my skirt back down to a decent level. Brogan’s teammates are easy to pick out by size alone, all of them tall and muscular, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot a shorter, narrower woman among them. She smiles in a way that lights up her entire face and moves toward me without hesitation to stand next to her fiancé.
“You came!” London hugs me like we’ve known each other all our lives instead of less than a year. When she pulls back, her smile falters. “Sorry. Are you a hugger? I got excited. It’s so good to see you.”
If I weren’t a hugger, now would be a terrible time to admit it.
“Yeah, I’m a hugger and it’s good to see you too.” A small laugh escapes me as she visibly relaxes. “This is…”
“They’re a lot, right?” She takes my hand. “Don’t worry. You get used to it.”
I’m not a wallflower by any means, but this is an intimidating room.
“This is for you.” I hold out the champagne in my other hand. “Congrats on the engagement.”
London’s face goes soft. “This is so nice. You didn’t need to get us anything else. You already sent flowers.”
“My mother told me never to show up to a party empty-handed,” I admit.
