He shakes his head. “Dude, relax. I was just making small talk. And my drink is mostly Sprite. There might be a splash of vodka in it; the bartender didn’t mind serving me. I gave him one hundred good reasons to believe that my fake ID was legit.”
Fucker. If he doesn’t grow up, this guy is gonna squander his talent.
I grab his glass and before he can realize what’s happening, I empty its contents into one of the potted plants that decorate the bar area.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Vaughn wails.
“Can you make my friend another sprite on the rocks?” I turn to ask the bartender. “Believe me, Heston, you’ll thank me later. You might think that your drink looked innocent, but if Coach smells alcohol on your breath, you’ll be riding the bench all season.”
It’s no surprise that Vaughn doesn’t appreciate my looking out for him. “Mind your own fucking business, Belkin. Vodka has no smell. Coach would have been none the wiser.”
“That’s what you think.” I scold him. “Look, see that man standing next to the mayor and Brett Bergen? That’sthe new town’s sheriff. Coach introduced me earlier when I came in. Let’s try to end the night without any problems.”
Rather than being grateful for the heads up, Vaughn barks out an arrogant laugh. “I’ve known Sheriff Hartman since I was born. He plays golf with my old man every Sunday. I doubt he’s going to arrest me, even if he caught me drinking.”
I forgot that, like Tucker, Vaughn is Star Cove born and bred. However, it’s more than obvious that their families move in very different social circles.
“Whatever.” I shrug. “Shoot me for trying to help you keep your nose clean.”
The arrogant smile on Heston’s face disappears. “Ok, ok. Thank you, I guess.” He rolls his eyes. “I suppose I could have a drink later if I want. My old man would prefer it if he didn’t get a phone call from the sheriff telling him I’m being a shithead. But since we’re in the business of giving each other unsolicited advice, you aren’t being as subtle as you think you are.”
“Come again?” I blink, confused.
“Come on, man. You’ve been looking at Prescott’s girl like you’re lost in the desert and she’s a cold bottle of water sticking out of the sand.”
Shit. I did think I was being discreet. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I’m not in the mood to discuss my love life, or lack thereof, with Vaughn Heston.
“Whatever.” He smirks. “I get it. Taryn is a bombshell. But I’ve never seen Tucker so taken with a woman. He even has the official shot of Taryn in her cheerleading candidate uniform hanging inside his locker. They’re probably keeping their relationship on the DL, but I don’t want you to get blindsided.”
He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. “Thanks, I appreciate the heads up.”
Coach is gesturing to the team to gather up to take a photo with Bergen and the mayor. For once, I’m more than happy to oblige if it gets me out of an uncomfortable conversation with Vaughn.
As I walk past a small group of cheerleaders talking to one of the guests, I catch Jodie’s eye.
Taryn’s best friend is looking at me as if I were a piece of hairy gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
It isn’t the first time I get the feeling that Jodie doesn’t like me. I didn’t know her that well at school in South Carolina. She dated one of my teammates for a couple of years. Andy was one of the first guys to treat me like a leper when I fell out of favor with Coach Hiddink. I guess his opinion of me might have influenced Jodie’s. There’s no other reason why she should look at me like that.
The evening is everything I imagined it would be. Boring AF, but the food is top-notch.
I’m not into schmoozing rich people to convince them to part with their money, but I’m not naïve. When I go pro, there are going to be dozens of nights like this one where I’ll have to impress the team owners or prospective sponsors.
At the end of the Michelin star dinner and the endless speeches that follow, I get up planning to sneak out. Tomorrow is one of the rare days off we’ll get this season—Coach Harrison doesn’t believe in days off apparently—and I want to catch up on some much needed rest.
As long as no one stops me to talk, I’ll be in the clear, having fulfilled what Coach expected of us.
A sigh of relief escapes me once I make it out of the room totally unnoticed.
I look for my keys in my pockets, but I gave them to the valet, so I need to make sure I have money to tip them.
All I have is a twenty-dollar bill, and while I’m not swimming in money, I guess these guys are used to fat tips, so I’d feel too embarrassed to ask for change.
If my senior year goes the way I hope, by this time next year, twenty bucks will be pocket change for me.
The same door I left the party from opens, letting out the chatter, laughter, and background music of the party that’s still in full swing.
But that isn’t what catches my attention.
