“What? Naps are awesome. And don’t pretend you weren’t about to doze there on the couch.”
He’s got me there. “Sure.” I give my brother a wink. “I’ll take over your guest room while you do whatever you need to. Wake me up when you get back?”
“You got it.”
NINETEEN
KASEY
Iwake up from my nap and rub the sleep from my face before stepping into the living room to see if Aaron is back, but instead of finding my brother, it’s Dominique who’s returned.
He stands next to the window, dressed to the nines in a dark gray suit.
Woah.
My mouth goes dry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dominique dressed up like this. Not in person, at least. His pants are a dark charcoal gray, the seams pressed into tight, crisp lines down his legs. He’s paired it with a black, button-down shirt and a gray vest. His tie is another shade of gray, a little lighter and with a sheen. It’s wrapped in an intricate knot at his throat. Not one of those simple two-second styles you see guys wear to prom or a wedding. This one has layers and folds and somehow makes Dominique appear more mature. Almost regal. Like he’s someone to take seriously.
An expensive-looking tie clip glints in the low light, studded with tiny stones I know have to be real. A glance at his wrists shows an equally expensive pair of cufflinks. Monogrammed with his initials.D.P.
I ignore the inappropriate thought that pops into my head and scan the rest of the room, spotting the suit jacket draped elegantly over the back of the sofa. Looks like he’s pulled out all the stops.
Dominique keeps his gaze trained out the window, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s waiting for someone to arrive. Who could it be?
“Going somewhere?” I ask and step out from the hallway.
His head jerks up and an almost guilty expression flickers across his face before he masks it. “The team has this thing tonight.” He waves a hand dismissively through the air. “A charity dinner I have to go to.”
Oh.Realization dawns on me. “The McIntire dinner?”
His dark brown gaze flicks to mine and he adjusts his cufflinks. “Yeah. Didn’t think you’d know about that.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and plaster on a fake smile. “Some of the Kappa Mu girls are going with players on the team,” I tell him and force out a laugh. “Quinn ran all over the house getting ready today.”
It’s all she’s been talking about this week. How excited she is to go. What a big deal being invited to the McIntire dinner is. I guess a lot of snooty business execs will be there, so it’s as much of a networking opportunity as it is a social event.
Dom grunts, but doesn’t comment, and I wrack my brain for any details Quinn might have mentioned. I didn’t pay close attention when she talked about it. I know one of the defensive lineman asked her to go. She said something about every team member getting an extra ticket to bring a plus one. It’s why the girls threw so many parties this past week. They wanted as many chances to show off for the players as they could get to land one of the coveted plus one seats.
The McIntire dinner is a big deal to a lot of people on campus, and tickets for attendees—outside of the team who are obligated to attend—are expensive. Something like five-hundred dollars per person since it’s a boujie charity thing. But every guy on the team gets a plus one. That’s what Quinn said.
Dominique never mentioned it and he didn’t ask me to go with him, which means he’s taking somebody else as his date. A stab of hurt slams into my chest and I shove it away.
What do I care? I would have said no, anyway. Formal dinners aren’t my scene, and it’s not like we’re dating.It’s just sex,I remind myself. But the blooming ache just beneath my ribs disagrees with me.
Chewing my bottom lip, I ignore the needles pricking the backs of my eyes and repeat all the reasons this shouldn’t matter in my head.
We are not a thing. We aren’t dating. We’re fuck buddies and sort of friends and Dominique doesn’t owe me anything. Our relationship, if you can even call it that, is a secret. Going out together, on a public date of all things, to a fancy event where a bunch of people we know will be, would blow our situation out of the water.
That’s why he didn’t ask me. He couldn’t. There’s no reason to feel blindsided.
Dom always has a date at these things and as far as I know, it’s always been the same woman on his arm.
There’s a knock at the door before it swings open and a woman I vaguely recognize pokes her head inside. “Knock knock.”
Her.
Tamara steps into the room and I suck in a sharp breath. She’s even prettier in person. The stupid high school girl inside of me hates her straight away. We’ve never met. I’ve only ever seen her in pictures. And if I see another one of her again, I am going to viciously X out her face or tear off her head before throwing the damn thing away.
“Are you all set?” she asks, her attention solely focused on Dominique. And just,wow.Does she have to be so pretty? She’s petite, around my height, but a hell of a lot curvier in all the ways men appreciate. She has a large chest. A full D cup at least, and her cleavage is off the charts. Even I can’t stop staring at it.
