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“You were waiting for her ass,” Jackson says, like that explains everything. “That’s how I feel about Ellie, at least.”
I think of Ava and how I chased after her. Was that the wrong move? I’m not a chill dude. I can’t wait for things to happen to me. I’m the one who’s always making it happen.
And maybe that’s where I fucked up with Ava. I forced myself on her and she had no choice but to be with me.
Maybe we were never meant to be.
“How many people are coming to this party tonight?” I ask, desperate to get my mind off Ava.
“I don’t know. A lot.” Jackson grins. “We invited at least fifty, and told them to invite their friends. With over five thousand square feet, this place can accommodate them.”
“Damn, that’s a lot of potential people.” Caleb glances around. “They could fuck this place up.”
“I’m not worried,” Jackson says easily. “If it ends up a mess, I’ll hire someone to clean it.”
“Must be nice to not have to worry about money,” Caleb says.
“You have no idea,” Jackson says. “You’ll be there someday, my friend.”
Maybe Caleb will, maybe not. I don’t think any of us will know what it’s like to have the sort of money and fame Jackson has.
“You’ve got us all beat,” I tell Jackson. “Mr. Fancy Leather Pants Rock Star.”
I will never let him live down the leather pants he wore in a music video last year. So tight I swear I could make out the outline of his junk, which he denied, but come on.
Women went nuts for those leather pants. He has legions of female fans.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says good-naturedly. “You’re just mad you’d never look as good as me in leather pants.”
“What the hell ever,” I mutter, all of us laughing.
“And don’t count yourself out. You’re about to embark on an NFL career,” Jackson says.
“True,” Caleb adds.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
I don’t know if it’ll actually happen. I’d love to play for a professional team, but could I stand the pressure? Could I actually make it onto the team? All that old doubt resurfaces like it always does and I try my best to shove it away, but it’s hard.
Tomorrow’s game is important—we need to clench our position in the playoffs, and every game matters. This means we’re drawing closer to playing in a college bowl—with me as the quarterback. The last time that happened, Ash Davis took us. This season, it’s on me. It’s my last shot for glory. I don’t want to choke up and lose. What if I keep losing? What if my chance at a bowl win is lost? All thanks to me?
I can barely stomach the idea. I need to focus. No drinking tonight. They all say I need to get fucked up so I can forget my problems, but fuck that.
I’m having a calm evening, catching up with Brenden and the rest of these assholes, and I’m going to crash early. Jackson offered me a bedroom to stay the night in and I took him up on it. I can leave first thing in the morning with plenty of time to get to the stadium for the game. It’s all set up perfectly.
I can’t let anyone distract me from the end goal. Not even Ava.
Especially not myself.
Twenty
Ava
The house where Jackson and Ellie are having the party is so large that it’s been relatively easy for me to avoid Eli all night. I only spotted him once since the party started. We made eye contact in the crowded game room on the ground floor, his gaze flickering up and down my body, not bothering to hide that he was checking me out.
My skin heated and I stood taller, thrusting my chest out. Wanting him to get a good look at what he’s missing out on. Me dressed as a cowgirl in extra-short denim shorts, a tank top that barely contains my breasts, with an old flannel I dug up in my closet thrown on over it and tied at the waist. The cowboy boots I’m wearing I borrowed from Gracie and they’re pinching my feet, but damn it, I look good. I feel powerful. Pretty.
Sexy.
