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“This is Lance. We went to college together at Grand. Lance, this is Casey, he’s a choreographer for the show I’m in. He was just doing a promotional shoot at the park across the street for one of his upcoming shows. Isn’t that a coincidence?”
“Sure is.” It’s a nice enough reply, but I play on the only words I truly heard. “Yep, old college pals,” I say, grabbing his offered hand with a firm shake as he sizes me up. I’m only too happy when I see him swallow.
That’s right, motherfucker.
“Just old pals. I played ball for her dad.” I nudge Harper with my shoulder. “Though he got a little pissed when she Snapchatted my dick to him.”
“It was your ass!” Harper says, close to hysterical as her eyes volley between us.
“That’s right, my bare ass. My bad, pal.” Casey is not at all amused, and I give myself a mental pat on the back. It’s a hell of a lot breezier conversation than I thought myself capable of. But my point has been made, and I can safely leave it there.
“So, what are your plans tonight?” Casey asks Harper, dismissing me as though he’s the bigger man. And maybe he is.
I hate everything about this situation but fight the inclination to show it.
Harper stands fish-mouthed for a few seconds. “Well, we’re…I was going to take Lance to—”
“I’m training tonight, so she’s free,” I toss in, which has them both turning my way. Casey looks satisfied while Harper looks over to me, stunned. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I’ve got a fight in less than a week. Can’t pass up a chance to train. Tony’s with me.”
“He is? Here in New York?”
“I told you I fought last night. Can’t do that without my corner.”
“Uh huh. But you said this was a charity fight coming up.”
“A fight all the same.” I shrug. “Gotta have my trainer.”
“A fight?” Casey asks.
“He’s a boxer,” Harper adds with pride, despite my shitty demeanor. She’s too proud of me to act any other way. “He’s got his first pro fight in a few months.”
Casey nods, eyes lingering on her face with the way she regards me. His disappointment is unmistakable, and I let myself have a little victory. I can see him mentally start to lay his weapon down before he persists, and I have to give him credit. He leans in toward Harper as I stuff my clenched fists in my jeans.
Casey tugs on her scarf. “Want to grab dinner?”
“I, uh,” Harper looks back to me.
“You go,” I speak up, unwilling to witness another second. I’m not giving up, but I’m tapping out before I let the thought of them gnaw at me. “I should head out now,” I say, pulling Harper in for a brief hug, ignoring the eagerness in her expression.
I look over to Casey. “Good meeting you, man.”
“Nice you finally showed,” he mutters dryly.
“What’s that?”
“Just as nice meeting you.” He’s no bullshit, and it’s clear he has a set of nuts on him as well. He tilts his head as if he’s trying to figure out my game while I keep my face as passive as possible. The hard part about becoming the man you want to be is owning the actions that entails. I’ve never been so fucking jealous in my life, but I know that if we are to ever have a future together, if we have any hope of having one anytime soon, I have to kill the territorial beast.
“See you later?” I ask Harper.
Harper slowly nods as I fight for every single step away from her.
“You left her, at her apartment, with a guy with a Moby Dick?” Tony asks, holding the bag.
“Yep,” I grunt, running a combo on the tattered sack.
“Why?”
