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Fallon was his regular hook-up.
“I sense a but in there…”
“I dunno, man. It feels like it could be something, and honestly, not sure I want it.”
“What does she want?”
“Says she wants to keep things simple, but you know what girls are like. They say one thing and mean another.”
He wasn’t wrong there.
It’s why I avoided getting close. Letting myself fall for the old ‘I don’t want anything serious’ line. Because ninety-nine percent of the time, girls always wanted something serious. They just didn’t want to risk losing the something casual for the chance of being denied the something serious.
“Good luck with that, bro,” I said. “I’m out.”
“See you tomorrow.” He dipped his head in goodbye, and I made my way across the bar.
It was still busy, and I’d stayed later than I had planned. But after Harper and Coach’s weird exchange—the utter dejection in her eyes—I knew if I went back to the house, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
So I stayed and hung out.
I kept my head down, trying to make it out of the bar without getting accosted by a bunny or fan. I’d almost reached the door when a flash of blonde hair caught my eye.
Surely not.
I strained against the darkness, waiting for another flash of disco lights to give me a better view of the area carved out every weekend as a dance floor.
Harper was on her own, dancing with her eyes closed and arms extended high above her head. Fuck. She looked good, her hips rolling and swaying to the beat. As if she felt me watching, her eyes snapped open, narrowing.
For a second, I thought she might run. Turn around and disappear into the shadows.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she began dancing for me, sliding a hand up her chest and brushing her hand along her neck, taking the loose curls framing her face with it.
She was stunning. Utterly fucking stunning, and I couldn’t drag my eyes off her. Remembering how good she felt beneath me. How perfect she felt clenched around my dick as I fucked into her.
Shit. Now I was standing there like a creeper with a raging hard-on.
Until a guy stalked up behind her and started dancing with her, and the lust saturating my veins turned to blind fury.
Don’t touch her. Don’t fucking touch—
His hands were on her hips, dancing across the smooth expanse of skin as he dragged her body back into his.
I was already moving, storming through the crowd, when Harper slapped his hands away, staggering forward.
Shit. She was drunk. Really drunk if the way she almost tripped was any indicator.
Luckily, I was there to catch her.
“Ohmigod, thanks,” she hiccoughed, grinning up at me through hazy eyes. “M-Mason? Nooo. No. No. No.”
“You okay there, blondie?”
“I…” Another hiccough and then, “Mason, I don’t feel so good.”
“I got you.” I pulled her into my side, anchoring my arm around her waist.
