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I held up my middle finger, trying not to cringe when I thought about trying to explain what happened last night to my friends.
To the club.
And my dad.
Fucking Lord help me.
“So you really just… kneeled to pick up her ring?” Bronson huffed, trying to get the words out while also attempting to outmaneuver me with his footwork.
“And suddenly… I’m engaged,” I told him, the both of us dancing back and forth as he looked for a way to slip by me.
“Lucky bastard…” He huffed, his breathing labored and irregular. “How do you find… these perfect women… when all I seem to get are gold diggers and socialites.”
I choked out a laugh. “Then stop hanging out with gold diggers… and socialites.” He passed the ball from one foot to the other, and on the third pass, I went for it, kicking forward and connecting, sending it flying back between his legs to where Reed was waiting.
“Fucker,” Bronson cursed, shoving me when I let out a triumphant laugh before we took off running a sprint to the other end of the field where Reed was about to face off with Sean for the goal.
“You kick like my grandma,” Sean taunted, his arms out wide, bouncing back and forth in front of the netted goal as Reed came closer and closer.
Reed paused, his foot on the ball directly in front. Bronson tried to come up behind him, but I dropped my shoulder and drove it into him, sending us both flying, hitting the ground hard.
“I think you underestimate your grandma,” Reed called back. “She’s strong, that woman. Real strong.”
I lay on the ground, fighting for breath. “Reed…”
“At least she was when I fucke—”
Sean threw his arms in the air. “My grandma is a sweet lady,” Sean protested, stepping out from the goal. “You really going to disrespect her like that?”
Bronson had his hand over his mouth, both of us watching from the grass, not even bothering to get up.
There was no point.
Reed’s smile was cheek to cheek, he was taking this shit all the way.
“Man, trust me,” he started, stepping back from the ball—a strategic move while he still had Sean wound up. “I respected the shit out of her last night—”
“You’re such an asshole,” Sean snapped, rushing forward just as Reed pulled his leg back. He skidded to a stop, but he was already too far out of the goal, and when Reed’s kick connected, it flew straight past Sean, sailing smoothly inside and bouncing off the net.
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Goal!”
“That was dirty,” Bronson said, getting up off the grass and holding his hand out to me. I took it and got to my feet. “But also genius,” he added with a chuckle.
We all headed to the side of the field for some water. I grabbed my bottle and leaned back against the bright red wall that lined the edge of the Boston University field, a large set of stands with hundreds and hundreds of seats standing tall behind me.
Bronson’s family was a huge sponsor of the university so they allowed us to use the field here if it was free. It was easy and didn’t draw any attention which we kind of liked.
“So what are you gonna do?” Sean asked, pulling himself up to sit on the wall. “Make a statement to say, sorry guys, all a big misunderstanding?”
I shrugged and dumped a splash of water over my head. “I dunno,” I answered honestly, shaking off the excess. “Truthfully, I’m not really sure at what point it stopped being some awesome one-night stand with no strings, to me walking into that fucking pool hall to help her get her friend out. I could havelet her walk out. But…”
“But you wanna date her,” Bronson cut in, reaching for his T-shirt. “Don’t blame you. So why not go for it?”
I wanted to see her.
I knew that much.
But I also knew she might have been aware of exactly what was swirling around in the media—the pictures, the stories, the theories about how we met that people were already beginning to speculate about—and she might not want anything to fucking do with it.
