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All of the noise and commotion surrounding us fades to the background as our gazes stay locked. I have no idea what to make of the peculiar energy crackling in the air between us. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
It’s only when she blinks and glances across the table at the hockey player watching us with growing interest that I plummet back to Earth with a painful thud. The slow smirk curling around the corners of his lips instantly raises my hackles.
Sasha shifts before carefully inching away. Every centimeter of distance between us feels like a mile.
I don’t like it.
It takes all of my willpower to stop myself from reaching out and dragging her closer.
Her hand flutters nervously as she gestures to the guy parked across from us. “Ryder asked if I wanted to go out for dinner.”
When I continue to give him a well-honed death stare, the asshole actually has the audacity to grin as if this is some kind of game.
“Nice of you to crash our date, Clark. Why don’t you take a load off and join us?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, I ground out between clenched teeth, “This isn’t a date.”
His gaze flickers to Sasha. “Sure, it is. Right, sweetheart?”
I throw my arm around her shoulders and haul her close just so he doesn’t get any more delusional ideas. Although, by the looks of him, he’s already got them.
That’s all right. I have no problem beating them out of him. In fact, it would be my pleasure. But before I can crack my knuckles and rise to my feet, the guys I arrived with gather around the table.
There’s a chorus of greetings before Carson waves me over. “Come on, man. They’ve got a table ready for us.” With a scowl, he glances at Asher. “No thanks to this dumbass. If I had to guess by that chick’s intense dislike for our man here,” he slaps him on the back, “it must have been a fuck and flee situation. She would have refused us service if she could have gotten away with it.”
Unsurprised, I shake my head before giving Sasha a little side-eye. There is no way in hell I’m abandoning ship and leaving her alone with this fuckwad.
“No need, there’s more than enough room here.” Sort of. “Why don’t we join Sash and Ryder?”
Carson glances from me to the hockey player lounging on the seat across from us as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. The blond football player’s brows pull together as if he’s assessing the situation before his attention once again settles on Sasha. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Umm—”
I squeeze her against me, cutting off her response. “Are you kidding? She doesn’t mind at all.”
Carson ponders this for a moment before shrugging. “Sure, all right then.”
The booths are long enough that it’s not a problem to squeeze three guys semi-comfortably in on one side. Asher and one of the sorority girls pile in beside Ryder, while Carson slides in next to me. Crosby pulls up two more chairs for himself and the other blonde. The rest of the guys grab a nearby table to camp out at.
Once we’re all situated, the waitress arrives to take our order. It’s unfortunately the same chick from the hostess station.
This doesn’t bode well for us.
Or our tacos.
She takes her time going around the table, writing down everyone’s order. When she gets to Asher, she gives us all a slight smile before swinging away.
“Hey,” he calls out, deep voice rising above the noise in the dining room. “What about me?”
She spins around to face him before cocking a brow. “What about you?”
“I’d like to place an order.” His voice hardens. “Is that going to be a problem?”
A thick blanket of tension settles over us as she shrugs and folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t know. Is it?”
Instead of responding, his lips settle into a tight line as his eyes narrow. It’s not an expression I’ve seen often from him. The guy is normally easy going and chill. He doesn’t get bent out of shape over much. And why should he? Life has been pretty easy. From what I understand, he comes from money. Even though he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, he manages to skate through his classes each semester. And the girls flock to him like he’s the pied piper of pussy. The guy must be a real rock star in the sack because his bed is never empty.
How do I know this?
