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For some reason, it does. I could go upstairs and puke my guts out and this girl wouldn’t give a goddamn. She’d walk over my heaving body to get to the next football player who looked sideways at her.
I shake my head to clear it of the bizarre thoughts that have taken up residence inside my brain.
Seriously. What the hell is going on with me tonight?
“Hey, are you okay?” Brayden parks himself on the couch across from the velour chair I’m sprawled out on. Music pulses from the speakers in the dining room. “I just ran into Naomi. She said something about you having food poisoning and hurling all over the place.”
I roll my eyes before glancing around cautiously and admitting, “I told her that so she’d take off.”
He raises a brow before guzzling down a quarter of his water. “Well, mission accomplished. It’s doubtful she’ll ever look twice in your direction again.”
“That’s fine by me.” As the flippant words escape from my mouth, I realize that I mean them. Naomi is no different than any of the other groupies who hang around the house. They’re a dime a dozen.
My teammate studies me for a long moment. With any other guy, it might be uncomfortable, but I’ve known Brayden since football camp the summer after high school graduation. Three years later, he’s turned out to be a good friend. One I can count on. One I can be honest with.
Maybe.
“So, what you’re telling me is that we don’t have a taco emergency on our hands?”
I shake my head. “Nope. You don’t have to worry about them making an encore appearance anytime soon.”
“Good to know. If it’s not bad Mexican, then what’s the problem?” There’s a pause as he studies me. “You seem kind of off.”
I glance away. He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. I am off. Now that I’m thinking about it, I realize it’s been that way for a while. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
Even though I mumble the words under my breath, he still manages to hear them.
“There’s obviously something on your mind.” When I remain silent, he makes an impatient gesture with his hand. “Come on, spit it out so we can both move on with our lives.”
I shoot him a glare, wishing it were that simple. Nothing feels easy about this situation I now find myself in.
Another minute ticks by before I force myself to admit, “There’s a girl—a friend—who I might be interested in.”
His brows rise as he straightens on the chair. “Holy shit. You like Sasha?”
“I never said that,” I fire back, cheeks heating with embarrassment.
He points a finger in my direction. “You certainly didn’t deny it.”
Well, he’s got me there.
“Fine,” I grumble. “It’s Sash.”
A grin stretches across his face. “Now, was that really so difficult to admit?”
“Kind of.”
He snorts. “So you like Sasha. Why is this a problem?”
“I’m not sure it is.”
“All right, let’s break this down. Is she aware that you have special feelings for her?”
I scrunch my nose. Is this guy serious? “Special feelings?”
“Yeah. Like, you don’t just want to hold her hand, you want her to give you a handy.”
This conversation is starting to feel like a mistake.
