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“I don’t want a party, and no, I don’t want to drink. Or get drunk. I definitely don’t want that. Been there, done that.”
“You’ve turned into such a wuss, Cole.”
Nixon laughs, “Why? Because I don’t want to get drunk?”
“Because of everything. There are only three things you’re currently doing.” He lifts a finger as he ticks off the statements. “Go to practice. Go to class. And talk about your wife. Like I said, wuss.”
“And I’d rather go straight home tomorrow to my wife than go out with you assholes and get drunk at some party to the point I have to go and have my stomach pumped.” Nixon turns to me. “Remember that party our freshman year?”
“Which one exactly?” My brows pull together. “There were a lot of them.”
The first couple of years, we were partying like crazy. Thursday through Sunday, if there wasn’t a game, we were out partying, drinking, and hooking up. Hell, sometimes, even if we had a game, we’d do the same. But somewhere over the last year and a half, that has changed.
“True,” Nixon chuckles. “But there was that one when seniors issued a challenge.”
“What kind of challenge?” Phillip asks.
“Shit, now I remember.”
“They told us if we manage to sneak booze into the dorms for a party, they’d fake to be injured so we could play.”
“Did you?” Sullivan asks as he and a couple of sophomores join the table.
“Of course we did,” Nixon smirks.
“At that time, any of us would have given our left nut if it meant that we could get some playing time. So Nixon, Hayden, and I made a plan. We found a guy who’d buy some booze for us and meet us at the dorm in the middle of the night. Then I snuck out of the window to make the exchange. The next day we threw the party in my room. The booze was shitty, not that anybody cared that much, but then one of the sophomores got so drunk he passed out, and we had to call the ambulance. So everybody found out about the party and booze.”
“And then, on top of everything else, the coach found out, and he made us run suicides until we were all throwing up on the field.”
“True.”
“So no, I have had enough of drinking to last me a lifetime. What I crave now is calm. Which means you assholes better not get yourselves into a hospital because that’ll be my problem, and I don’t like problems.” He pulls out his phone, a frown appearing between his brows.
“What?” Phillip smirks. “No message from Mrs. Cole? Maybeshe’sout partying when you’re not home. Ever think of that?”
“Dude, have you met my wife?” Nixon shakes his head. “Her idea of fun is ordering tacos and tequila and snuggling on the couch to rewatch her favorite TV show.”
“That’s what you think. For all you know, she could…” His eyes dart to the door, mouth falling open. “Be entering the bar right at this moment.”
“What?” Nixon pulls his brows together. “What are you talking about?”
“No, seriously, dude. She’s here.” He points at the door.
I look up over Nixon’s shoulder, and sure enough, Yasmin is standing right there. She places her finger over her mouth in a keep-quiet motion as she crosses the bar toward us.
“Dude, I’m not falling for…” His words die when small hands cover his face.
My best friend’s whole body stiffens, and a few guys start chuckling.
“It’s not funny, you assholes. I’m not sure who you paid…” He covers Yasmin’s hands with his, pushes them away, and turns around, only to come to a halt when he realizes Phillip had been telling the truth. “Yas?”
“Surprise!”
“They weren’t joking.”
“No, they weren’t.” She looks up at us, shaking her head. “For somebody who relies on imperceptible cues to play, you guys suck at playing along.”
“You’re really here.”
