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“I don’t know, that’s the point,” I snarl, and Matt smiles again. Damn, he’s cocky. Half the guys on my football team aren’t as cocky as my best friend, Matthew Nelson, thinks he needs to be.
“Did you guys have a nice fuck?” Matt doesn’t look at me when he asks this. Instead, his head is buried in the fridge, looking for his pack of beer. For a split second I think he knows somehow about Rowan and me. Did she tell him? Or Jamie? Did someone tell him and Bryce, too?
“No,” I say steadily. “We didn’t have sex.”
Not today, anyway.
“Well, she was here for a reason.”
“Fuck off, man.” I shoulder past Matt and back out into the living room where Rowan’s glass is still sitting, practically untouched. Annoyed by the circumstances, I swallow it down, relishing in the burning sting of whiskey on my throat. Then I grab my own drink and shoot that back, too.
If anything has really worked out tonight, it’s that my fucking hard-on for Rowan Bates has been smashed into a black hole.
For now, anyway. It seems I can’t even think about her anymore without wanting to rip her clothes off and fuck her silly.
