I wince. I don’t want to go to the stupid party, but it’s customary for the team to hold a party after every game. Most parties I avoid because we lose, and the guys just want to drown their sorrows in tequila. But we’ve just won the championship, and if I don’t attend and show my face for five minutes, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.” After I get my choc-dipped ice-cream covered in crushed peanuts.
“Sweet. Bring Em, too, because Austin,” Rome pauses and glances over his shoulder, “wants to...”
He trails off seeing the glare from me.
I bark out a laugh. “Austin can want whatever the hell he wants. Em’s not that stupid. She won’t fall for his cheesy lines and whatever other shit he pulls to get chicks in his bed.”
“Defensive much?” Rome goads. They like to hound me about my friendship with Em. None of them can understand how we’re friends and nothing more. They don’t believe you can be friends with the opposite sex.
If Austin wants to get in Em’s pants, good luck to him. I’m not defending Em, so much as I’m reinforcing the fact she’s not stupid enough to believe a few pickup lines.
I’ve seen it time and time again over the last few months. Guys try hard to get Em to fall for their charms, but because she has trust issues, she firmly friend-zones every one of them. Most are dumb enough to believe they can win her trust and get her into bed. Instead, they hold on to hope for so long they can’t wait any more. It isn’t Em’s fault. She’s adamant she won’t date anyone until they earn her trust.
They never do.
Most of the time they can’t keep it in their pants long enough to wait for Em, and that’s an immediate deal breaker for her.
Austin’s no different. He’ll pull every move known to man to seduce her, and when he can’t get what he wants, he’ll get it somewhere else, and that will put their friendship back at square one. Then because he’s Austin and not the type of guy to screw around, he’ll regret getting his dick wet for one night and losing his chance with Em.
It’s a vicious cycle and fucking hilarious to see unfold.
I cross my arms. “Not at all. I’ve seen it happen too often. I can guarantee Em won’t fall for it.”
“Austin’s pretty slick, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”
I quirk an eyebrow, intrigued at the prospect of making money from doing nothing. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll bet you two hundred bucks that Austin gets into Em’s pants by the time the new season starts.”
“Six months? You’re giving him six months to work his magic?”
Rome nods.
“And you’re expecting me to bet two hundred bucks on my best friend’s sex life?”
He shrugs once and screws up his face. “Is that wrong? Probably is.”
“How the hell should I know? You’re on, but let’s make it more interesting. Two grand.”
This time it’s Rome’s turn to lift an eyebrow in surprise. “Two grand? You’re that confident in Em’s ability to hold out for six months?”
“I am.” He has no clue what she’s like. I’d bet a year, but I don’t want to wait that long for the money. The cash will help pay our rent for a few months so Dad doesn’t have to fork out so much.
He steps back. “All right, loser. You’re on.” He shakes my outstretched hand and punches me in the arm before walking off. “Catch you later,” he calls over his shoulder.
I make my way back to my locker, gather up my things and go in search of Emerson, already picturing the scene in my head. Em acting nonchalant and not interested. Austin pulling his famous moves, leaning against the wall, flirting, talking up his game.
I get about three steps down the hall when I hear his voice. Like a weirdo, I creep down the narrow corridor keeping my steps light to not alert them of my approach—a huge feat considering all I want to do is run and sweep Em up and get as far from people as possible. Crowds and people stress me out after a while.
I pause at the corner and peer around. Em is leaning against the wall, one foot propped up behind her. She isn’t the least bit interested in what Austin is saying. I’ve seen that expression on her face many times before. The glazed-over eyes, the pursed lips, the way she flicks the fingernail on her ring finger over and over with her thumb. She is likely creating a to-do list in her head as Austin drawls on and on about the game and spouts his stats like it’s impressive.
She lives with me.
She’s heard it all before, time and time again. She gives me her full attention when I ramble on about the games, practices, stats, whatever, because she understands me and my need for it. If she doesn’t listen to me ramble on about basketball, then I’ll go off and jump out of a plane, or hike a mountain because I’m impulsive like that, and then she’s left to bring me back down to earth. Literally and figuratively. But she doesn’t give a shit about the game, or winning, or anything else. She cares about me and keeping my thoughts in check. If it weren’t for her, I’d likely be dead from pulling a stupid stunt one too many times.
That’s where the guys get her wrong. Because she comes and cheers me on every game, meets me after every practice, they assume she is a ball bitch like the rest of the basket bunnies that hang around. They’re like basketball groupies. I prefer the term ball bitches. Em hates it when I refer to them as that. She says it’s insensitive. But I’ve never claimed to be sensitive and if the dick fits...
They chase ball players and go after...well, their balls. Some have some mad ball-handling skills, pun intended. Some are as delicate as a vacuum set on turbo.
Emerson is none of them.
Austin will learn that the hard way, and I will take Rome for all his cash with a pep in my step and a giant fuck you smile.
6
Emerson
I push back against the wall hoping that it will open and swallow me up at any moment. It doesn’t. But I’m not sure I can handle talking to Austin any longer. If he gives me a run-down of the game, play-by-play, I’m ninety-nine point eight percent sure I’ll knee him in the balls.
He’s a nice guy, cute, I guess, if you like a chiseled jaw, olive skin, and piercing blue eyes. Let’s not forget the muscles for days and a smile that can make a nun’s panties quiver. Yeah. He’s hot, but I’m not interested. I’m there for Colt. I couldn’t care less about the game. It makes Colt happy, so it makes me happy. I’m here to drag him out for ice-cream. Something he likes after a game.
“Did you see that hook shot?”
“Mmm-hmmm. Yeah it was great.” I’m not paying attention to what he’s saying. I attend the games for Colt, and because he’ll want to talk about it later, that’s it. “You’re a superstar. You should have got MVP.”
“I know, right? I’ve been working on that move for months.”
I smile up at him. He towers over me. Taller than Colt. He’s so proud of himself, I don’t have the heart to tell him Colt nailed that move when he was eleven.
“So anyway, are you coming to the party tonight? I’ll save you a dance.” Austin winks. He freaking winks. Does that work on girls? A twitching eye, making him look like he has a nervous tic? My mind can’t comprehend why girls fall for that.