Carson shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.” Better than him cracking his knuckles. It was such a caveman habit.
“I’m a big fan,” Blake said excitedly. “We got robbed in the Miami game. Another two minutes, and we would have won.”
“Maybe,” Carson said begrudgingly. His glare softened a bit, though. Plus, I didn’t know Blake well, but I could already tell he was the type of person who was difficult not to like. Carson was actually like that, too, at least when he wasn’t pulling his Hulk routine.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked. I hadn’t realized Blake was such a football fan, but considering the way he was staring at Carson with stars in his eyes, I was in danger of him wanting to take Carson out for coffee instead of me. Now wouldn’t that just be some shit.
Blake looked at me. “Sure. Of course.” It sounded like he would rather stay and shoot the breeze with Carson for a while longer.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the house. He nearly stumbled as he looked backward at Carson. Total man crush. Carson didn’t close the door behind us like a normal person would. Scowling, he crossed his arms and watched us walk all the way down the parking lot to the guest spaces.
“You didn’t tell me you were friends with Carson Fleck,” Blake said. “Do you know Wyatt Archer too?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But not like I know Carson. He’s my brother’s best friend from home, so I’ve known him forever.”
“What about FM4? Do you know him?” Blake was in total fanboy mode.
“I’ve met him, but I wouldn’t call us friends.”
“That’s so cool. I played football on my high school JV team, but I didn’t have the size to make it on varsity.” He sounded wistful.
“Football is definitely a sport where size matters.” Carson definitely had that advantage, but even if he didn’t, he had natural ability. He also had a dogged determination once he set his mind to something. Like me not dating.
“That’s what everyone told me, but I was too stubborn to listen. I should have played soccer.” Blake slid his eyes over to me. “How are you feeling?”
Instinctively, my fingers went to the wound on my forehead. I’d done my best to cover the bruising, but there had been no hiding the butterfly bandage I was still sporting. “I’ll admit I’ve been better.”
Blake chuckled. “I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt. Though your forehead looks painful. That was another reason football and I didn’t mix—I don’t deal well with pain. I’m a wimp.”
That reminded me of another reason Carson was a solid player—pain didn’t bother him.
Blake took me to Beans and Buns, a locally owned coffee shop that was famous for their sticky buns. It was downtown on Main Street right in the middle of all the bars. It was fairly busy for a weeknight, but we were able to snag a prime table right up front. I held the table while Blake put in our order.
The sight of students around me poring over textbooks and laptops caused a sinking feeling in my stomach. I’d missed two days of classes, and I would probably miss another one as well. The last time I’d missed class was when a stomach bug had swept through my dorm freshman year.
It only took a few minutes for Blake to get two coffees and a plate of sticky buns. I eyed the mountain of sugary goodness. “Did you invite some other people and not tell me?”
Taking the seat across from me, he handed me a fork. “I forgot to ask which kind you wanted. So I got regular, chocolate, nutty, cinnamon, and caramel.”
“All of the above.”
He grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. We can share them all if you’re cool with that. I can never decide which one to get, so this is a dream come true.”
Smiling, I waved my fork at him before digging into the cinnamon one. “I knew I liked you.”
***
Carson
I WAITED TO close the door until Blake had driven off. Then I slammed it so hard, it shook the front wall of the house. Even though I was pissed, I realized that was an asshole move since I shared walls with my neighbors. My bad.
When I’d pledged to be better about Becca dating, I hadn’t realized how damn hard it would be. I hadn’t expected it to be easy, but seeing her walk off with another guy gutted me from the inside. To top it all off, the guy was starstruck by me. I hadn’t seen that one coming. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to kick his ass. Maiming a fan probably wouldn’t make me attractive to the pros when it was time for the draft. Christ.
I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, landing on ESPN by default, but I couldn’t sit still. I paced as various images of Becca and Blake ran through my mind—his hand on her lower back as they walked, her smiling and laughing at something he’d said, their faces close together, and—
Fuck. Don’t go there, Fleck. I eased my grip on the remote control before I crushed it.
Exhaling, I tried to talk some sense into myself. They’d only been gone a few minutes, so it was doubtful they’d even gotten to the coffee shop yet, if that was indeed where they were going. For all I knew, they weren’t actually going for coffee. They could be—
You already decided not to go there. Besides, Becca wouldn’t lie to me.
God, this sucked. It was like I was being punished. The fact that her date had picked her up at my own goddamn house was salt in the fucking wound. She shouldn’t be on a date right now, anyway, not while she was still recovering from her concussion. She had a good head on her shoulders, but her thinking was impaired. Surely that was the only reason she would go out with a preppy frat boy. He wasn’t her type, but hell if I knew what was. I’d been good at what I considered my job—keeping her safe from asshole guys, which meant all guys, in my opinion. I knew the thoughts running through college guys’ heads better than anyone.
I couldn’t do it. I’d promised Becca I would be cool, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. I grabbed my keys and stormed out of the house. The most popular coffee shop in town was on Main Street, and I was betting on him taking her there. And damn it, she liked that place. Score one for him. Fuck! Why couldn’t he have taken her to a stupid Starbucks?
I tried to convince myself Beans and Buns was better because I could easily drive past the coffee shop without it arousing suspicion. A person couldn’t get anywhere in town without driving down Main Street.
As I neared downtown, part of me hoped to get caught at the red light so I would have longer to look in the coffee shop window. But the other part of me knew that my Jeep stood out, and if Becca was facing the window, she would see me. While I could justify driving down Main Street, I couldn’t justify craning my neck to peer in the window.
Damn it. The only sensible thing to do was park and go check it out on foot. Not only would I get a clearer view, but it would be easier to keep from being seen. Since it was a weeknight, I was able to find a place to park quickly. I strode down the opposite side of the street and casually leaned against a light pole across from the coffee shop. I spotted Becca right away at a table right inside the door. Luckily, her back was facing me.
Okay, so now what?
They were there, drinking coffee, and—fuck. Are they eating off the same plate? At first, I had the unflattering thought that he was too cheap to buy her her own damn sticky bun, but then she shifted, giving me a better view of the table. Nope. He definitely wasn’t cheap—the plate was more like a platter, and it was overflowing. It was the sort of thing I would have done, which made me hate the guy more. Is he trying to impress her by buying the whole damn menu? Asshole. I didn’t care if he liked me. I didn’t like him, not one bit. But the real question was if Becca did. God, what if she likes this guy?