She blushed slightly. “Yes.”
“Cool. Carson, are you ready for the game tomorrow? It should be a blowout, right?”
Despite myself, I couldn’t help but like the guy. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised. Becca didn’t stay friends with assholes. Except me. “If we can’t whip JMU, we’ve got problems.” This year, our homecoming opponent was an in-state rival, but they weren’t anywhere close to being in our league. The timing was fortunate, though. It always sucked to lose the homecoming game.
We made our way to the ballroom, which was already packed. I checked the time—the event had only officially started two minutes ago, but the line for the open bar was already ridiculous. Guess Blake knows what he’s talking about.
Blake straightened his tie. “I guess it’s time to charm a cougar into donating a ton of money to the school.”
Becca frowned. “Really?”
“Why else do you think they parade us out here? They can’t tell us that, but that’s our purpose.” He nodded toward a group of cheerleaders. “That’s why they’re here.”
“That’s so cynical,” Becca said.
“Is it cynical if it’s true? Tickets cost three hundred a pop for this event,” Blake said. “Trust me. They’re hoping this crowd will donate.”
Becca looked up at me for confirmation.
“I agree with Blake,” I said. “This event has politics written all over it.”
“I guess you would know,” Becca muttered. I’d been coerced into attending events like these in the past, both for my mother and for her associates. It was all so fake. I would take a cold beer, a grilled bratwurst, and a bonfire over bruschetta on tiny toast any day. But I kind of wished Blake had kept his fat mouth shut. There was no reason Becca’s view of this whole shindig had to be jaded.
“Excuse me,” an elderly man wearing a bow tie said. “Are you Carson Fleck, by any chance?”
I squared my shoulders and pasted on a smile. I knew how to do this song and dance. “Yes, sir. I am.”
Blake gave us a little wave and wandered off, probably to do his part and find an older lady to schmooze.
“Well, hot damn.” The older man twisted his head to scan the crowd. “Where are the other guys?”
“They’re resting up for tomorrow’s game.” That seemed the prudent thing to say, even if it wasn’t true for a lot of my teammates. It was definitely true for Wyatt and Jake, though.
“Don’t you need rest?”
“Yes, sir, but I’m here to support this lovely lady. She’s on the homecoming court.”
The man spared a glance for Becca. “How nice. Say, would you mind signing something for me for my grandson? Archer is his favorite, but he’d probably like something from you.”
“Sure,” I said easily. The man produced a pen, and Becca grabbed a flyer from a side table.
After I signed it, the man tucked it into his pocket and patted me on the shoulder. “Have a good game tomorrow, son.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Once he was out of earshot, Becca shook her head. “He was kind of a prick, even if he was an old man.”
I shrugged. Quarterbacks were always kids’ favorite players. It didn’t bother me. Though the guy had been kind of a dick about the whole thing.
Becca and I made the most of the situation. While we didn’t get to enjoy the open bar, we did gorge on hors d’oeuvres, and sure enough, there was bruschetta on tiny toast. Shortly before nine, she made her way to the stage. The cheerleaders did a routine and then created an alley for the homecoming court to walk through as they were announced. The alumni attendees clapped politely for each person, but it was obvious they didn’t give a shit. After the first few candidates, the buzz of conversation resumed. When Becca’s name was called, I stuck my fingers in my mouth and whistled obnoxiously loudly. Even from the back of the room, I could see her blush. Mission accomplished.
My phone buzzed with a text from Roman, telling me he was already at my place. I immediately started sweating, and my collar suddenly felt like it was choking me. Damn. I hadn’t expected him for another hour. Normally, I would have been happy he’d arrived early, but not when we needed to have the conversation where I told him I was shacking up with his sister.
I reminded myself it wasn’t like that. Once he saw that I genuinely loved her, he would be cool with it. He had to be. Fuck. I was not looking forward to this.
Becca returned to my side, and I scooped her up in a tight hug. “I’m proud of you.”
She laughed. “All I did was walk through a spirit tunnel.”
I grinned. “But you did it so well. Ready to go? I just got a text from Roman.”
She sighed. “I totally misunderstood. We’re supposed to stay until ten.”
“Okay.” I breathed a little easier, grateful for the excuse to avoid Roman a little longer.
“No, you go. I can catch a ride home with Blake.”
“I’ll stay. Roman can wait. He’s early anyway.”
“Roman just drove almost six hours. It’s kind of shitty to make him sit in his car for another hour if he doesn’t have to.”
God, I’m such a dick. I hadn’t even considered that. Even though Becca had a valid point, I didn’t like leaving her.
Becca put a hand on her hip. “Don’t be an ass about this. You were just planning to drop me off at home anyway.” Although she said she was sure Roman would be okay with the two of us being together, she wasn’t ready to stay the night with me under the same roof as her brother. I couldn’t say I was ready for that either. Would I ever be?
“Fine,” I muttered. “But I want to talk to Blake first.”
Blake assured me multiple times that he would make sure Becca got home safely. As she walked me to the exit, she promised to text me when she got home. I’d run out of excuses to stay. I’m such a chickenshit.
Putting my thumb under her chin, I tilted her face up. “Be sure you do.” It felt so ass-backward to entrust Becca to another guy, especially one she’d dated. Okay, it was just one coffee date, but still.
As I walked away from her, she grabbed my hand and pulled me back for another kiss. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
She playfully pushed me toward the door. “Now go talk to Roman. It’ll be fine.”
Easy for her to say.
CHAPTER 20
Carson
ROMAN WAS WAITING on my front porch when I pulled in. “About time your ugly ass showed up,” he called.
I took my time getting out of the car. “Sorry,” I said when I finally emerged.
He shot me a strange look. Shit. The fact that I didn’t lob an insult right back at him warned him that something was up.
I unlocked the front door, and we shuffled in. Roman dropped his bag on the floor and wandered into the kitchen. “I’m fucking starving. You got anything good?”
“The same as usual,” I said. Roman was always hungry. “We can order a pizza if you want.”
He came back into the living room with his arm elbow deep in a bag of Doritos. “No, I’m good. I hit up a Wendy’s on the drive here. I just need snacks.”