While my teammates soak in the glory, I’m planted in the darkest corner booth, half-slouched and nursing a 0% beer,pretending it’s something stronger.
I can’t get drunk—I need my head clear because across the room, Jenni is still here.
She’s perched beside Honey, laughing with my friends as though she’s earned a seat at that table.
She hasn’t, and she sure as hell hasn’t earned Honey’s friendship.
What the fuck is her game?
“You planning on sitting here on your own all night?” Mason slides into the booth across from me with his eyebrows raised in disapproval. “And should you even be drinking that? You know half the room has their phones out. One snap of you sipping anything amber, and Coach will gut you on Monday.”
I lift the bottle just enough to show him the label. “Non-alcoholic. I’m an idiot, but I’m not a fucking moron.”
“Hey, boys.” Reese drops into the seat beside Mason, and I only look up for a second, hardly acknowledging him. “What’s with the death glare, Z?”
Before I can answer, Dax wedges himself in next to me with zero sense of self-preservation. “Let me guess—trouble in paradise?” He grins, looking between us. “The man’s been whipped since high school. It’s only her or a loss that can turn our trusted leader into a grunting Neanderthal.
“Did something happen?” Reese scans the bar, following my gaze. “Honey looked happy earlier.”
“She still is,” I mutter. “That’s not the problem.”
No. The problem is the blonde next to her. Jenni’s hand is on Honey’s shoulder now. She’s leaning in, whispering something that makes Honey laugh, and I tighten my grip around the neck of my bottle, trying not to imagine it’s hers.
“Oh, shit.” Sebi shows up with a slice of pizza folded in half like a taco and a soda. “Is little Zachy finally regretting his ‘one-girl-only’ policy?” He takes a massive bite yet somehow managesto keep talking. “Can’t really blame you. That blonde your girl’s hanging out with is a walking wet dream. Who knows, if you ask, they might be up for a threesome.”
My head snaps toward him, and I’m halfway out of the booth when Dax slaps a hand to my chest.
“Easy, Tiger,” he says. “You know Sebi’s brain short-circuits somewhere between his mouth and his ego. We all know your dumbass heart is tattooed with one name and one name only. Honey Sanderson.”
Sebi licks sauce from his thumb. “Exactly. No shade to the queen. If you don’t want the friend, I’m more than happy to entertain her. Maybe she’s into guys with dangerously high body counts and tragic mommy issues.” Then, like the masochist he is, he lifts a hand and waves. “Hey, Honey! Over here!”
I shoot him a death glare, but he just shrugs. “What? You were going to laser-beam a hole through her head if she didn’t come over anyway.”
Honey sees me and her face lights up. She grabs Jenni’s hand and starts heading this way.
Fucking perfect.
Dax moves out of the way, opening his arms as he bows toward Honey. “M’lady,” he says, making my girlfriend giggle as she sneaks past him into the booth next to me. I loop an arm around her waist, grounding myself in her warmth.
“You made that last drive look easy,” she says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Her fingers slip beneath the table, brushing against my thigh. That touch is my last remaining thread of self-control.
“Evans doesn’t do hard,” Sebi says, smirking. “Well, except for when he—”
“Finish that sentence and I swear to God—” I start, but Dax’s already cutting in.
“Ignore Sebi. Man’s just mad because he peaked in high school,” Dax says, stealing a fry from Sebi’s plate.
“You wish,” Sebi fires back.
Mason and Reese scoot down, making space for Jenni, who takes the seat without even saying thank you. “So, how does it feel to be undefeated? You guys must be used to it by now,” she gushes, her eyes a little too wide. A little too eager. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
My eyes narrow and I take her in. Yes, it’s definitely her from the porch, but is she really going to sit here and pretend she has no idea who I am?
“Do you watch much football,Jenn?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Honey elbows me in the ribs, a silent “what the hell?”But Jenni just laughs, completely unbothered by my harshness.
“Not really. I’m more of a baseball or hockey girlie myself.”