He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I barely knew what economics was when I chose it. I did an internet search for the top five majors with the fewest papers, and here we are.”
“Shut up. You did not.” He probably did.
“Sure did,” he said. “Math isn’t hard. It’s all the reading and writing crap that gets me.”
“Crap?” I gasped, placing a hand on my chest. “Blasphemy. You’re talking to a writer, you know. That’s my bread and butter.”
“It just doesn’t come easily for me, and I have a low tolerance for frustration.”
“You don’t say.”
He grabbed a new pencil from cup on his desk and tossed it in the air before catching it easily. “Lucky for me, I have you to help me with that stuff now.”
“Oh, this isn’t a permanent tutoring arrangement.”
“Of course it is.” He shot me a lopsided smile. The room got ten degrees warmer, and my heart picked up speed.
“Finish the essay, Carter.” Fighting a smile, I shook my head and returned my attention to my notes. Or tried to, anyway, because the tension in the room had suddenly grown heavy. Palpable. Suggestive.
Instead, he stood and came to sit beside me, the bed sinking under his weight. I could smell the fresh mint on his breath, feel the warmth of his body. His cologne, mingled with soap and laundry detergent, formed some kind of heavenly mixture that should have also fallen into the controlled weapon category.
“So when are you going to come see me play?” His arm brushed against mine, skin against skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
I glanced up at him, finding his dark eyes serious and watchful. “What are you talking about? I’ve seen you play plenty of times.”
“Yeah, but when are you going to come and cheer for me?” His mouth tugged into a boyish grin.
Who could say no to that? Not a single straight woman alive.
It was the flirting equivalent of a trick shot.
“You could sit with Shiv,” he added softly, nudging me with his elbow. “You know, on a night we’re playing someone else.”
It would have to be. Watching Chase play against Callingwood would be way too uncomfortable; imagining it brought up all sorts of mixed feelings. I was loyal to a fault, but after everything that had happened lately, maybe my loyalty had been misguided.
Everything I thought I’d known was slowly unraveling. Or not so slowly, when it came to him.
Heat rushed up my neck, and I dropped my gaze. “Technically, I should still cheer against you since both teams are in the same division and vying for points.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Chase’s voice dropped, innuendo-laden and impossible to resist.
The air in the room took on an electric charge. I lifted my eyes, meeting his. His pupils dilated and he paused, studying my face reading me better than I think anyone ever had. My body hummed in response to his perusal, and my breath grew shallow at his proximity.
When he turned his body to face me, his expression shifted from contemplative to determined and—。
“Carter!” a deep voice yelled, followed by a door slamming. “Yo, I need a hand bringing something in.”
The high I was riding vanished.
Chase furrowed his brow, like he felt the same way. “Guess the roommates are home. Want to meet Ward?”
“Sure.” I drew in a breath, trying to regain my mental footing, but I was in quicksand. Knowing what kissing him felt like was a special kind of torture because now I knew what I was missing.
I followed Chase down the wooden staircase into the living room. There stood Dallas Ward, offensive sniper for the Falcons. While Chase was a total instigator, Dallas could shoot and stickhandle circles around anyone on our team.
He was almost as tall as Chase, with a sharp jaw, dark chestnut hair, and arresting blue eyes. With him was a beautiful raven-haired girl who had dark blue-green eyes and rosy Cupid’s-bow lips. They were the most beautiful couple I had ever seen.
I used to think Luke was good-looking, but he was a potato compared to the three of them. Were all the people on his team gorgeous up close? And their girlfriends? So far, everyone looked like they were straight from the cast of a network television drama. I certainly didn’t fit in.
“This is Bailey.” Chase gestured to me. “Bailey, Dallas and Siobhan. Or Shiv.”
Dallas’s eyes widened. “This is the famous James?”
Oh god. Was I famous because Chase liked me or because I threw up on his shoes?
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Shiv said, giving me a warm smile. Most of the hockey girlfriends I knew didn’t appreciate the presence of new girls, but her greeting was sincere, like she actually meant it.
“Likewise,” I said.
Dallas jerked his thumb at the front door. “Can you give me a hand, man? I need help with a bookshelf.”
“Bookshelf?” Chase cocked a brow. “Shiv, are you domesticating him or what?”
Siobhan grinned. “What can I say? He’s finally housebroken. It’s a proud day for us all.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dallas rolled his eyes, smacking her on the butt as he walked past her to the entry. The door slammed shut behind them, and Siobhan stepped closer to me, eyes twinkling.
“So, you and Chase, huh?” She lowered her voice.
“Oh, we’re just friends.”
I wondered how many “friends” he’d kissed. Then I wondered how many “friends” Siobhan had met…Especially lately.
Not that it was technically any of my business.
“Of course.” Siobhan winked at me. “Dallas and I are ‘friends’ too. How long have you and Chase been, um, hanging out?”
Were we hanging out? I guess we were. What did that even mean? My relationship experience consisted of one short-lived high school boyfriend and Luke. I was not well versed in the workings of the dating world.
But this wasn’t that kind of hanging out…Was it?
How did I not know what I was doing?
“About a month?”
“Huh.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I could really use some more estrogen around here to balance things out. He’s a good guy. I hope you can put up with him long-term.”
I wasn’t sure that would be the problem.
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CHAPTER 18
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OWN IT
Chase
Could I have completed that essay a little faster? Probably. Was I motivated to speed up the process when James was in my bedroom, looking adorable as fuck on my bed? Not really.
When I got home from dropping off Bailey, Dallas was sprawled out on the living room couch, a bottle of beer in hand with his other arm draped around Shiv. In the dark, a horror film flashed on the oversized flatscreen, complete with revving chainsaws and splattering blood. Those two were a match made in weirdo horror-loving heaven. I wasn’t squeamish about guts and gore, but I never really got the appeal of scary movies. If I was going to sit through a movie, it either had to be funny or have lots of car chases and explosions. Or, well, be a naked movie.
I paused in the doorway to the living room. “Hey.”
In the background, there was a bloodcurdling scream from the TV.
Dallas picked up the remote and paused the movie. “How’s your ankle?”