“Are you fucking with me right now?”
I ignore that. “Do you think it happens in real life? Pheromones and all that crap. Is it a bullshit theory some horndog dreamed up so he could justify why he’s attracted to his mother or some shit? Or is there actually a biological reason why we’re drawn to certain people? Like goddamn Twilight. Edward wants her on a biological level, right?”
“Are you seriously dissecting Twilight right now?”
God, I am. This is what Allie has reduced me to. A sad, pathetic loser who goes to a bar and forces his friend to participate in a Twilight book club.
“I don’t know whether to make fun of you or refer you to a shrink,” Beau says solemnly. “I’ve never met a dude who’s actually read that book.”
“I haven’t read it. My sister was obsessed with those books when they came out. She used to follow me around the house and offer me recaps against my will.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Blame it on your sister.” Beau laughs before going serious again. “Okay, so you’re horny for this chick. Why don’t you just nail her again?”
“Because she doesn’t want to hook up again,” I reply through clenched teeth.
“Impossible. Everyone wants to hook up with you.”
“I know, right?” I lift the bottle to my lips. “So what should I do?”
Beau offers a shrug. “Get over it. Go out with someone else.”
I only pick up on the Wayne’s World reference because Tucker and I literally watched it last weekend when it came on TV. “Nice.” I grin at him and add, “I don’t even own a gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack.”
We both recite the next line, “What am I gonna do…with a gun rack?”
Our loser selves proceed to break out in laughter and high five each other, and then Beau addresses the topic at hand. “Seriously, though.” He gestures around the bar. “This place is full of women who’d sell their firstborn to go home with you. Pick one and sex this other chick right out of your head.”
“My dick won’t let me,” I mutter.
Beau snickers. “Can you repeat that, please?”
“My dick is being difficult,” I explain irritably. “I tried to jerk off to porn last night, and swear to God, damn thing wouldn’t get hard. Then I thought of All—this girl,” I correct myself, because I promised Allie I wouldn’t tell anyone about our night together “—and bam” I snap my fingers. “Hard as a rock.”
Beau eyes me thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t think we’re dealing with a Bella’s-magical-blood situation here.”
“No?”
“No. I think you’ve imprinted on this girl’s pussy.”
A choked cough sounds from behind me, and I turn in time to see our waitress walking by. Her cheeks are red, lips twitching as if she’s trying not to bust a gut.
I turn back to Beau. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re facing a Jacob quandary. You imprinted on her pussy, and now it’s the only pussy you can think about. You exist solely for this pussy. Like Jacob and that weird mutant baby.”
“You fucking asshole. You’ve totally read those books.”
“Nuh-uh,” Beau protests. He gives a sheepish grin. “I’ve seen the movies.”
I decide to save my taunting for later because there are more pressing matters to focus on. “So what’s the cure, Dr. Maxwell? Go on a fuck spree and hope I un-imprint? Or keep working the charm and hope I wear her down?”
My buddy snorts loudly. “How would I know?” He raises his pint glass. “I’m drunk, dude. Nobody should ever listen to me when I’m drunk.” He drains his glass and signals the waitress for another. “Hell, nobody should listen to me when I’m sober.”
8
Dean
The second game of the season is an unmitigated disaster. No. Scratch that. It’s a goddamn bloodbath.
Nobody says a word as we file into the locker room, the humiliation of the loss creeping behind us like a puddle of tar. We may as well have yanked our pants down, stuck our bare asses in the air and cheerfully asked the other team for a spanking. We fucking handed them the win. No, we handed them a shutout.
As I whip off my jersey, I mentally replay every second of the game. Every mistake we made out there tonight is burned into my mind like a cattle brand. Losing sucks. Losing at home sucks harder.
Damn, there are going to be a lot of disappointed fans at Malone’s tonight. I’m not looking forward to seeing them, and I know my teammates are equally upset. None more so than Hunter, who hurriedly strips out of his uniform as if it’s covered with fire ants.