6. Alex

6

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I wanted to wallow,but Nikki insisted I follow the routine. Wednesday night fish fry at Patty's is a meal never to be missed. It doesn't hurt that it's all you can eat for nine-ninety-nine. Plus, it's baseball tradition. The guys always go. And if I start to pull away from the team, I'm only going to make myself look more pathetic. Like I don't have this under control.

But I don't. And I can't seem to find my way back.

Today was a whole new level of being in my own head. It's as if Chase, the young arm we recruited over break, knew all my weaknesses. I couldn't get a handle on his routine. It didn't help that I was the first guy he faced, but then when I watched him pitch to the other guys—to Edwin—it was like they got something entirely different.

I shake my head and remind myself of Nikki's words. For now, we focus on dinner, darts, and dancing. I can go back to obsessing in the morning. I promised her I'd do my best.

Nikki sets a pitcher on the table and I push her basket of fish and chips toward her. Cole slips into one of our open seats.

"Got room for this meathead?" He gestures over his shoulder to Cutter McCreary. I smirk and stand to give him a bro hug. Cutter and I went through Tiff freshman orientation together. He's a good guy, even though he's a hockey player. The hockey team at this school gets treated like royalty. Pisses a lot of us other athletes off.

"Man, what's up? Last time I saw you, hmm"—I hold my finger to my chin, playing it up—"I think Laney Price hated your ass." I poke at his ribs and the fucker actually blushes.

"Yeah, well. I bet if you asked her, there are still days she hates me," he laughs out. I chuckle with him.

His girlfriend might be the best athlete this school has ever seen, and she's fierce in general. When the hockey team took over the women's locker space, Laney led the battle to make sure the hockey program, and mostly its captain, Cutter, suffered. How the hell the two of them ended up being campus it couple after all that baffles me.

Cutter pushes around me, effectively knocking me onto my ass on my stool, so he can give Nikki a proper hug. She slides off her stool and licks the fish fry grease from her fingertips then leaps at him, casting her arms around his neck as he lifts her up and swings her around. It's nothing new for them—they've been friends since orientation too—but for some reason, the sight of his hands on her shoulder blades has me running hot.

"Where is Laney?" I blurt out. I force an overly large smile on my face, but Cole coughs out a laugh because nothing gets by him.

"She's getting extra reps. Her draft is soon," Cutter says, dropping Nikki back down to earth as if he's a Hemsworth brother. He pulls a free stool over to our table and holds up a hand, which immediately ushers a server to our table with a pitcher in hand.

Fucking hockey dudes, man.

I pour my beer then tip back my mug, guzzling down a third of it to wash away this weird jealous wave smacking into my chest. Gazing over the rim of my glass, I lock eyes with Brayden, who is staring hard at our table, clearly nursing a jealous wave of his own. Shit, I'm no better than he is.

Without thinking, I hook my foot around the leg of Nikki's stool and scoot her close enough for me to put my hand on her knee. She coughs out a whoa from the not-so-gentle motion.

"You got something," I say, running the side of my finger along her cheek. Her eyes dim and then flit toward Cole. There's nothing on her face, but Brayden sure didn't like watching me touch her.

"Got it," I say, giving her a quick smile. Her brow furrows, so I nod over her shoulder. She twists her head, her hair dragging along her shoulders as she glances at where Brayden sits with some of the other pitchers, including the guy who wiped the floor with me today.

"Ah," she says, swiveling back to face me. Her hair gets caught in the collar of her sweatshirt, so I slip my hand around her neck and pull it free. I leave my hand on her skin, my thumb grazing the top of her spine. Her skin is so hot. And soft.

Cole coughs, and I shake my head and pull my hand away.

"Sorry, you were going to hang yourself with that head of hair," I say.

She gives me a sideways look and mutters out, "Okay," before pulling her beanie from her back pocket and tugging it down on the top of her head. I smirk at her attempt to hide herself. She's always done that, but I don't think it has the same effect she thinks it does.

Nik has always been able to pull off hats. Ballcaps, cowboy hats, those giant sun-stoppers the old ladies wear near our hometown senior center. Hell, she even looks good in visors. But beanies are definitely her vibe. She has this tough chick thing going, which I know carries plenty of legitimacy.

The table is quiet for about five minutes while we all devour the greasiest food this side of the Mississippi. I'm not even certain there's actual fish in these things. I'm not sure it matters with the amount of batter, salt and Patty's special seasoning. It's a good thing this is only on the menu once a week.

"What do you say, Alex? You game?" Brayden has worked his way into our tight circle, palming a set of darts in both hands.

"Shouldn't you be resting that thing?" I say, motioning to his right arm.

He smirks.

"I'll throw lefty. Make it more even for you."

I laugh through my last bite. Sadly, he's not wrong. I'm shit at darts. I don't get the fine motor control of it all. If I could fling the things at the board the way I throw screwdrivers into the dirt back home, I might have something. But the precise flick of the wrist? That skill is lost on me. But I'm sure as hell not backing down from him in front of Nikki. I can't figure out why she's willing to entertain this asshole again.

"Sure, Brayden. Let's do this," I say, taking the darts from his right hand and feeling the weight in my palm.

Nikki raises a brow as she slides from her stool to join us. "I'm not so sure this is the way to make him jealous," she whispers at my side. She's grabbed both of our beers, which is good because odds are I'm going to need to drink after Brayden embarrasses me.

"Yeah, I know. Just . . . be my good luck charm. He'll hate that. And let's face it, I need one." I grimace at her as I spin around to walk backward. Her head tilts with a certain sense of pity because I think she knows I mean that in a broader sense. I need luck for a lot of things.

Nikki slides into one of the high tops by the pool tables and the dart machines. Brayden sets up our game while I take a few practice throws on the board next to us. My first attempt scores a seven, and the next two in the double lines.

"Hey, okay," I say, winking at Nikki as I spin around to retrieve my darts.

"I'm impressed you hit the board," she says through her raspy laugh.

"Me, too," Brayden adds. Damn, I almost forgot he was here. But isn't he the point? Nikki and he high five at my expense and I force my smile to stay wide, then wind up to take one more practice throw. This time I send the dart into the men's room door.

"Good thing that was closed," Brayden says.

"Good thing that was closed," I repeat in that pouty child voice I usually only reserve for hitting work with my dad.

And fuck, now I'm thinking about my dad. And Brayden's relationship with my dad's girlfriend. And his smug face. Both of their smug faces. Everyone's smug face!

"Let's go," I say, yanking my dart from the well-graffitied Patty's bathroom door. One of the Tiff hockey players pushes through a second later, and I glance over my shoulder to take in his massive body.

"I don't know that the dart would have stood a chance," Nikki jokes. I shrug, though that was funny and I think she was only trying to shift the jokes to not be at my expense.

"You ready, slugger?" Brayden says, baiting me. I gnash my molars but force a smile.

"You first," I say.

Brayden lines up, weight on his front foot as his long arm reaches practically half the distance to the board. He squints and flexes his wrist, then turns his gaze to me.

"Little wager?"

I shrug.

"Depends," I say. I don't really have cash to drop to this fool tonight.

"Winner gets to dance with Nikki to the song of her choice," he says.

I glance to my friend in time to catch her spitting out her sip of beer. She waves her hand. "Absolutely not?—"

"Deal," I agree, ignoring her wishes completely.

Dammit!

I am an asshole.

I will myself to take it back. To toss the damn darts on the table and walk away. Go back to the pub side with Cutter and Cole. Hell, go home!

"Deal," Brayden says.

I don't say a word. I simply step to the side and watch him knock down three twenties in a row. I swear, the only reason he skipped the bullseye was to drag this out and watch me squirm.

He plucks his darts from the board, then steps to the side with a wave of his hand.

"You're up, sport."

I glare at him as he walks by, a deep chuckle emanating from his throat that I think is just for me.

"What's with the nicknames?"

Brayden rocks back a step and leans in, his eyes glancing to Nikki briefly, then back to me.

"My cousin told me your dad calls you by them." His lip ticks up on one side, and I'd swear I smell smoke pouring from his breath like some sort of demon. Fucking asshole.

"You know what?" I suck my lips in tight and glance to Nikki, who is sitting with her arms crossed over her chest, clearly pissed that I let this go this far. That I am about to make her a bet. That's not what friends do to friends. And it's not what I do to Nik.

I toss the darts on the table and turn to look Brayden in the eyes.

"I'm out." I wipe my hands of him, literally, and saunter back to the table where Cole and Cutter are looking on. I have a keen feeling my teammate is filling him in on the backstory to the extent he knows it.

I slide back onto my stool and top off my beer with what's left in the pitcher.

"Hey," Cutter says, reaching over the table toward me with a fist. I stare at it for a few seconds then pound it with my own.

"It's not easy being the bigger man," he says, and I smile to myself as I take a long sip from my beer.

"Thanks," I say with a nod as I put the mug back down.

"It pays off, though," Cutter adds, leaning in and glancing over my shoulder.

I spin around to see Nikki making her way back to us, her walk slow and purposeful. She's swaying her hips exaggeratingly, and I smile on one side. She's cute when she's trying to cheer me up. I also wouldn't hold it against her if she hauled back and socked me in the jaw for that little display back there.

"I told Brayden I got to pick the winner," she says, sliding her now empty mug on the table before taking my hand.

"You sure I deserve to win anything?"

I let her lead me out to the dance floor where some of the older folks are two-stepping. I'm not very good at this type of dancing, but maybe I deserve to fumble my way around the dance floor as punishment.

I thread my fingers with Nikki's and she turns into me, my hand resting at her hip. I look down to study my feet as I take a deep breath, but Nikki reaches for my chin and tips my gaze back up to hers.

"Uh uh," she says.

My brow pulls in.

"Deal was, I pick the song," she says, a devious smirk slowly taking up the real estate of her face.

Just then, the music changes over to the next pick, and the rawest, nastiest, thrasher-fest of a metal song pours out of Patty's speakers. Nikki holds up her pinky and index finger then begins to head bang, her beanie flopping to the floor while her wild hair flings around her face.

My head falls back as I howl with laughter, then join my friend for the world's smallest mosh pit. I even let her rush at me and smash into my ribs a few times before catching her on the last one and steadying our worlds for a beat.

"You're going to hurt yourself," I laugh out.

She shakes her head then brings her hands up, pushing her fingertips into her temples. She grimaces but turns it into a relenting smile, finally resting both hands on my shoulders.

"Yeah, alright. That was maybe a bit much."

I rock us to whatever beat I can find, the floor cleared from the audio assault Nikki unleashed.

"I can't believe that was even an option on the jukebox," I say through a soft laugh.

Nikki steps in close, her cheek resting on the center of my chest, and I drop my hands down to her waist.

"I know all the deep cuts on that thing," she says.

"Of course you do."

Eventually, her thrasher song plays out and shifts back into a slow country song. I don't budge, and she seems perfectly content staying right where we are.

"That was sure weird," an older man says as he brings his wife back onto the dance floor. He glances to the head of my best friend, which is still tucked against my chest.

"It's always weird," I tell him, earning me a quick poke in the ribs.

"Ahh, hey!" I laugh out as I arch from her tickle attack.

"That's still not fair," I say, running my hands around her waist to the small of her back. I slip them under her sweatshirt, expecting to feel the fabric of a T-shirt underneath, but instead, my palms meet bare skin. Her body stiffens, and for a blip, I pause our rocking motion.

"Sorry," I say as I start to pull them away.

"No, don't," she says, shifting her head so her chin is propped on my chest. "It's nice."

Her eyes blink slowly, and my lungs fill with this fluttering sensation like I've been drugged. I nod softly then drop my lips to her forehead. Her eyes close and a tranquil smile pulls at the sides of her mouth.

"I bet Brayden's jealous," she says.

I don't bother looking. I'm sure he is. In fact, he's probably plotting my demise at this very moment. But I don't care about Brayden right now. I care about this girl right here, and the sudden massive confusion rattling around my head over how I feel and what I'm going to do about it.

"Let him," I say.

Let him.

Let . . . me.

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