Page 61 of Rookie Recovery

You’re way too hot to be sober at a bar.

I’d said that to him, hadn’t I?

Sober. He’d been sober.

“No way, Doc. Last chance we can do this before training camp. Everyone on the team is getting fuuucked tonight! Including you.”

“Aaron.” I placed my hand on my captain’s chest. “He doesn’t want—”

“Fuck it,” Jamie said, and before I had a chance to question him, he knocked his JD-coke back in one. “Why not?”

He high-fived Aaron, who, now sated, rejoined Zac.

“You’re … you’re not teetotal?” I asked once everyone else was out of earshot.

“No, I just don’t drink often. I don’t like the feeling of—”

“Losing control.” I finished his sentence for him.

It was like all the pieces of the puzzle were pulling themselves together. The stuffy professor type. The hiding his incredible tattoos. The not drinking, or hardly drinking. The death before crumpled shirts mantra. The draconian minute by minute recovery plan.

“You’re a control freak,” I said to him.

“You’re only just realising this?” he replied, his mouth curved into a smile.

Fuck me, playful Jamie was gorgeous. Those lips. I’d never seen more perfect, more defined, more kissable lips on anyone.

I wound my finger around the edge of his open collar and tugged it until his ear was level with my mouth. “I’m a different kind of freak all together,” I whispered.

Jamie smoothed out the stubble on his upper lip as though he could erase his smile. But I could still see it reflected in his eyes. “Okay, kid. This counts as your first drink. It’s weak as piss, so you might get away with three—”

“No, keep me on two. Please. I’ll nag you and whine a bit. But you gotta only let me have two.”

He winked at me. “I’ve got you.”

All my insides turned to liquids and started draining into my legs, making me feel sluggish, and heavy, and warm. So warm. I’ve got you.

After I’d finished my second drink, and Jamie had drunk his fourth, he announced he was going to the bar to buy everyone a round. His eyes took on an unfocused sort of glaze as the guys shouted out their orders.

“And a rum and coke for little Bowie,” he said, giving me a panto-villain style wink. I was grateful my teammates were sloshed and would have missed the gesture.

Rowan got to his feet and followed Jamie to help with the … tray carrying? I wasn’t actually sure.

The cluster of sofas in the back became free, and Aaron and Zac practically lunged across the room for them. They sat at one end of the largest sofa. I took the other end. Rainey and JJ opted to sit on either side of a small leather chesterfield.

“Hey!” called Aaron, waving towards the door as Katie walked in. “Quick, come here and save these seats with us.”

Katie dropped onto the sofa opposite me and offered everyone a smile.

“I didn’t think you were going to come tonight?” Aaron yelled over the general cacophony of the bar.

“And miss my chance to see a wild Dr Sullivan outside of its natural habitat?” Katie replied. She turned to me. “You just get here, too?”

“No, been here an hour maybe.”

She frowned, let her eyes travel over the other guys, in their varying degrees of hammeredness. Rainey fairing well, talking to JJ, who he had in creases. They were too far away for me to hear what they were laughing about. And then there was Zac, who had his shirt pulled up over his stomach, and Aaron, who was tracing a finger over said stomach.

As though they sensed everyone looking, the pair turned to us.

---