Page 25 of End Game

It’s as if I have no choice but to follow him out of my room, trailing after him as he makes his way to the front door. “What about Frank? What if he spots us after I turned him down?”

“He just texted me asking if I wanted to meet up with him later at Charley’s. A few of the guys are there already.” Charley’s is a bar not too far from campus—and our house—that also serves food. I applied for a job there but turned down their request for an interview when I got the position at the café.

“Oh.” Nico’s really got to be humoring me by offering to take me out for dinner. Wouldn’t he rather be with his friends? “Did you want to meet up with them instead?”

“I’ll hang out with them later.” He faces me fully, his brows shooting up. “You ready to go?”

He’s just being friendly, I remind myself as I follow him through the front door and watch as he locks it, shoving his keys in his pocket. I stare at the front of his sweatpants like some sort of deranged pervert, and when I jerk my gaze up to his, that knowing smile is back. Like he knows exactly what I was looking at.

Like he doesn’t mind that I’m a deranged pervert. He might even like it.

This is nothing, I remind myself. It means nothing. Just two roommates grabbing food. That’s it.

That’s all it can ever be.

Chapter Ten

NICO

We walk side by side along the sidewalk, keeping up a steady stream of conversation, me dodging out of the way if someone approaches us. A few people say hello, calling out my name like I’m some sort of celebrity, and I realize it was pretty risky, coming out like this by myself.

It’s not something I normally do. I’m taking a chance here. I could get swarmed by fans—and the rabid fangirls who just want to get in our pants—in a matter of minutes if word gets out.

Wild but true.

Everleigh, though? She’s oblivious to my celebrity status. She doesn’t treat me like a god, and I like it. To her I’m that guy she lives with who probably annoys her sometimes. I know I definitely embarrass her when I don’t even mean to. It’s awkward as fuck at night when we’re both wanting to use the bathroom for a shower or to brush our teeth. One night, we even brushed our teeth together, which felt weirdly intimate especially since there’s only one sink and we’re both spitting into it.

Coop was right. Living with a woman is different.

Earlier she really couldn’t stop staring at my burrito like it was the best thing she’d ever seen, and when her stomach growled?

That confirmed it. Girl was hungry. I was feeling generous, so I offered to feed her.

No big.

When we finally end up at Hector’s, there’s a line in front of the building. It’s the kind of restaurant where you place your order at the counter and they call out your name when it’s ready. They move pretty fast.

“There are a lot of people here,” she observes.

I toss my wadded-up foil left over from the burrito I finished a few minutes ago in a nearby trash bin. “I’m not the only one who thinks this place is delicious.”

“Clearly.” She sends me a quick smile as she scans the area. There are a bunch of picnic tables to the left of the building where people can sit and eat, strings of lights hanging above them in a zigzag pattern. Every table is full of people our age, all of them talking and laughing while shoving food in their faces.

This town is a vibe, and I’m so fucking glad I live here. That I play football for this team. I grew up on the coast, but a little farther up north, in Atascadero. I could’ve gone to college near there, but their football team was for shit, and there was no way I could risk it. Plus I was eager to get away from my hometown and go somewhere new. I wanted to play for a D-1 school, and lucky for me, I got in.

Not without hard work both in class and on the field, that’s for damn sure.

We’re slowly approaching the inside of the restaurant, close enough for Everleigh to check out the menu board that sits above the order counter, when the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Like someone’s watching me.

Here’s the deal. A lot of people watch me, and I’m normally unaffected by it because I’m used to it. But something is up. Whoever is watching me, I get the sense that it’s not in a positive way.

When the hairs on my arms start to rise, I realize that someone is most definitely watching me. More like glaring at me.

Barely moving, I glance out of the corner of my eye, everything inside me seeming to sink when I see who it is.

Portia. The girl I fucked around with in the spring on a semiregular basis, which was my first mistake. The one who lost her mind on me when I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore.

That pissed her off. Big time. From the look I just spotted on Portia’s face, I’d say she’s still pissed.

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