Page 17 of The Score

“Sorry, Superstar. Not happening,” I tell him. “Find your own wildcat.”

“Fine.” Grinning, he gives the room another scan. “Oh yeah. I think I know who I’m going home with tonight.”

I follow his gaze to the long wooden counter, where a tall brunette has her back turned to us as she leans forward to order a drink. She’s in a short black skirt and high heels, with long brown hair falling down her back in waves. The male bartender is damn near drooling, his hungry eyes peering down her shirt, which tells me she must have a great rack. All I can see is her ass, though, and it’s pretty fantastic.

Normally I’d be all over the brunette, but I’m not in the mood to score tonight. My mind keeps drifting back to Allie. And Allie’s pussy. And her tits. Man, her tits were incredible. A perfect handful, with pale-pink nipples that went harder than icicles when I sucked on them.

I sigh and do some strategic rearranging in my crotchal region. I’ve gotta quit thinking about last night, for chrissake. God knows Allie is doing her best to forget it.

“What do you think?” Hunter asks me.

I shift my gaze away from the brunette. “She might be a little out of your league.”

“I’m a hockey player. Nobody’s out of my league.”

“Truth.” I chuckle. That was the first thing I taught Hunter when I took him under my wing at the start of the season. But even so, the brunette has the sexiest body I’ve ever seen. A woman like that can have anyone in this bar, and I’m not sure freshman Hunter makes the cut, even if he is wearing a Briar hockey jacket.

Across the room, the chick we’re admiring suddenly turns around. Just like that, my appreciation fizzles into disgust. “Oh hell no. Stay away from that one, kid. She’s toxic.”

“She doesn’t look toxic to me,” Hunter drawls.

Naive bastard. Luckily, I know better. Sabrina James is undeniably gorgeous, but I’d pour hot wax on my balls before I’d hook up with her. Well, before I’d hook up with heragain.

Yup. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

Someone jostles me from behind, and I turn to find Tucker approaching. His black-and-silver jacket is soaking wet, and so is his hair.

“Je-sus. It’s coming down hard out there.” He does a full-body shake like a dog who’s just scampered out of a lake.

“Hey Fido, go dry off somewhere else,” I order as cold droplets splash my face and hit me in the eye.

Hunter doesn’t even notice that Tucker is dripping water all over our shoes. He’s too busy ogling Sabrina.

Tuck follows the freshman’s gaze. “Nice,” he remarks, then turns to grin at me. “I take it you already called dibs?”

I blanch. “Not a chance. That’s Sabrina, bro. She already busts my balls in class on a daily basis. I don’t need her busting them outside of school.”

Sabrina and I are both poli sci majors on the pre-law path, so we share way too many classes for my peace of mind. We both applied to Harvard Law too, which I’m not particularly happy about. The thought of spending three more years sitting in the same lecture halls as her doesn't sound at all appealing.

“Wait, that’s Sabrina?” Tucker says in surprise. “I see her around campus all the time, but I didn’t realize she’s the one you’re always bitching about.”

“One and the same.”

His southern drawl rears up. “Damn shame. She sure is fine to look at.”

“What’s the deal with you two?” Hunter pipes up. “She your ex?”

I recoil again. “Fuck no.”

“So I won’t be breaking the bro code if I make a move?”

“You want to make a move? Go nuts. But I’m warning you, that bitch will eat you alive.”

Sabrina’s head turns sharply toward us. She probably has some kind of internal radar that goes off every time someone calls her a bitch. I bet it goes off a lot.

As our gazes lock, she smirks at me, then flips up her middle finger before turning to talk to her friend.

Hunter groans. “Well, there goes that. She won’t give me the time of day now that she saw me with you. What’d you do to her, anyway?”

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