Page 39 of How to Score Off Field

He’s right of course, one-night stands aren’t my style but neither is breaking bro code. Normally reserved for ex-girlfriends of your buddies, or women your buddies have banged, moms, or anyone your friend is crushing on or trying to bone.

I’ve added Tess to this list, out of respect.

“Grady has no respect for you, dude. If he did, he’d be hanging out with you. He knows your time is valuable, and you get no time off, so where the fuck is he?”

I couldn’t care less about that.

I needed a break anyway.

I needed to get away from school, the girls next door, my brother, our teammates, the endless rotation of the same shit, day after day after day. So who cares if my friend isn’t around. He’s keeping me occupied, isn’t he?

“So Tess isn’t your type?”

“No…she is.”

My type: low maintenance, kind, funny, great personality. I love brunettes and long hair. I’m a leg man and a boob guy. Love someone who’s outgoing but not loud and obnoxious.

“Then tell me what the problem is.”

“The problem is she’s giving me mixed signals.”

Now it’s Drake that’s sighing heavily. “And you’re too chickenshit to make a move?”

I guess. “I’m not going to see her after this weekend, so what would be the point?”

My brother grins. “That’s exactly the point.”

CHAPTER14

DREW

SINGLE FOR SO LONG I FORGOT HOW TO SPELL RELATESINGLESHIP.

If I was confused earlier,I’m more fucking confused now.

The honky-tonk is loud and crowded, but there is no mistaking Tess when she appears with a large group of young women. The scene they cause when they walk through the doors is enough to draw all the eyes in the room despite the music blasting from the speakers.

The bride-to-be leads the way, wearing all white and a sash that says “BRIDE” while her bridesmaids wear sashes that say “BRIDESMAID” or “MAID OF HONOR.” The entire gaggle of them sports coordinating outfits.

White.

The theme is white.

I glance down at my shirt, wishing I’d packed dressier clothes ’cause suddenly this shirt feels all wrong. And too small, the short sleeves squeezing my biceps ’cause it don’t fit right.

It’s a polo shirt but still.

Too small.

It pulls across my chest in an uncomfortable way, or maybe I’m just feeling self-conscious after my day date with Tess.

She smacked me on the ass and winked at me.

Now what the hell could that mean?

Had she been flirting?

No way.

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