Page 21 of The Wrong Play

“Screw it,” I muttered. “Just make me something. I don’t care what.”

The bartender gave me a look, but he didn’t argue. “Card on file?”

I grimaced, then nodded, sliding my credit card across the counter. I’d have just one. Anything beyond that would break the bank. Turns out, working two campus jobs for minimum wage still took a really, really long time to add up to decent money.

But it was better than the alternative.

A minute later, the bartender placed a dark blue drink in front of me with a lime wedge on the rim. It looked…innocent.

I took a sip and immediately regretted everything.

It tasted like cough syrup, chased with a punch to the throat. I forced myself to swallow, plastering on an expression that said,Yeah,this is totally fine.I’m not dying.

The bartender smirked before turning away.

Drink in hand, I wove my way back through the crowd, scanning for literally anyone I recognized. The crush of bodies felt like a trap, every brush of skin making my nerves itch. My stomach twisted. Nope. Not for me.

Five more minutes, and then I was getting the hell out of here.

JACE

The bar was packed.

The bass pounded through my chest, rattling my ribs like it was trying to restart my heart. Beer in hand, I scanned the room, surveying the drunken chaos, the crowd who had come out tonight to celebrate a Tiger’s win.

I wasn’t in the mood for this, which was weird. Because I had definitely been in the mood in the locker room.

I wasalwaysin the mood to celebrate a win, to have a good time, for a party, for girls in short dresses who wanted a piece of Tennessee’s star wide receiver. And they were here, throwing looks my way, biting their lips, giving me every green light possible.

I just wasn’t biting back.

My fingers drummed against the neck of my beer bottle as I took a sip, my gaze drifting to where Parker and Casey were tucked in a corner of the bar. She was laughing, pressed against his side, his arm curled around her waist like he’d rather die than let her go.

It was disgusting. It was pathetic. It waseverything I wanted.

I hated myself a little for it.

I scoffed and turned away, rolling my shoulders like I could shake off the weight settling in my chest. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I had everything.

Football. Friends. The kind of life every guy fucking dreamed about.

But lately, when I actually let myself think for too long, I’d started to get this nagging, empty fucking feeling in my gut. And no matter how many girls threw themselves at me, no matter how many parties I went to, I couldn’t shake it.

I was a disappointment to myself was what I was at the moment.

I tipped my beer back, chugging the rest, setting the bottle down with a little too much force.

“You good, Jace-face?” Matty’s voice cut through my pity party, amusement laced in his tone as he leaned against the bar next to me.

“Yeah.” I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Just over…everything.”

Matty snorted, his eyebrow lifting in amusement because apparently it wasfunnyto him that I was undergoing an existential crisis. Either that or an alien had inhabited my body. I wasn’t quite sure. The guy didn’t know funny when it hit him in the face, but evidently he’d decided I was funny tonight.

Another point in the rude column, thank you very little.

“You? Over a bar filled with girls who woulddieto ride your face?”

---