Page 26 of I Blame the Club

Silence ensues and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I am a sucker for family drama, but this shit is above my pay grade.

The light turns green and Mo calmly presses the accelerator. His entire posture screams tense but it hasn’t affected his driving in the slightest. It’s as though he’s been trained to stay on autopilot.

Sadness hits me and for once it’s not about the fact that a smouldering man is within touching distance but off-limits. I’m finally starting to understand where Mo’s intensity comes from and it’s not from a happy family life.

Mo clears his throat, breaking my train of thought, “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Jonathan hangs up without another word and I wince.

“Guess your family isn’t big onI love you, hey?”

It’s a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood but I’m desperate.

“You could say that.”

Mo doesn’t crack a smile as he flicks the indicator for the university exit. A twinge of disappointment hits my chest at the thought of our day together ending so soon. The car doesn’t slow down until we drive past the university and I heave a sigh at the sight of my residence building.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today. It was… interesting.”

Mo glances over with a frown, “Who said anything about it being over?”

My heart stutters when we roll by the exit for my building. A massive smile takes over my face when I see what’s coming up ahead.

“Just wanted to get the words out sober.”

A smirk pulls at his mouth, “Sure. You ready to get drunk, Montez?”

“The answer to that question will always be yes.”

“You and me. Pool. Now.”

Stumbling off my barstool, I hiss in pain when my battered body hits the counter.

“Didn’t realize you enjoyed losing so much.” Mo grins, his face slightly flushed from the six rounds of tequila shots we did.

Was it six or eight rounds? I can’t really remember.

Steadying me with his arm, Mo helps me wobble over to the pool table tucked in the corner of the dim sports bar. Purposefully leaning in closer, I shamelessly inhale the expensive cologne wafting off his skin. Smelling the scent on the man himself is one hundred times better than walking around in his clothes.

“Babe, you smell fucking delicious. What cologne do you use?”

He smirks, “Obsession by Calvin Klein. You can order it from Amazon.”

“I’m ordering a bucket when I get home.”

Mo laughs and leaves my side to round up the cue stick.

“You know how to play 8-ball?”

He grabs the rubber rectangle from the wall and puts everything in position. His shirt stretches across his broad back when he leans over the pool table and my level of intoxication skyrockets.

Who the fuck needs tequila when you have an assistant coach who looks like this.

“Hell yeah, I do.”

“Good. You can break.” Passing me the cue stick, Mo gives me a devilish grin, “Figure you could use the head start.”

Lust and tequila race through my system as I snatch the cue stick from him.

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