Page 11 of Bite Your Tongue

My eyes shift back to Saylor while Logan and Smith work out whatever details they are trying to. She stands there, clearly uncomfortable. I’m sure she has no idea who has seen the footage of her and who hasn’t. That has to be nerve-racking. But she won’t even look at me, and I can’t help but wonder if that asshole Rowan told her some shit about me seeing the video.

I mean, I saw a few seconds of it, but I didn’t mean to. And I had no idea it was her.

Maybe she’s just feeling awkward because we hooked up recently. Who knows?

She used me, and I liked it.

Who am I kidding? I loved it.

Once it’s all settled and Smith and Saylor finally take their seats, it’s not lost on me that she chose to sit at the seat farthest away from me, all while never looking my way. I know she’s trying to pretend our night together in my truck didn’t happen.

That’s all right though. She can’t avoid me forever.

For the entirety of this dinner, I’ve felt Ryder’s stare on me. It’s annoying because I have no interest in a repeat. I mean, have I thought about it? Sure. Have I thought about it late at night when I’m alone in my bed? Maybe.

Will I go there again? Fuck no. I don’t care how ginormous his willy is or how well he uses it. I’ve turned a new leaf. And I’m no longer hooking up with my brother’s best friends because, you know … it’s the right thing to do.

“Dude, what the fuck is the deal with Epscott?” my brother says to some of the guys.

Instantly, my stomach is in knots. I avoid Tripp’s gaze because there’s no way in hell I’d risk looking at him and falling apart—again. I mean, the man was at the bar the other night. He already knows I threw myself at Ryder hours after he told me the truth.

“I’m not sure. Coach has been pretty hush-hush over it,” Logan answers with a mouthful of food. “He’s a fucking creep though.” He looks at me, cringing in the most adorable way because … it’s Logan and everything he does is adorable. “Sorry, Saylor. I know you two had a thing.”

“Pfft, please. You could cover him in cooking oil and set him on fire in front of me, and I’d cheer like we were at a hibachi grill, watching our steaks be cooked. Trust me on that.”

Logan stares blankly at me, blinking a few times before nodding. “Good to know.”

I feel Ryder’s and Tripp’s stare on me, and I shift uncomfortably in my chair, ready to get the hell out of here.

“Is there cake?” Amelia says, looking right at me because her dumbass father made her think I was throwing a damn birthday party, and of course, at parties, there’s cake.

Either way, I’m grateful for the interruption because it’ll get me out of this chair and away from Ryder and Tripp.

She’s so cute. How in the world could I say no to that face?

I glance toward the bar, where there are a few bartenders—handsome ones at that—chatting while the bar is mostly empty.

“You know what? Let me see what I can do, babe.” I wink at her and scooch my chair backward.

Even as I’m walking away, I can still feel a set of eyes on my back. Well, on my ass, to be precise.

Strutting right to the counter, I lean forward, coyly tilting my head to the side when the hotter bartender of the two smiles at me.

“Hi there,” I say, keeping my voice silky smooth as he walks in front of me. “It’s my big brother’s birthday. And while I don’t really care if he gets cake, there’s an adorable child over there who really wants some. I don’t suppose you two would be able to find something in the back, would you?”

“I don’t think there’s a random cake in the back,” one says with a smirk.

Suddenly, there’s a body beside mine.

“You know, that’s probably something you could have asked our waiter,” a deep voice drawls, and I don’t even have to turn my head to know that Ryder is beside me—all too close.

“Well, I suppose I could have,” I respond. “But seeing as these fellas look like a treat, I figured they’d know where to find one.”

Hotter bartender grins, finishing wiping a glass before setting it down. “Let me mention it to the kitchen. I’m sure they can figure something out.”

His teeth are incredibly white against his flawless skin. He looks like he just stepped out of a magazine, but what’s annoying is that the guy beside me is still hotter.

Stupid hot-boy genes.

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