Page 4 of Matched By My Rival
“Something came up. My roommate needs my help Thursday night.” He shot me a grimace. “I’m scheduled to work a full shift, and I kind of need the hours, but…”
“Ah.” I continued to pull a beer, tilting the frosted mug to get the best head of foam. There was an art to it, I’d learned. Rhett had taught me, in fact, after I’d taken this job to help pay for school. It seemed fitting: Beer had gotten me into trouble—well, that and my temper—so it might as well help pay for school. “Well, if you need someone to cover, I could do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I tried to work weekends only to maintain some semblance of a normal school week, but it wasn’t as if I couldn’t use the money.
After everything that happened—losing my scholarship, losing my place on the football team—I’d nearly left school. I hadn’t seen much of an alternative when the video of my altercation with Parker went viral, thanks to some blog calledCollege Athletes Behaving Badly. But a lot of people had stepped up to help me. My frat had gone out on a limb to create a scholarship just for me, and my grandparents—despite my protests—had insisted I finish my degree on campus, rather than take a year off to save or try to transfer somewhere with lower tuition.
I’d only accepted their offer with the caveat that I repay every penny. My older sister needed money for culinary school, and like hell I was going to suck it all up. Chels had been waiting long enough, with an unexpected pregnancy putting her plans on hold. Joey was great, a real sweet kid who she’d nurtured up to school age before attempting to pursue career plans. But now it was her turn.
Rhett flashed a flirty smile as he slid a glass across the bar to a guy in a fitted button-down, skinny jeans, and fuck-me eyes.
The pretty boy slid a five into Rhett’s tip jar and sashayed away. Did Rhett realize he was gay and play up the smile for a tip—or was Rhett into men? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t asking. My gaze followed the swish of those hips for a beat too long before Rhett drew my attention back to him.
“Thanks, man,” he said. “I hate to miss work, but I don’t think he has anyone else he can count on.”
“No problem. I probably owe you for something anyway.” I plonked a beer mug onto the bar in front of a waiting customer and watched him walk off without tipping me. I really needed to work on remembering to smile.
I may have realized my temper had fucked me over royally, but that didn’t mean I’d become Mr. Sunshine either. Not sure I was capable of bringing down the walls I’d been building up since my dad had become the king of pyramid schemes and lost our house. Mom hadn’t lasted long in the marriage after that, and I couldn’t blame her.
Rhett grabbed a bottle of beer and handed it over, swiping up cash from the bar in one easy motion while he cocked an eyebrow at me. “That’s right. I did train your ass.” He paused. “In bartending, I mean.”
He winked, further muddying my read on his sexuality. Not that it mattered. I might have an interest in guys, which had been ramping up steadily now that I was out of football, but I wasn’t going to mess with a co-worker—even a guy as cute and fit as Rhett.
“Fair point. I guess it’s the least I can do,” I said with a mock sigh.
Rhett grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
I snorted. “Something tells me you make sure everyone sees it your way.”
He chuckled as he slipped to the far end of the bar and leaned forward to take another order. Slim, with nice muscle tone, he was a far cry from most of the guys on the football team, but I’d lay money Rhett was athletic. A runner, maybe?
He glanced my way, and I redirected my eyes to the line forming in front of the bar. I had drinks to sling. The last thing I needed was to eye up my co-worker, especially one who was practically my supervisor. But it was past time I considered what I wanted to do with my attraction to men. Because if Rhett was tripping my trigger, I might finally be ready to explore—somewhere far away from work, that was. With someone anonymous, someone who I wouldn’t have to see again.
Someone…from a hookup app.
I glanced at the time. Only three more hours till last call.
Three hours, and then I could do something about the building need inside—even if it was only to scan some hot guy’s pics and jerk off alone. But who knew? Maybe I’d get up the courage to swipe right. Maybe I’d find the balls to finally flirt. Maybe I’d find someone with the patience to deal with a guy who didn’t know what he wanted yet.
My luck had to change, right? After everything I’d lost, I deserved something, some little silver lining—even if I had brought most of my misery down on myself.
* * *
PARKER
I ran long for a pass, beer sloshing over the rim of the cold can in my left hand. There were hoots of laughter as I spun to set the can on the ground and raised my hands. The ball went wide—by about a mile.
“For fuck’s sake,” I called.
“What? I’m not a QB!” Cruz shouted, right before tripping over his own feet and hitting the ground with a thud.
“Thank fuck for that!” Johnston crowed, laughing so hard he had to bend over.
Cruz and Johnston were linebackers, big guys more accustomed to knocking me on my ass than throwing me the ball, but we were just screwing around. It was the off season, so while we still had regular training, we weren’t playing games every week. We’d been guzzling beer like Gatorade, trash talking each other, and tossing the football around for the past hour.
