Page 81 of Saving Sparrow
“What’s up?” I craned my head around, trying to see past the dancing bodies to make sure Elliott and Miguel were where I’d left them. They weren’t sitting anymore, but at least they were still near the loveseat. One of Miguel’s favorite songs came on, and he two-stepped to the beat while Elliott took in the action on the dance floor.
“Great game tonight,” Darren slurred. “You keep that up and we’ll be playing at Wembly together next year.” A lot of our teammates had their sights set on the University of Wembly. The D1 school’s winning culture was unmatched. “We’ll be fucking Hawks, bro.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, meaning it. “But I’m already there. I’m just waiting for the offer to come through.”
“You’re such a cocky fucker.” The booze made him laugh harder than necessary.
Miguel’s two-step shifted to an all-out dance routine as the strobe lights seemed to highlight only him.Routinemight have been too tamea word. He circled his hips and arched his back like my dick was inside of him. He drew eyes, Elliott’s included.Hisstare, I didn’t mind. He’d seen much worse. I wanted to flatten everyone else for looking, though.
In my mind, they all wanted him right then—girls and dudes included. To them, he wasn’t the quiet bookworm anymore. He was the tall, dark, Dominican sensation with moves like fucking Jagger. I didn’t like it. I fucking hated it.
I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this.
“I gotta go,” I said to Darren, already stepping away when Troy—our right tackle—appeared out of nowhere.
“The star QB has arrived!” He slung an arm over my shoulder, taking a swig from his beer. “Can’t believe you actually showed up, McAllen.”
Troy followed my line of sight, pointing the butt of his bottle toward Elliott and Miguel. “So, uh, are the three of you like… you know… a thing?” He lifted a brow suggestively when I turned to him, confused.
“What? No,” I snapped, fisting the water bottles. The plastic creaked in my hands. “It’s just me and Miguel. Elliott’s our friend. He’s like family.”
Troy held his hands up. “Easy tiger. Can’t blame a man for being curious. You three are…close. And, well,” he added, throwing his arm over my shoulder again, “you and Miguel are technically like family too, aren’t you?”
“Elliott’s different.”
“Does he know that?” Darren asked from my other side, but his words were barely coherent. He nudged his chin in Elliott’s direction. I frowned, turning to see Elliott watching Miguel in a way that was somehow… different than usual.
“No,” I said distractedly, trying to read the look in Elliott’s eyes. “It isn’t like that.”
“If you say so.” Troy took another swig, the bottleneck barely hiding his grin.
“Fuck you, Sanders,” I gritted out.
“Fuck you, Sanders, fuck you, Daniels, fuck you, Connor…” Darren said, last-naming Troy, JT, and himself, the three guys on the team I was closest to. “When’re you ever gonna be nice to us?”
“How about at your funeral after your parents kill you for throwing this party?” I shrugged Troy’s arm off me.
“Fuck you, McAllen,” they both shouted, laughing as I worked my way back over to Elliott and Miguel.
“Ready?” The question came out hard and wasn’t really a question at all. We were leaving, whether they were ready or not. Miguel finally stopped gyrating his hips, and when he opened his fucking eyes, he looked pleased.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he said, brushing past me.
“You can’t seriously be jealous because I danced for two seconds.” Miguel stormed into our bedroom ahead of me and Elliott.
“It was more like one hundred and eighty seconds,” I shot back. “And who said I’m jealous?”
“No one,” Miguel said innocently.
Elliott fell onto the couch, smirking when I glanced over at him.
“What’s so funny?”
“You know you just proved his point, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” I grumbled, removing my shirt and tossing it on the floor.
“Hey”—Miguel grinned when I grabbed his wrist—“what are you doing?”
