Page 59 of Famous Last Words
I shove Dallas out the way, wrapping my arm back around Fran and whispering, “Just one drink.”
“Will there really be puck bunnies?” She glances up at me, big blue eyes fraught with worry.
And I know what she’s really scared of. She’s scared of the women from the internet, the ones who have gone out of their way to hate on her for no other reason than the fact that she’sdatingme. If I’m honest, it’s those women who give the puck bunnies a bad rep. Bunnies are harmless most of the time; the crazy fangirls are the real problem.
I squeeze her waist, ducking my head so my lips brush against her ear. “You don’t have to worry with me around. I got you.”
We head to a hole-in-the-wall bar in Hell’s Kitchen with a small neon sign hanging over the door that displays a flashingNed’s. Inside, it’s all dark and dingy, with brick walls, concrete floor, worn leather booths. There are some high-top tables dotted about, a couple of 80s-style pinball machines set up in the back next to a pool table, and an old jukebox playing some killer classics.Apparently, this is where the guys go for a low-key drink after a home game when they don’t feel like being bothered, and I can see why; apart from a few welcome cheers and the occasional congratulatory slap on the back, we’re otherwise left alone.
The beer Dallas handed me the moment we walked in over an hour ago remains untouched, held in my hand at all times to give off the illusion of drinking. Thankfully, no one’s noticed. I sit in a booth with Logan, Dallas, Tyler, and one of our second line d-men, Happy, shooting the shit, while Fran, Hannah and Vera play a game of pool, which is really just them shooting random balls all over the table and anywhere but into the pockets. It’s entertaining but also nice that I get to watch Fran bend over because in those pants—man, her ass is something else. And, since I’m technically sitting here in front of everyone as herboyfriend, I can get my fix without trying not to get caught.
Yes, I have come to terms with the fact that FranfuckingKeller is hot and not the bane of my existence that my fragile, teenage boy mind made her out to be all those years ago.
“Another drink?” I ask the guys, pushing out of the booth.
Of course, they all cheer, and I cast them a grin before turning and heading for the bar, which is when my gaze lands on Fran as she’s bending over. I catch a glimpse down the front of her suit jacket and holy shit. She’s not wearing anything under it. Not even a bra. I almost stumble over my own size thirteens. Just as I collect myself, I realize she’s looking at me and not at the ball she’s aiming for, and a knowing smirk ghosts her pretty lips.
With a hard exhale, I force myself to look away, pushing my hair back from my face.Fuck me.
“Same again, Mason?” The bartender lifts his chin at me.
“Uh, yeah.” I raise my full, warm bottle of beer in the air, leaning over the counter so he can hear my lowered voice. “Can you get me a fresh one?”
He eyes the untouched Miller Lite, his brow furrowing momentarily before realization settles across his face. With a kind, understanding smile, he says, “Sure thing.”
Resting my forearms against the counter, I look at all the sports memorabilia lining the walls, posters signed by some of the greats, and I can’t help but smile because this is the kind of bar I can handle. I hate all those pretentious hotspots, wall-to-wall d-bags and people just there to be seen; this is my kind of place.
“Hey, whatcha doing?”
I turn my head to find Fran’s face right there next to me, her hand snaking around my back and resting dangerously close to my ass. And it’s only now that I’m noticing just how rosy her cheeks are, eyes slightly glazed, lids droopier than normal.
I duck my head a little closer, offering her a knowing grin. “You drunk, Keller?”
Her face twists adorably as if in serious thought. “Nah, just a little tipsy,” she shrugs. “I didn’t have any dinner because of stupid Tadd…” she drags the word out as her eyes go wide, and it’s clear she didn’t mean for that to slip out.
“Tadd?” I turn to face her fully, my brows lowering as anger bubbles in my chest.
She blinks at me, and I can tell she’s trying to think of a lie, so I arch a brow, fold my arms across my chest, spearing her with a warning look. “Keller?”
She heaves a sigh, her shoulders falling with resignation. “I lied to you.”
“Youliedto me. What does that mean?” I press, impatient because I just don’t have itin me to deal with another fucking liar in my life.
Fran drags her teeth over her plump bottom lip, clearly hesitant. But just when it looks like she’s about to talk, we’re interrupted by fucking Dallas and I almost tell him to fuck right off.
“Where’s the drinks, my guy?” He slaps me on my shoulder, oblivious to the tension currently settled between Fran and me.
“Here you go, fellas.” The bartender places a tray of drinks onto the counter, and without even acknowledging him, I hand over my card, my steely gaze still set firmly on Fran.
“Is… everything okay?” Dallas asks, picking up the tray, his curious gaze flitting between me and Fran.
Fran offers him a tight smile. I offer nothing more than a grunt. Thankfully he takes that as his cue and carries the drinks back to the guys.
“When you asked me if Tadd has been causing trouble, and I told you he hasn’t,” Fran begins, stepping up to me. “I lied.”
I’m momentarily relieved because in the completely messed up part of my mind that is scarred from past betrayals, I thought she was about to tell me she lied about her and Tadd being over. But then when I realize what she’s just said, my anger is back.
“What did he do?” I ask through gritted teeth.
