Page 25 of Jace
I furrow my brow. The soccer team? Jace is on that team, right? He doesn't talk much about them, though. Just complains about how practice eats up a lot of his time, which he'd rather spend on studying or with his band. Their schedule isn't nearly as demanding as ours–pretty sure it's not even half as rigorous–but he still trains a few times a week and has a match every other weekend.
Granted, he usually warms the bench during games, but he does have a partial scholarship for the sport. Missy helped him secure that when he applied to this college. At least, that's what he told me.
I absentmindedly trace the rim of my empty coffee mug. I could go for a beer, of course, but I know better. If I want to be the best, I have to act like the best, which means no alcohol for the entire roster before game day. Coaches orders. Tomorrow's home game is more crucial than a night of drinks. After two wins, we’re aiming for it to become a three in a row.
But those guys over there? Yeah, they’re drinking big time. And being loud as fuck as they do.
“They don't even look twenty-one,” I tell Kaylee after a moment. “At least not all of them. You think Gus knows?”
Kaylee shrugs at that. “Probably not, he’s very strict when it comes to underage drinking in his bar, so if he’d known, they wouldn’t be drinking. But why do you care?”
I grunt. I can’t quite pinpoint it, but something feels off. Lamar seems to sense my unease, since he drops down again on the bench, pushing my leg away to make room for his big ass as he goes.
“What's up?” he asks, nodding toward the table a few down. “Are they causing trouble?”
“Not yet,” I reply absently as I attempt to take a sip from my empty coffee cup, grimacing when I realize it's empty. Kaylee chuckles at my misfortune and slides her diet coke in my direction. She's not drinking tonight either. For moral support, she claims. It's our usual Friday date night, and she even suggested crashing at my place tonight since I need to be at the stadium at the crack of dawn for our pregame briefing.
So maybe I’ll finally get lucky tonight. Yay for me.
“What do you mean, 'not yet'?” Lamar prods when I don't elaborate.
“I don't know. I just overheard them saying something about Jace.”
“Half the bar is usually always saying something about Jace, man. So that doesn't really mean anything.”
“Yeah, but it wasn't the typical 'I want to sleep with him' or the ‘oh-my-god-he-is-looking-at-me!’” I exclaim in a girly voice, which earns me a flick against my cap from Kaylee.
“We don’t sound like that!”
“Good to know you're placing yourself in their category,” I deadpan.
“Which category?”
“Jace's groupies,” I tease, once again tugging at the edge of her skirt. She swats my hand away, giving me an exasperated huff.
“Please. He doesn’t have groupies.”
“He totally does,” Lamar butts in, waving toward the packed wooden tables right by the stage, filled with girls and the occasional guy. “What do you call that, then?”
“Enthusiastics.”
“Well, if they get any more enthusiastic, we might need to hire security,” Lamar laughs, his massive frame shaking. “Don't you think Gus needs to bring in a few more bouncers? This place is getting pretty crowded lately.”
I nod in agreement. “It's probably got something to do with them, with him,” I conclude with a nod at the stage, just when Jace is belting out the last notes of their set. Maybe it’s a bit sad that I know when the set ends. I reallyamspending too much time here.
“But just look at him,” Kaylee whispers, her words so soft I'm not sure if she meant for me to hear.
“You sure you don’t want to join the groupie table?” I poke her side, earning a glare from her baby blues.
“I’d totally do Jace if I was doing dudes,” Lamar interrupts suddenly, making me blink.
“You would?” I ask, stunned really that he thinks about stuff like that. Or admits to it. Out loud.
“Oh, absolutely. Just look at him,” he continues in an over-the-top swoony tone, his head leaning onto the back of his hands, dark eyes batting at us.
Kaylee swats at him for mocking her, muttering something like 'you're such an idiot' as she squirms off my lap, crawling over Lamar and out of the booth. I might’ve copped a little feel under her skirt, earning myself a glare that isn't quite a glare because of the half-concealed smile on her lips.
“I'm going to hang out with the girls for a while before this booth turns into a band and groupie haven,” she announces, leaning over Lamar–who is trying his damn best to evade her tits in his face, yelling ‘abort abort’–to give me a quick, sticky lip-balm flavored kiss. “Behave.”
