Page 19 of Winter Break Up

“Yep. My family is going to Florida for Christmas, so that’ll be fun.” Erica sips her drink, shifting her eyes around.

Nicole and Kayla seem to be all over the two guys I don’t know, and I assume they are boyfriends from college or something.

“Is your brother here?” Laine asks.

Vaguely, I remember Charlie having a thing with her sometime in our teens, but that doesn’t surprise me. My brother is, as I said, popular. Not that I want to think about his love life or other scandalizing things, but he had a lot of girls who he talked to in high school. Being home for winter break, especially in this bar, it wouldn’t surprise me if a bunch of people act on their little winter break fling ideas.

“He’s around here somewhere, I think.” I hadn’t checked in with him before going to meet Gen at her house.

Although he convinced Dad to pick us all up around midnight by promising he wouldn’t drink and drive. Leave it to my brother to get our parents to taxi our drunk asses around.

“You guys see that Mercer Russell is here?” one of the guys speaks up, his eyes shifting across the room.

“Yeah, we went to high school with him.” Erica smirks like she’s close to him or something.

Internally, I roll my eyes. I hate it when people throw his celebrity around like they know him to make themselves look cool. But my teeth clamp into my tongue when Gen eyes me like she knows what I want to say.

“He’s supposed to be the next superstar of the American soccer world, and he’s just right here in this bar. Damn shame about his knee, that whole being passed over in the draft thing was insane. No one saw that coming. Fucking wild. You think he’ll sign something if I ask him?” Unfamiliar guy asks again, and internally, I bristle.

I might not be with him anymore, I might not be his favorite person, but I’m still protective of Mercer. Much of his life is already playing out in the media, and he can’t go many places without it being shown on social media. But this is his hometown, and he deserves to have a good night with friends while expecting privacy. This random guy is going to ruin that, and I know it bugs Mercer on some level. He told me, once upon a time, that all he wanted for an hour or two was to be left alone if that’s what he chose.

My gaze follows the guy’s finger, which is very obviously and shamelessly pointing at Mercer across the room. When I look over, two girls are practically hanging all over him and Charlie, and my heart lurches into my throat.

So much for looking out for him when I’m clearly not a thought that crosses his mind. Fuck, I am a sucker.

It’s not like he owes me anything, but it would have been nice to sit and chat with a drink tonight. To not watch some chick try to feel his abs under his shirt. The thought of him going home with someone makes bile collect at the base of my throat.

“I wouldn’t. He’s with his home friends. Be cool.” Gen rolls her eyes at the guy, and Nicole glares at her.

Doesn’t look like she likes my friend making fun of her boyfriend, but hey, Genny isn’t wrong.

“Yeah, he’s trying to lie low,” I speak up, not sure why, but it comes out just the same.

“Mercer is super chill, but agreed. If I go over to talk to Charlie, maybe you can come with me,” Laine tells Nicole’s boy.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to pull my gaze from the soccer star in question, and he hasn’t done anything to shoo away the girls buzzing around him. My mind floats to the conversation he had with my mom in the kitchen yesterday and how he said his next chapter was coming.

Is this just a preview of what I’ll have to witness in the media when he’s a pro athlete?

Because I’ve zoned out, I don’t realize it when his eyes collide with mine until it’s too late. The blue orbs blaze a path up my body, drinking in my skintight jeans and sweater as if to make me feel naked under their assessment. The corner of his mouth tips up and I get his dimple, the thing that always causes my knees to buckle.

Five minutes or so of small talk with the group pass by as I finish my margarita, and Mercer still won’t stop staring at me. Our connection sizzles through the throngs of people and the thump of the music. My skin feels too tight and hot, my lungs won’t work correctly, and my core throbs like I haven’t been brought to orgasm in years. Honestly, not since him has it been done properly.

Feeling agitated, a little tipsy, and like I’m about to fall into something stupid, I turn and excuse myself from the group. I’m trying to head across the bar to the bathroom when someone stops me. Diane, a girl from my childhood soccer team, wants to know how my parents are doing. But before I can answer, a hand molds to the small of my back.

“Hey, I need to talk to you.”

Mercer’s deep timbre tickles close to my ear, and I physically shiver, though I’m hoping neither he nor Diane notice. Give me one margarita, and I’m apparently putty in this man’s hands. Oh, who am I kidding? I melt for much less over him.

“Oh, Mercer, hey!” Diane’s smile increases tenfold.

“Good to see you. Will you excuse us?” He flashes a good-natured smile at our old classmate and then steers me in the other direction without an answer.

“What’re you doing?” I’m confused when he pulls me into a darker, less crowded corner of the bar.

Everyone can still see us over here, but they probably can’t hear us. Still, I’m sure someone will pick up on the fact that two exes are having a hushed conversation.

“Em, cut the shit.” His body vibrates with seriousness.

---