Page 20 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

As the night goes on and the club gets busier, Megan and I work alongside each other and watch the game, taking turns to shout out the score every few seconds during busier times. There are only a few minutes left on the clock, and the Hawks are winning, though not by much. It’s close.

Easton’s not himself tonight. I mean, he is —he’s grinning and doing that little hip rolling dance he and Carter do every time they score—but something is off. It’s his energy. His body language. The way he’s playing and holding himself. It’s not right.

I wonder if I’m the only one who can tell.

I keep glancing at the screen, worrying my lip between my teeth, and catch Megan eyeing me funny—but she doesn’t call me out.

By some miracle, I manage not to fuck up any drinks as the clock ticks down to the final minute.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Easton steals the ball from the other team and runs with it.

Just as he’s about to pass to Nate, someone fouls Easton, and he goes down, his back hitting the court.

Time stands still. My heart pounds in my ears, and I begin to sweat as I wait for him to get up.

Get up, damn it.

Nate and Carter haul Easton to his feet, and he shoves the other player in the chest. The guy steps in, their foreheads pressed together as they argue.

I know Easton’s body like my own, and everything about his stance screams he’s about to snap.

But before he can, Nate and Carter block him, forming a wall between him and the guy he’s gunning for.

They crowd him, pushing him back, and Nate lowers his head, murmuring something.

Easton’s shoulders are up to his ears. Nate keeps talking, then grabs his face and gives it a shake.

Finally, Easton exhales, shoulders dropping as he nods and steps up to the free-throw line.

Megan and I both watch the ball fall through the hoop both times, the second shot going in just as the final whistle blows. The Hawks win. Megan cheers and pours herself a shot. I push out a relieved breath, my heart still racing as I get back to work.

The next hour and a half goes by quickly.

The club is getting busier as the night rolls on, but I’m managing to keep up just fine.

It’s keeping my thoughts away from Easton.

Sort of. I still find myself studying the girls in here from time to time, wondering which of them Easton might have hooked up with.

He doesn’t have a preference when it comes to hair color or body type.

He’s drawn to people’s energy. Their vibe and the way they vibe with him.

The tiny, five-foot-nothing blonde girl I’m making a vodka tonic for is too quiet for him.

Too shy. He’d eat her alive. Her friend though?

She’s exactly the type of girl he’d go for.

Taller. Brown hair. Nice lips. A big mouth…

“I haven’t seen you before,” she yells at me to be heard over the noise. “Are you new?”

“Yeah. It’s my first shift.”

“Oh my God. You’re British.”

I chuckle awkwardly and nod.

Leaning her forearms on the bar, she pushes up on her tiptoes and asks, “Do I have a shot with you?”

I shake my head. “I’m?—

“Unavailable,” someone cuts in, and I snap my eyes to the left, finding Easton leaning his elbow on the bar, facing the girl I’m talking to. He grins at her. “Hey there, big mouth.”

“Easton!” She hugs him, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, looking at me over her head.

I clench my jaw.

She says something to him I can’t hear, presumably about the game, before releasing him and turning back to me. “Unavailable, huh?”

I lift my hands, unsure what else to do.

“Well, if you’re ever available , come find me.” She winks, picking up her drink. As she leaves with her friend, she runs into Frankie, wrapping her arm around her neck and pressing her lips to her ear.

“Do you even know her name?” I ask Easton.

“I think it’s Taylor. Or Tina, maybe. She’s friends with Frankie and she has a little crush on Xavi. And now you.”

“Did you fuck her?”

He chuckles, turning his body toward me to lean both elbows on the bar, taking Taylor or Tina’s previous spot. “I think it’s more fun if I don’t tell you.”

I huff out a breath, still hung up on the fact he told her I was unavailable. “Why didn’t you just let me tell her I was gay?”

“Because if they know you’re gay, the guys in here will swarm like bees.” He makes a swarming motion with his fingers. “How many times have you been hit on tonight?”

I fumble for words. “I?—”

“Megan!” Easton calls. “How many times has he been hit on tonight?”

“About thirty. Maybe more. I lost count.”

I splutter. “She’s lying. It hasn’t been that many.”

Easton smiles at my embarrassment and looks at Megan. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

“As a button.”

He laughs while I glare at the pair of them.

“And no, before you ask,” he says for my ears only, leaning in closer. “I didn’t fuck Megan. And I didn’t fuck Taylor or Tina either. Happy?”

“Yeah,” I say, making his smile grow. I smile back. It’s nice to see it again. “You’re in a better mood than you were two hours ago.”

“How do you know what mood I was in two hours ago?”

“We watched your game on Megan’s phone. You were great. I’m proud of you, E.”

He licks his lips, his eyes dropping to my mouth, then down my body. I’m wearing black ripped jeans and a black vest with oversized armholes, revealing a little more skin than I usually do, but not as much as some of the other bartenders who are wearing crop tops or nothing at all above the waist.

“You noticed,” he says, his eyes moving back up to my face.

“Noticed what?”

“What mood I was in. I thought I hid it quite well, excluding the last sixty seconds of the game.”

“You did,” I say. “You can’t hide from me though.”

He stares at me.

“Are you okay?” I ask, gesturing to his back.

He nods. “Yeah. It was nothing. I’m all better now.”

“Good.”

Nodding again, he steps back and taps the bar with his knuckles, turning as if he’s about to walk away.

“Don’t you want a drink?” I ask, attempting to keep him here a little while longer.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

With that, he leaves and joins Nate, Xavi, Carter, Frankie, Taylor or Tina, and some other people on the dance floor. Pulling his mask into place, Easton dances with them as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, and another piece of my heart breaks off.

A little while later, Micah, one of the male dancers, steps off his podium and walks over to the bar.

I pass him a bottle of water and a towel, and he thanks me, wiping the sweat from his face.

He’s shirtless, as are all the other male dancers.

The female dancers are all wearing some type of bodysuit, some more revealing than others.

“Megan, I need a break,” Micah rasps.

She nods, tipping her chin at me. “Adam, you’re up. Trade places with Micah.”

I widen my eyes at her in horror. What the bloody hell does she mean by that?

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s your turn on the podium.”

“Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “I’m not getting up there.”

She ignores me. “Shirt off, cutie.”

“Megan, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“We all do it.” She shrugs, lifting her shirt to reveal a teal blue bodysuit underneath. “You want the job or not?”

Micah comes around behind the bar to take my place, giving me a little smack on the hip with an encouraging smile. “Thirty minutes. You got this, cutie .”

I’m still shaking my head, turning to search for Easton in the crowd. When I spot him, I’m outraged to find a sneaky little smirk on his face, his brows lifting in a silent challenge. A dare.

I grit my teeth, and he cocks his head. You wanna play or not? he mouths.

Growling under my breath, I pour myself a double whiskey and Coke, knock it back, and summon all the courage I have, which isn’t a lot.

“Atta boy,” Megan says as I pull my shirt off and make my way around to the dance floor.

As I pass Easton, I wedge myself between him and the several bodies surrounding him and press in close, my lips touching his ear. “I’m going to kill you.”