Page 32

Teagan

“No. Absolutely no fecking way am I wearing that. Forget it, Grady.”

It’s the first time we’ve gone out to Paddy’s since coming back from visiting Layla’s family. We had a great time, but I’m delighted to be back home. Or I was until this grand reveal.

“Don’t be such a baby, O’Brien,” Norah laughs, pulling the sketch of me in a shimmering red Devil outfit, fishnet stockings, and matching high heels back to her side of the table. “Yours isn’t even that bad! Ro’s is the worst, and even that isn’t horrible.”

Not that horrible! I beg Eamon to talk some sense, or at least some compassion, into his lass, but he’s clearly siding with the chance of getting laid tonight. Wanker.

“Besides,” Norah continues. “If you had won, you know you wouldn’t let Layla and me out of doing our cheer. It’s not like you’re performing on stage. You’re just modeling the costumes for the actors.”

Scoffing, I glare at the fire sprite. “Oh, is that all? Just my arse exposed and in fucking high heels? I could break my ankle and never be able to play football again!”

Norah winces then concedes, “Okay, no high heels. Just the rest of it! And the makeup will mask your face, so no one will even really know it’s you.”

Eamon groans loudly, “Fuck, I forgot about the makeup. Teagan, you arsehole.”

I’m the arsehole?

Apparently so, because Ro chooses that moment to approach the table and accuse me of being as such. He’s not so cheeky when I show him his costume—a denim Western-themed bustier and matching denim knickers covered in glitter. Oh, and a denim cowboy hat and chaps . His attempt at bribery for Norah to forget the whole deal falls on deaf ears, but when Alicia arrives with a pitcher of water and tells him to suck it up, he changes his tune.

“What the feck is that supposed to mean?” Ro asks indignantly. “Aye, I may know that my body is in pristine condition, but that doesn’t mean I want to go flaunting it in front of Jesus, Mary, Joséph, and the entire drama department!”

For once, I’m in firm agreement with him. There’s a difference between knowing one is fit and showing it off.

“Welcome to the world of women, where we’re expected to look a certain way and dress accordingly to please the male species,” Alicia snaps. “But God forbid something happens to us in those clothes. Then, it’s clearly our fault for dressing provocatively.”

We fall silent, because, not only is she right, but the bitterness lacing her voice implies she has personal experience with this.

“Sorry,” she sighs. “Sensitive subject. Anyway. The point is, don’t be such a baby. Embrace the opportunity and give it your all like you do on the pitch.”

Without another word or even a look at any of us, she pivots and heads back toward the bar. Rowan watches her carefully, his jaw clenched tight. He may try to hide it, but we all know he’s got it bad for Alicia. If anyone hurt her, there’s a good chance he’d fly off the handle. He’s pensive when he turns back to the table and folds his arms across his chest. His mind is working overtime, trying to discover whatever unspoken meaning lies in Alicia’s outburst.

Layla and Norah excuse themselves to go check on their friend, so I take advantage of their absence.

“Ro, you should go talk to her,” I suggest to him.

His amber eyes lock onto mine as his ginger eyebrows furrow. “She’s not going to tell me shite. Alicia is more likely to toss a pint in my face than actually open up to me.”

“I’m not saying to go storming up there, demanding an explanation, mate. Maybe just tell her that if she needs to talk, you’re here for her. And casually mention that if you need to go take care of some arsehole, you will.”

“Right,” Eamon agrees. “And you know we’d help you out. Men who can’t take no for an answer from a woman deserve a proper knuckle supper.”

“Aye, thanks, mates.” Ro rubs a hand through his red hair and releases a long breath. “Here goes nothing.”

Eamon and I watch as he saunters to the bar, leaning his forearms across the top, and mutters something to Layla and Norah. The lasses say their goodbyes and return to our table, relaying what information they gathered. Eventually the conversation shifts to Mac and Myra and the baby girl that will be joining them soon. We all agree that they’ve come a long way, but Mac will need to rethink the way he views women if he’s to be a good father to their daughter.

I angle my body towards Layla, bumping my knee with hers. She glances at me, pulling her long braid over her shoulder. I follow the movements of her fingers as they glide over it until she reaches the end and starts rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. Reaching out, I gently tug the braid from her grasp and twist it around my finger absently. I love the feel of her hair in my hands, whether it’s running my fingers through the strands as we cuddle, winding it around my hand while I take her from behind, or burying my fingers into the roots while she’s on her knees before me like she was last night.

Layla clears her throat, breaking me from my fantasies. When I meet her eyes, she has one brow raised and pointedly looks down. Unknowingly, I’ve wound her braid around my palm, and my cock is noticeably hard. Rather than being embarrassed, I grin and wink at her, give her hair a gentle tug, then release it before shifting in my seat to hide the evidence of my thoughts. She snorts in amusement, shaking her head slightly.

Eamon and Norah are oblivious to what’s happening across the table from them because they’re clearly in their own world. He’s whispering in her ear and, whatever he’s saying, has her cheeks turning the same shade as her hair. His arm shifts under the table and if I’m not mistaken, I’d say he’s sliding his hand to her inner thigh because she squirms and her arm darts under the table.

A handful of months ago, after Ashley left me, I would have been a miserable bloke watching these two, but now all it does is give me ideas and a strong urge to usher Layla somewhere private. Not tonight though. We’ve been at it like rabbits since getting back from Texas, and I promised to keep my hands—mostly—to myself when we get back to her place. I’m allowed to hold her while we watch a movie, but I’m under strict orders to keep my fingers—and other body parts—above the belt.

As soon as we walk in the door, she’s off to her room while I amble into the kitchen to make a snack. Unwrapping the packet of popcorn, I toss it in the microwave and set the timer, grabbing a beer and filling Layla’s monster-sized water cup while it cooks.

“What do you want to watch, Lovely?” I call on my way to the living room, snacks in hand.

“Something funny, please!” She hollers back. “I think tonight was serious enough with Alicia. We could use something lighthearted.”

“Aye, good call.” Settling into the corner of the couch, I flip through the comedy section on Netflix until I find one we haven’t watched together yet, queuing it up.

The sound of her bare feet padding down the hall causes me to look her way and fecking hell . How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when she looks good enough to eat in my Seahawks hoodie, that little pair of sleep shorts, and her hair in a knot on her head? I must be staring at her in some sort of way because she stops short and glares at me.

“No.”

“What?” I ask innocently.

“Teagan O’Brien, do not look at me like that.” She pops a hip out, resting a fist on it, and looks pointedly at my cock. Grey sweatpants do nothing to hide an erection. “We are not fucking tonight. My body needs a break!”

I stick my bottom lip out, pouting like a petulant child. “But you look so good in my jumper, love. Seeing you in my clothes gets me heated up.”

Layla closes her eyes and inhales deeply like she’s searching for patience. Her lips move silently, counting to ten before exhaling. God, she’s adorable.

Finally, she looks at me. “Do you need to go take a cold shower?”

“Fuck no,” I exclaim. “That sounds brutal.”

“Then get yourself under control. I was really looking forward to just cuddling and watching a movie with you.”

The corners of her lips turn down and her eyes fall. She looks so disappointed and I can’t stand it.

“You’re right,” I concede. “I’m sorry, love. What you’re wearing is not an excuse for me to misbehave. Now, get over here so I can hold you.”

Layla fights a smile, but loses the battle. She rolls her eyes before closing the distance and sinking onto the sofa beside me. I slip my arm around her, tugging her closer to burrow into my side, kissing the side of her head now resting perfectly in the crook of my neck. We get a good laugh out of the movie, but it’s also a peaceful experience. Doing something mundane with Layla is just as enjoyable as feeling her naked body writhing beneath mine—just a different type of enjoyment.

* * *

I’m completely shattered. It’s been a long week, between classes, football, and work; it feels like I’ve been up to ninety. Graduation is looming and I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to do. I’ve been in communication with the North Carolina Independent Colleges and Universities nonprofit organization regarding a couple of positions they have open, but nothing concrete has come from it yet. It’s not my dream job, but it will be a good way to get my foot in the door for other opportunities. If all else fails, I talk to my manager about working full-time with the kids at the gym. They’re a good time and I hate the idea of leaving them. Chances are that even if I do get hired on at NCICU, I’ll still work part-time, or at least volunteer, for the after-school program.

It’s Friday, and I just finished a scrimmage at the campus pitch. It’s been unseasonably hot the last few days and today was no exception. Tearing my goalie gloves from my hands, I tuck them under my arm as I make my way to the bench where my water bottle sits. Coach is talking to a man I’ve never seen, but his attire suggests he’s a scout of some sort. Following their line of sight, I realize they’re watching Eamon. And for good reason. He was on fire today. Not that he doesn’t always give his all, but he played fiercely, scoring a goal on every attempt. I’m just glad we were playing on the same side or my status as a goalie would have gone down the jacks.

“Kennedy!” Coach barks out.

Eamon whips his gaze their way and nods when Coach beckons him over. Lifting the bottom of his practice jersey, he wipes the sweat from his face before jogging across the field. Coach tosses him a bottle of water as he approaches, then introduces him to the other man. This isn’t any of my business, so I gather my belongings and head for the locker room to shower. Pulling my phone from the front pocket of my bag, I check to see if I have any missed calls or messages, smiling when I notice that I have a text from Layla.

Layla: I got called in to close tonight, so I won’t be home until late. Hope the scrimmage went well. Love you, guapo.

Disappointment seeps in knowing that I won’t get to see my lass tonight, but it’s probably for the better. I have a mountain of homework to catch up on, and if I go to Layla’s, the last thing I’ll be doing is homework.

Teagan: Sorry, Lovely. I’ll miss you. Let me know when you get home, yeah? Love you more, Cailín.

I stuff my phone back in my bag before shutting it in my locker and hitting the showers. If I hurry, I can maybe swing by to give her a quick kiss before her shift. That’s all the motivation I need to race through, washing my hair and body at lightning speed. Shutting the water off, I grab a towel and tie it around my waist. Realizing I left my clothes in my bag in my rush, I head for my locker to retrieve them.

“Teag, mate, c’mere till I tell ye,” Rowan appears on the other side of the door, making me jump.

“Bleeding Christ, man, you scared the life out of me! Give a bloke some sort of warning, will ya?”

“I will, yeah, but listen,” Ro says hurriedly. “That oul fella out there with Coach and Eam is a scout from Inter Miami! Overheard them talking about bringing our mate out for a week or so. Think he’ll sign with them if they offer?”

I pause to consider. Eamon is good enough, but I don’t think his heart is in it. Especially with Norah at his side. The lass would move wherever he goes, but would he be up for traveling? Leaving her for weeks at a time?

“Nah, I don’t think he will.”

“He’d be a fucking eejit to turn that down. He could be set for life there,” Rowan argues like he’s trying to win me over to his side.

“He won’t go because of Norah and you know it.”

“Ach, that’s rubbish. She’s not the type to hold him back.”

I’m a little shocked that he’s defending her, rather than putting the blame on the lass.

“Yeah, mate, I know. She’d follow him to the moon and back. That’s not what I’m saying. Eamon won’t want to travel regularly. He’s so gone for Norah I don’t think he could handle being away from her for a few days, let alone weeks.”

Rowan purses his lips as he takes in my words, then finally agrees. “Aye, as much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right. Both of you are tied down tight by your mots.”

I grin at the thought of Layla tying me down. It doesn’t sound half bad, honestly.

“Better you lot than me though. I’m not giving up my life for a lass.”

Clapping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing, I say, “Rowan, one day you’re going to eat those words and I, personally, cannot wait to watch from the front row. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a Spanish rose I need to go kiss.”