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Chapter Three

Jordan

I ignore the way Alex stares at me, which is really fucking difficult. You’d think he was the younger one here with how childish he is, but he’s, in fact, the oldest. He certainly doesn’t act his age. Never has, and I’m sure he never will.

Austen is freaking out on the side of me, panicking because his bestie hasn’t showed up yet. Cameron promised he’d be here, and if he doesn’t show, I may finally have to deck him. I can tolerate a lot of his shit, but letting down my best friend is not acceptable.

It’s no secret I don’t like the guy. None of us really do; no one but Austen.

Cameron isn’t a terrible person, he’s just…

so fucking judgmental. Austen swears he’s not, that we’ve got him all wrong, but I see the dirty looks he gives us.

He’s not into the stuff we’re into, and that’s fi ne, but he doesn’t have to look at me like I’m a piece of dog shit he stepped in on the way to his fancy art classes.

It’s whatever, though. I don’t need Cameron Scott to like me, I just need him to be nice to my friend.

Which he usually is since he’s in love with him, but apparently that’s a secret no one is supposed to know.

Not sure how anyone could miss the Jupiter-sized hearts in his eyes every time he looks at Austen.

I just pointed this out to Austen, who argued that I was wrong.

Cameron isn’t in love with me.

We’re just friends.

This is why I keep my mouth shut. No one listens to what I say when I talk.

Unable to ignore the feeling of eyes on me any longer, I look to the side and find Alex unashamedly staring.

He smirks, that I-don’t-give-a-shit-what-you-say sort of grin that grinds my fucking gears.

God, just his face pisses me off. He holds my gaze in challenge.

Like somehow he thinks he has the upper hand.

He doesn’t, nor will he ever. I raise a brow, gritting my teeth.

What the fuck is his problem? We aren’t even in Vegas yet, there’s no alcohol involved, and he’s already starting his shit.

I’m pretty sure he’s more fucked in the head than he lets on, because I’m certain he thinks there is something going on between us.

News flash: there isn’t. Just because I walked in on him jerking off once , doesn’t mean a damn thing.

Not a single fucking thing. Me being unable to forget it has nothing to do with liking it and everything to do with being traumatized by catching a dude jerking off.

I’d never seen that before, not outside of porn and there was always a girl involved there.

He’s looking into the situation way too much.

Alex is open about being bi, at least with us.

He’s never announced it, but he doesn’t hide it.

If anything, he’s more than obvious about it.

He’s never tried anything with me, but the way he looks at me makes me think he wants to.

But Alex also has a sick idea of flirting.

It’s like he gets off on me being mean to him.

He does all kinds of shit to get on my bad side, for me to tell him off, and then he just smiles about it like he won .

I don’t get it.

I pull away, not wanting Alex to think I like looking at him like that , and bring my attention back to my phone and the game I’m playing. A text pops up from my mom, so I tap on it.

You need to come home this weekend to take care of the yard.

With a huff, I respond as kindly as I can. It’s never easy when it comes to her.

I can’t come home this weekend. Next weekend.

You’re a useless piece of shit.

Gritting my teeth, I shove my phone into my pocket. I need to get fucked up this weekend and forget everything going on in my life because I swear I’m about to lose my mind.

“Oh, would you look at that? Your one-man fan club has arrived,” I say when I spot Cameron across the way, nudging Austen with my elbow.

Austen jerks up, eyes darting that way, and I watch his shoulders loosen.

Those two are so fucked for each other it’s not even funny. I bet things would be easier if they would just admit it.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch,” Cameron comments, staring at Austen like he’s fucking Santa Claus.

“Told you,” I grunt, then give Cameron a wave.

I dig out my headphones so I can ignore the flirting they’re about to do. The last thing I want is to watch people fall in love. We’re on our way to Vegas, Sin City, and all these guys around me are too fucking sappy for my liking.

I’m grateful once we’ve boarded, except for the fact I’m right next to Alex. If we were in coach, I’d probably have to strangle him. It’s bad enough I’m well aware of how close his leg is to mine, and I swear he’s leaning this way on purpose.

His damn cologne is practically choking me—even if it does smell good.

I busy myself watching Austen and Cameron, getting a concerned look from Austen now and then. Not because of Cameron, but because of my staring. I should leave them alone and let them do their thing, but I’m kind of worried.

That isn’t going to go well. I can see the disaster from here, but it’s none of my business, and I have enough of my own shit to worry about.

All I can do is warn Austen, and let him make his decisions.

He’s a big boy, and he’ll have to clean up whatever mess he gets himself into this weekend.

I didn’t tell him to pursue Cameron, I only wanted him to know what the rest of us do.

“Hey, you wanna watch a movie together?” Alex asks as he points to his TV screen that shows the party option.

I scoff, shaking my head and pull my hood up to hide from him.

I don’t need to get comfortable with him.

When I get comfortable, mistakes happen, and I do not need to make a mistake with Alex Brewer.

Just like on the field, I need to keep my senses alert.

Alex is the enemy, and I can’t be friends with the enemy.

A weekend in Vegas is exciting, but it’s not nearly enough time. We have to pack as much as we can into this short time. Alcohol and strip clubs should be our only priority, with food being a close second. Maybe some sleep here and there.

After stuffing our faces at the most expensive buffet in the city, we make our way to the first strip club of many. The line is long, but we get in quicker than I thought we would.

It’s dark and packed with people, music with a heavy thrumming bass plays all around us. There are three stages, each with a pole and a girl in a different state of dress.

“Fuck yes!” I shout, raising my hands in the air. “Bar first.”

I go that way, not caring if anyone is following. I want my friends to have a good time, but I’m worried about me having a good time. They can join me or they can do their own thing. I may never get another weekend in Vegas—or away from that shithole I call home.

When I get to the bar, I find everyone behind me, and so I do the nice thing and pay for our first round of drinks.

I don’t have a ton of money, but I have some.

When my father died, he left me his life insurance money since my mother is irresponsible and has a pill problem.

I wasn’t allowed to get it until I was eighteen, and thanks to football and my good grades in high school, I got a scholarship that covered most of college.

The insurance money is what I’m living off until I can get a job, and with all the classes I’m taking, plus football, I have no idea when that’ll be, but the sooner I can graduate, the sooner I can get a good job.

I love football and I’m grateful to play, not only for the comradery but because it got me into school. But football isn’t my future. At least, not out on the field.

My dream is to be a physical therapist, focusing on sports injuries.

I want to help people heal and get back on the field, the ice, the court, the green, or wherever else it is they want to be.

So far, I’m on the right track. I want to make a difference in people’s lives, in areas where it matters. Playing ball is fun, but I need more.

Once we have our drinks, we make our way deeper into the club and disperse. A few of us end up at a stage with a blonde who’s doing some cowgirl act. Her panties and bra are cow-print and her matching hat is staying on, even as she twirls on the pole like a pro.

“I stripped on a pole once.”

I glance to my side and find Alex there, grinning at me.

I frown, shaking my head and looking back at the girl .

Thinking about Alex stripping on a pole is not on my list of things to do today. I pull out my dollar bills, get closer to the stage, and toss a few for the girl. She probably makes bank here, and I love that for her. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if given the opportunity.

When I finish my drink, I get another, and when I make my way back to the stage, I don’t see any of the guys.

Which is fine by me. Sometimes I have more fun without them because I don’t have to babysit.

When a seat opens right at the stage, I take it and lean back, eyes on the girl now that her top is off and her tits are free, showing off light pink nipples.

She crawls along the floor, stopping in front of me to shake her ass.

Looking at me over her shoulder, she winks and I toss her some more bills.

“Thanks, baby,” she says, pushing them toward the center of the stage. She moves on to the next guy and lets him motorboat her. He tosses her some twenties.

One day I’ll have money like that.

The girl never gets completely naked, and when her time is up, she’s replaced with a redhead in dark green lingerie.

Now that I have a seat, waitresses bring me drinks when I need them, and I swear I’m living my best life right now. By the time one of the guys finds me, I’m so fucking drunk I can’t see straight. Can’t think straight. Can’t even walk straight.

This is exactly what I wanted.