Page 9 of Project: FU (Longwood U #3)

TAVIS

I tend to work weeknights at the bar. Because we’re close to campus, there’s always a decent crowd.

As can be expected, the weekends can get rowdy.

But I like the weekdays because people are there when they need a break.

They need a change of scenery. They need to unwind from the stress of school or work, or whatever.

Or they need a hookup.

I’m sure there’s some fraternization clause in my contract or in the employee handbook, but I’ve also seen my fair share of staff/student hookups in the couple years I’ve been working here.

Sometimes, you just need to get off. I’m not here to judge, and as long as you don’t ask me to lie for you, I see nothing.

There’s a part of me that thinks I keep working here for the same reason.

It’s an opportune place to find a hookup.

Lord knows it’s been years since I’ve had sex with anyone.

At first, it was simply because I was still legally married.

Just because that marriage has been over for a very long time doesn’t mean she isn’t still my wife.

But I don’t think that’s the case anymore.

I’m positive that if I told Rachel I was going to hook up one night, she’d just shrug.

She’s come to me twice since I’ve moved into the guest room with the equivalent of that, and the first time, I was completely surprised that I wasn’t the least bit upset.

So once that reason was off the table, the next thing I thought holding me back was that these kids were the same age as my kids. Yes, they’re all legal adults. But they’re still the same age as my kids. Many, if not most, of them are younger than my oldest child.

Yet, as I fill a beer for a familiar face, I think I’ve also determined that even their ages aren’t the reason I don’t touch them. I don’t have a reason I can name except that I haven’t found anyone I’m interested in.

There are guys and girls here, and hookups happen in all orientations. Longwood is one of those places that feels out of time. We’re in a bubble where the vast majority of people here don’t give a fuck what you’re doing if it doesn’t affect them.

The rest of the world should take a note from this town.

“Here you go.” I slide the drink across the counter on the little square of a napkin.

He drops a ten. “Thanks, Coach.”

Most of the students who come in here know me as Longwood U’s hockey coach. Which means many know that I’m also a retired NHL coach. I know there are a ton of whispers about why I work here.

Do I need money? Does the school not pay me enough? Did I blow all the money I made from the pros?

Those rumors even got back to the admin at school, and the director of HR and the director of the sports department called me in for a meeting to delicately ask me if I needed more money in my contract.

I’d tried very hard not to laugh, but made it clear I work at the bar because I’m bored. No other reason at all.

I think everyone in the meeting read between the lines that I simply didn’t want to be home. That’s fine. It’s the truth. Sad but true.

I refill some drinks at the far end of the bar, where a group of under twenty-ones are enjoying virgin cocktails. We keep a healthy stock of alcohol-free mixes since we’re a college town. When I turn to see if I missed anyone, I find a familiar figure at the far end.

Nolan. He’s never come into the bar while I was working. Not that I can remember, anyway. He has his head in his hands, elbows on the bar.

He looks really unhappy.

I frown. While I know my daughter is not the least bit honest when it comes to relaying the happenings in her relationships, I have a feeling that she’s been wildly misleading this time.

With glass in hand, I fill the bottom with grenadine and fill it with lemon-lime soda before topping it with half a dozen cherries. I slide it in front of him.

He picks his head up to look at it and sighs. “Thanks.”

“You okay?” I ask.

“No,” he answers. “People are shitty, and I can’t stop feeling like shit about it.”

I nod as I wipe down the bar. “That’s vague and sad at the same time.”

He huffs. “Girlfriend cheated on me. Not a little, but big time. I want to be angry, and I am. I’m fucking furious but…” He shakes his head. “More than anything, right or wrong, right now I just want to hurt her like she hurt me.”

His voice is quiet. Almost too quiet to make out the words.

“I suppose I should tell you to be the bigger person and forget her,” I tell him. I’d like to feel indignant that he’s talking about my daughter, but… for some reason, I’m not surprised that she cheated on him. I’m disappointed in her.

It’s hard to feel disappointed in one of your kids. All you want as a parent is to be proud of them, and sometimes you try to find the good in everything they do. Because they’re your kids.

But I’m not sure I can spin this any way that can paint her in even a little bit of good light.

“I’m sorry.”

Nolan shakes his head. “It’s whatever,” he mutters.

He drops one of his hands and traces the rim of the glass I set in front of him.

“I keep thinking I feel stupid more than anything. Looking back over the last year, I keep thinking that there were signs. I used to think her spoiled, self-centered behavior was cute. Like, what the fuck is wrong with me? There’s nothing cute about that. ”

Tell me about it. I nod in agreement.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You don’t need to hear me gripe.” Nolan lifts his eyes for the first time and meets mine. Recognition isn’t immediate, but it’s not long before he sees who he’s been talking to. He laughs. “Yeah, now I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love all my kids, but sometimes you just don’t know where one picked up certain behaviors.

As a parent, you always feel some responsibility for their actions, but at some point, you need to be able to wash your hands of it and recognize that they’re making their own decisions—good ones and the shitty ones. ”

“I’ve wasted so much damn time on her. Not just when we were together, because apparently that meant nothing to her, but even now. I can’t get out of my own way on this. I’m letting it drive my actions, and that’s not me. It’s not okay. Tell me to stop, Coach.”

I laugh and push the drink toward him. “Here. Pretend I laced it with vodka while I take care of these guys.”

Nolan snorts and brings it closer still. I keep him in my peripheral vision as I deal with other customers. He doesn’t drink it. I’m pretty confident he likes Shirley Temples, so maybe he’s not thirsty. Maybe he doesn’t want sugar.

When I get back, I set a glass of water on the bar in front of him. Nolan gives me an amused look. “You going to bring me something new every time?”

“I figure I’ll find something you’re interested in eventually.”

He shakes his head, but I’m happy to see his smile. It’s… cute.

Oh good. The first person I find cute is my daughter’s ex-boyfriend. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Why do you work here, Tavis?” Nolan asks as he draws in the condensation on the glass with his finger.

I take a breath. “Boredom. My kids are grown and out of the house. I don’t know what to do with my free time.”

He gives me an amused look. “Oh no? I think I have some ideas.”

Is he flirting with me? I lick my lips, debating whether he is. “It crossed my mind.”

“Hmm,” he says, making a show of looking me over. “They make pills and such.”

Little fucker. I dip my hand in the ice bucket and then flick my fingers at him. Nolan laughs, moving away from me. “I don’t need pills, youngen. I can still show you a thing or two.”

Nolan grins as he leans forward again.

I excuse myself to tend to other customers. It takes me longer this time. I half expect that Nolan will get bored and leave. Or find someone else to talk to. But he doesn’t move. I’m pleased that he also hasn’t dropped his head in his hands again, either.

When I head in his direction again, it’s not with another drink, but a cherry. I offer it to him. His eyes lock on mine, and he leans forward to take it from my fingers. His lips touch my skin and it’s probably the first interest in another person my dick has taken since I was in my twenties.

I mean, of course, it’s Nolan. Why wouldn’t it be?

If I had any morals at all, I’d step away. I’d bring this interaction to a far more platonic footing. Apparently, though, those morals are long gone. At least while he’s sitting in front of me.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” I say as I wipe all the water spots from a glass.

He shakes his head. “I think I’ve been inside once.

I’m not much for the bar or club scene. I only pop in when…

” His words trail off as he thinks about it.

“I guess when my feet lead me here. Tonight I wanted to wallow, but my friend isn’t home to rub my back and tell me I’ll be okay, so here I am. ”

“Is that what you need? Need your back rubbed?”

Nolan smirks. It turns less haughty, and he sighs.

“I don’t know what I need. I need something that’s going to make me forget her.

Not just in the moment, but permanently.

Maybe you don’t want to hear this and I probably shouldn’t tell you, since you’re her father, but I really want her to fucking hurt, Tavis. I want her to feel this.”

Yep, definitely conflicted here. I put my hand over his and squeeze him gently.

“I keep doing stupid shit, thinking it’ll at least piss her off.

And it certainly would. If I told her. But I’m not going to because I’m not that kind of person.

So I’m left just angry. Angry at her and angry at myself for letting her affect me and angry that she doesn’t give a fuck at all about what she’s done.

There’s no remorse there. She was perfectly happy to pretend like it never happened.

Pretend like I didn’t know about it. So yeah, I’m convinced she’s a heartless shrew, so my next goal was just to piss her off, but I… I…”

“You’re better than that,” I finish.

“Am I?” he mutters and takes a sip of the Shirley Temple.

I lean forward and grip his chin, bringing his eyes to mine. Well, I shouldn’t have done that . An electric charge sizzles between us as our eyes lock.

“Yes,” I tell him. “You are.”

Nolan swallows. A beat passes in which I’m positive that it’s not only my heart speeding up at the heat simmering between us.

I release him when I need to tend to others. Nolan remains on the stool throughout the night. I return to him between customers. I don’t kick him out when I close down at one. He stays there, watching me clean up.

We’ve stopped talking about Kelsey. Our conversation is a mix of hockey, school, bartending, and my time in the NHL. There’s always a flirty undertone and, sometimes, an obvious innuendo.

When the bar is shut down, I flick the lights off and come around the bar. It’s never completely dark inside. There are a handful of lights that keep a dim glow.

Nolan twists on his stool to face me as I approach him. I don’t imagine the way he spreads his legs, a clear invitation for me to stand between them. So I do, resting my hands on the sides of his neck.

There aren’t any words now. I think this is a silent exchange. Are we going to let something happen? Am I going to listen to the voice in my head telling me this is totally fucked up?

Nolan licks his lips, and no, I’m not that strong. My right hand slides to the back of his head, tangling in his hair to angle his head back. His lips part, and I feel the puff of his breath on my skin. He smells like grenadine and cherries.

I bet he tastes like them, too.

My mouth covers his. There’s no pretense of questioning. Nothing slow and tentative about it. I sweep my tongue through his mouth, tasting the Shirley Temple. Searching for something deeper.

His hands rest on my stomach. The tips of his fingers dip behind the waist of my pants while his other hand circles my back. With my hand around his neck, I coax him to his feet and press his back against the bar.

He grunts into my mouth. Our kissing is hungrier now. Rougher. Heated.

“Want some company tonight?” I ask, biting his bottom lip before he can answer.

“I can’t take you back to the frat house,” he says.

Nor can I take him home. “Hotel?”

Nolan sucks on my tongue and then shakes his head. “I know a place. It’s close.”

“Let’s go.”

Reluctantly, I release him. He grabs my hand, and we head for the door. We stop long enough for me to set the alarm and lock up. I’m surprised when we only move a dozen feet from the front door, and he produces a key that lets us into the apartment over the bar.

“What secrets do you have?” I wonder.

He laughs. “This is my friend’s apartment, though he has his own secrets since he’s never here. Which means I have a private place whenever I want it.”

Nolan leads me up the stairs and turns to face me as soon as we’re in the dark apartment. Only the streetlights through the windows lend us any light. He’s against me in the next breath, mouth locked with mine.

I drop my hand to his ass, finally allowing myself to grab a handful. Lush. I groan, hauling him against me. He hooks one of his legs over my hip, and I feel just how hard he is.

Yep, this is happening. I’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow.