Page 19

“McManus! McManus! McManus!” they chant, pumping their fists in the air. Some whip off their towels and twirl them in the air as if they’re spectators at a hockey game.

As for me, I do what I do best. Join them in their shenanigans, whipping my towel off, helicoptering my dick, and then chasing Joe Bryce down the hall when he tries to goose me with his bat.

And this time, I’m not talking about the real one.

“Are you sure you can’t come to the party, even for a little bit?” I ask Daniel, even though I already know what the answer is going to be.

He sighs and focuses on some distant point down the hall. “We’ve been over this already, Charlie. I can’t. It’s an anniversary party for my parents’ best friends. I have to be there. You know how it is with that crowd. If I don’t show up…”

I nod. “It’ll reflect poorly on your parents.”

The New York socialite scene is a different planet, as far as I’m concerned.

Growing up in Bomont, the fanciest event I ever attended was my cousin’s sweet sixteen.

We didn’t have galas or soirees; we had barbecues and birthday parties at bowling alleys.

We didn’t wear tuxedos and dresses, either; we wore party hats.

“Why don’t you tell your parents you’re under the weather? Say that the sun tired you out or something.”

Daniel gives me a look that’s equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Charlie, you know I’d much rather be at the party with you. But these things are important.”

I frown. “But you’re not even the one trying to climb the social ladder. They are.”

He stops walking and considers his next words carefully. “It’s not about climbing. It’s about maintaining. And they’re my family. I have to be there.”

“Yeah, I know.” I relent. For the Hollingsworth family, obligations are nonnegotiable.

“Now, don’t get too drunk at the party. I’m going to be texting you a lot to stay sane, and I need you sober for that,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll be surrounded by a bunch of rich old people complaining about the new money in town while sipping champagne with their pinkies out.”

He imitates the action, and I burst out laughing. It’s probably the most absurd thing I’ve ever seen him do. And that’s saying something, considering what we got up to on New Year’s Eve.

We head into the stadium lobby and come to a halt when we see Harrison and the woman from the art gallery— Denise, was it?— sitting on a bench.

“Hey!” Harrison rises to his feet and waves. He’s wearing a leather jacket over a plain white tee, every bit the rebel artist that I’ve grown to like more than I probably should .

“H!” I shout his name a little too enthusiastically, but I don’t think anyone noticed. “And…?”

“Danielle,” the woman interjects with a bright smile. I was close. “It’s nice to meet you. Harrison spent the better part of the game telling me all about you two.”

Oh God . All about us?

“It’s all lies,” Daniel says smoothly, extending a hand that Danielle shakes with vigorous delight.

“We were just heading out,” Harrison says. Although to me, sitting on a bench isn’t heading out . “But congrats on the win. Charlie, you were amazing out there.”

My chest swells at the compliment, and my face breaks out into a shit-eating grin. “Thanks! I wish I’d known you were here. We could have given you a backstage tour.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, you sure did surprise us!” You sure did surprise us? Ugh, be more lame, Charlie.

Harrison turns his attention to Daniel. “And you, how are your legs not burning from all that squatting?”

Daniel chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “Years of practice, Price. I’ve got thighs of steel.” He slaps them for good measure, and all of our eyes follow the movement. Danny Boy’s not kidding; he could crack an entire bag of walnuts with those bad boys.

Danielle adjusts her pink cat-eye glasses, studies us with an appraising gaze, then struts out the door without even saying goodbye. I like her.

“There’s an afterparty at Kappa Sig,” I say, breaking the silence that settles around us. “You should come, H. Daniel can’t because he has a family thing, so I’m flying solo.”

Harrison glances outside, then back at us. “I’d love to, but I have a family thing too.”

“Seriously? You guys are killing me.” I scrub my hands down my face in an overdramatic fashion. “I can’t face a house full of drunk baseball players, frat boys, and sorority girls all by myself. ”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “You’ll be fine, drama queen.”

I pout, genuinely bummed that not even Harrison can come. It would’ve been nice to have someone to talk to about things other than ERAs and WHIPs.

“Did you enjoy the game?” Daniel asks Harrison, changing the subject.

Harrison shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over his shoulder. “I did. It was my first one.”

My eyes widen to saucers. “Wait, are you serious? You’ve never been to a baseball game before?”

“Nope,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Well, we’re glad you came out to support, right, Charlie?” Daniel claps me on the back, and the sudden jolt rocks me forward into Harrison, who stops me with a hand on my chest.

The warmth of his palm seeps through my T-shirt, making my skin tingle. He stares at his hand as if he can’t quite remember how it got there.

My heart kicks into overdrive. It thuds against my ribcage hard enough that I’m positive Harrison can feel it.

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, a flicker of realization in those blue depths. Shit.

Suddenly, I’m imagining his hand sliding lower, those nimble fingers tracing over my abs, dipping down to the waistband of my jeans. Heat pools low in my belly. Blood pools lower.

God, what is wrong with me? This is Harrison. I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way. It’s wrong…isn’t it?

I risk a glance at Daniel, who’s watching the whole interaction with keen interest. His eyes ping-pong between Harrison and me. When he sees me staring at him, he arches an eyebrow as if to say, “Well, well, what do we have here?”

The moment stretches on, the three of us suspended in this strange, charged limbo. No one moves, no one breathes. It’s as if we’re all waiting for someone to break the spell, to laugh it off, and change the subject.

But I don’t want to break the spell. I want to let it linger and see where it takes us.

Even if I have no idea what I’m doing. Even if it means venturing into uncharted territory with my best friend and the guy who’s quickly taking up space in my head.

Harrison snaps out of it first. He clears his throat and takes a small step back. His hand falls away from my chest, and the loss of contact is jarring.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I wasn’t trying to…” He trails off, uncharacteristically flustered.

“It’s okay,” I rush to assure him, even though I’m not entirely sure what I’m absolving him of. Touching me? Making me harder than I’ve ever been before? Blurring the lines of our burgeoning friendship in a way that both exhilarates and terrifies me? “No worries, man.”

“Right.” Harrison nods, still not quite meeting my gaze. “I should probably get going. Have fun at the party, McManus. And Hollingsworth, try not to jump out of a window at your family thing.”

Daniel laughs. “Right back at you, Price.”

With that, Harrison walks out, leaving me standing there with a dozen questions swirling in my head.

Daniel slaps my ass, startling me. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get some food before you starve to death, and I have to stuff myself into a penguin suit.