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“You weren’t complaining about my looks before.” One corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky grin.
I roll my eyes while Charlie’s eyebrows rise on his forehead.
“Excuse me.” He motions between Mike and me with his beefy hand. “What’s happening here?”
“Nothing’s happening,” I insist, glaring across the table at Mike’s smug face. “Mike just can’t let go of the past.”
Mike’s grin doesn’t drop.
“So, you and Hoarst have a past?” Charlie inquires.
“No,” I say at the same time Mike says, “Yes.”
“There is no past between us,” I stress. “We’re friends.”
Mike narrows his eyes and winks at me, putting on a show for his teammate. “Close friends,” he adds suggestively. He’s insinuating there’s more to our relationship than there ever was.
I turn until I’m facing Charlie, his heavy arm still anchored around my neck. “Don’t listen to him. He’s living in fantasy land again.”
Charlie leans down until he’s a breath away from my face. The bill of his hat brushes against my forehead. “I wouldn’t mind being close friends with you, Madison.”
I roll my eyes and shove him away playfully. He chuckles.
“You wish, McMann.”
Charlie takes two steps backward with his eyes still on me. The crowd automatically moves out of his way. “I’m gonna wear you down one of these days, Mads. No one can resist the McMann charm for long.”
“Stop referring to yourself in the third person,” I counter. “It’s creepy.”
He smirks. “You love it.”
Then, he turns and makes his way to the bar. He steps up beside Sam, where his teammate is holding court with three coeds, and I’m forgotten as soon as his eyes rest on a more likely conquest for the night.
“Why do you deny that we hooked up, Madison?” Mike asks.
I glance around to see if anyone else is listening. Chase and Oakley are tied up with each other. And the other teammates here are scattered around, drinking and flirting with anyone in a skirt. No one else is paying us any attention.
“It was one time, Mike. Once. And we just made out,” I sigh.
“We could remedy that.” He reaches across the table to grab my hand, but I pull away. He sighs in frustration, running his fingers through his brown curls. “Let me take you on a date, Madison. One date.”
“I’ve told you, Mike,” I say in a gentler tone when I realize he’s not kidding. I don’t want to hurt him. “We’re better off as friends.”
He places his hands over his chest dramatically. “Why do you keep breaking my heart?”
I smile softly. “You know you could have practically any woman in here tonight, right?”
“Yeah”—he mopes—“any woman except the one I’m staring at right now.”
Mike thinks he wants me, but I think he wants what he can’t have. It’s a crush he’s harbored since our senior year in high school. Deep down, I know we’re better off as friends. And I refuse to give him false hope. I would just hurt him.
I walk around the table and kiss him on the cheek to soften the blow. “I’m not all that great, Mike.” I scan the space around us until my attention lands on a cute brunette across the way. “That girl is in my Econ class. Her name is Jeannie, I think. You want me to introduce you?”
“No.” He pouts with a frown. “I can get my own girls, Mads. I don’t need your help.”
I smile at his sullen tone, knowing he’ll get over it soon. He always does. Mike is like a big kid. His attention span is short.
The energy shifts as the front door of the bar bursts open, and the man of the hour appears, flanked by a couple of junior guys on the hockey team. He looks like every bit of the star athlete that he is. With his broad shoulders and his thick black hair … that sexy layer of scruff across his jaw. Somehow, each year, he keeps getting better-looking. He’s often compared to the smokin’ hot quarterback for Notre Dame, Sam Hartman. And I even admit that they could be brothers. But there’s something understated about Ollie. He’s gorgeous, but oblivious to it, which only makes him more attractive in my eyes. I’ve never seen him exploit his looks over the years. And believe me … he could. He’s stupid hot.
