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That’s something I just can’t seem to imprint on my brain. Jamie’s mine. There’s just nothing that can change that. Seeing her with someone else, I just want to fuck her into understanding that. But I can’t.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.It’s just so hard to comprehend it.
“We’ll take the winners,” Cole announces as they both settle next to the table, halfway between my side and Chris’.
Jamie is the closest to me and I don’t miss what she’s wearing; that fucking jacket withCooperwritten on the back and the number seven on it. Cole’s number. It’s ten times too big for her and I grit my teeth thinking she never wore mine. She never did, she hates that shit.
She enjoys being owned behind closed doors, she likes the protection and the possession. But in public? Nah, she’s her own person. She would scold me forholdingher too possessively. Can’t imagine what she would have thought if I had put my last name and lacrosse number on her back.
My brain suddenly plays one on me, because while I thought she hated it, she’s still doing it for Cole. He’s not even her fucking boyfriend. Or is he?
Fuck, maybe I don’t know her? Maybe I don’t know her at all.
My palms feel sweaty when I throw the next ball and I miss. Kaylee throws back and it lands perfectly. I do need a drink. I down my third or fourth drink of the game and grab the first girl who walks past us. Jessika.
“My beautiful Jess.” I give her a charming smile as I hold her waist. “Will you be a doll and get us all some shots? I think it’s time to get this party started, don’t you?”
She smiles and nods, giving me a pat on the chest before she disappears inside.
Yeah, shots. That’s what I need.
We keep playing, and Jamie starts supporting Chris’ team. I can see from the corner of my eyes Cole’s hand going up and down her back. Sometimes grazing way too fucking close to her ass. I’m practically dying for him to touch it, just so I can smash his fucking face on the table. Tattoo that pretty mosaic on his forehead.
I smile to myself as I throw the ball back again. That’s when Jessika comes back with a platter full of shots. Unfortunately, Camila, Beth, and a lot of the cheerleaders came back with her.
“Let’s get this party started,” Jessika screams, accompanied by a few of the girls wooing.
I notice Jamie going on her toes to talk into Cole’s ear. She’s asking him to leave, I know she is because she fucking hates Beth and doesn’t feel comfortable around these girls. Her skirt hikes up – giving me a great view of the midnight blue, lace shorties she’s wearing under it – and Cole grabs her ass, helping her higher while he goes slightly lower to hear her talk into his ear.
Well.
Time to fuck him up.
I’m taking a step toward them when a body slams against mine and I feel a drink spilling on my white t-shirt.
“The fuck?” I growl.
“Oh my god, Jake, I’m so sorry!” Camila’s fake apologetic voice is already giving me a headache. “Here, let me help.” She gives a few slaps on my abs, pretending to ‘dry’ the shirt, and grabs two shot glasses. “Whatever, let’s drink,” she smiles.
I take a shot because I really fucking need it. But when I look back to where Cole and Jamie were a second ago, they’re gone.
Shit.
“Another round!” someone shouts. And I go with it.
What else can I do? I’m not fuckingallowedto date Jamie. All I can do is observe her from afar. All I can do is threaten guys like Cole to not touch her because she should be all mine. All I can do… is watch helplessly as she moves on from me.
So I go along with the party. I take one shot after the other. I snort a line or two that Camila offers. I don’t know how long has passed but I don’t see Jamie and Cole again.
Camila comes back to me, a drunken smile plastered on her lips. I’m now sitting with Chris and Ella on the sofa, debating who’s got more chance of winning the tournament.
“Jake,” Camila drawls as she sits on my lap. I want to roll my eyes, but I’m a bit too drunk at this point. A bit too high. So that too, I go with it. I grab her waist, bringing her closer, taking in her expensive perfume, the kind that attacks your sinuses and numbs your brain. I bury my face in her neck to find more of that familiar scent I used to lose myself in.
“What’s up,” I say as I pull away from her neck. I push all of her hair to the other side, before playing imaginary notes on her shoulder with my fingertips.
“I’m sorry about your t-shirt,” she whines. She’s not. She just wants something to talk to me about, because we have nothing in common.
“Mm,” I drop a kiss on her naked shoulder. “Always sorry for something, aren’t you?”
