The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

“Not bad. I feel terrible I’ve never paid attention,” Devin says, breaking me from my thoughts. “I’m usually with Chase, so it’s always the game itself I’m interested in, you know? Half-time is usually when I get more beer and pee.”

“Same here.”

We both watch stunned as the Grand Band pulls off some pretty mind-blowing hat tricks which include spreading across the field to form a stick man who starts flossing.

“Oh my God,” Devin says through a laugh. “That’s awesome.”

“You know Theo’s here on scholarship,” I keep my eyes on the show. “He must be really talented.”

“I’ll bet,” she says in a tone that has me rolling my eyes rather than acknowledging her. “What does he play?”

“He won’t tell me. Isn’t that weird?”

“He’s going to make you work for it, huh?”

“Man, they must have to practice like crazy to nail this stuff,” I say as the crowd roars in appreciation. “I can’t believe I’ve never really noticed them before.”

“Me neither,” Devin’s clearly impressed. “First time for everything.” She turns to me, carefully reading my expression. “I’m calling it, you’ll be dating Grand Band Man by my wedding, and dumping him before Christmas.”

I fist bump her tit, and she has the audacity to look miffed. “His name is Theo, and that’s a horrible thing to say.”

“Hey, if we’re going on track record alone, I’m spot on with the timeline. But I’ll reserve judgment until I meet him, how’s that?”

“Better, though the sarcasm negates any good intent on your part. And like I said, we’re just friends.”

Devin regards me skeptically. “I guess we’ll see.”

Theo

I arrive at the bar a little over an hour after our game and spend a few minutes circling the crowd for Laney. I find her toasting another girl and am surprised at the relief I feel that she didn’t bring a date. Laney spots me and waves me over with a grin and a waiting beer as her friend joins the line on the dance floor.

“It’s a little warm,” she yells over at me. “I expected you sooner.”

“Sorry about that, it took a lot longer for me to get home and get changed.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve been fully entertained,” she grins at her friend, who is shaking her ass in a small circle with a few other women. In the darkly-lit bar I scan Laney, she looks hot in a sundress and a sweater that accentuates the cleavage I refuse to acknowledge for fear of poisoning. A minute of silence passes, and I can feel her eyes on me. I scan the crowd and the dance floor. “Good to see the two-step is still alive and well.”

Laney guffaws. “You mean to tell me, you don’t like country?”

“Not especially, no.”

“Well, that’s just sad,” she says, shaking her head. “I happen to love it.”

I shrug. “What can I say, I grew up in the burbs listening to other stuff. I don’t own boots. It’s so cliché anyway. When out of towners came to visit my family, they were always surprised when no one dressed and spoke like Yosemite Sam and our front yard wasn’t full of rolling tumbleweeds.”

“Ever been to East Texas?”

“No.”

“Well then, there you go.” Laney slams her beer on the table in afterthought. “I’m so disappointed in you, young man, where is your Texas pride?!”

“I have pride. Not all Texans have to wear boots and two-step.” I give her my best smirk, surveying her dress and boots. “And what do you have to say for your lack of school spirit?”

She grins over at me. “Well played. I’ll buy your next beer—”

“You bought my first one,” I counter, taking a sip.

“You