The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

“Hey, you. What’s going on?”

“I made breakfast this morning.” He swallows before bringing tumultuous eyes to mine, “for Nora.”

“Jesus, Theo,” I whisper. “Come on.” I pull at his hand, encasing it with my own as he tightens our grip and squeezes. He needs me. I try to ignore the zing in my chest at the realization as I walk him to the back of the coffee house. We stand at the open back door, and he pulls his hand away from mine and starts pacing.

“What happened?”

“What happened? Troy fucked her. In my house, feet away from me. And I’m jealous. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“No. Anyone would be pissed.”

“It disgusts me,” he manages through a clenched jaw. “How can I feel anything after all this time. After what she did?”

“I think we’re wired to want what we can’t have. It’s not wrong to feel the way you do. You were cheated on and just got your nose rubbed in it.”

“Why, why him? Why guys like him? Tell me what’s so appealing about that kind of guy. Look, I’m not saying all gene lottery winners are hollow inside. But tell me why, when it’s abundantly clear what some are after, do women temporarily decide to loosen their morals for twenty meaningless minutes?”

I swallow. “I’m not the spokeswoman.”

“No, but you’re a subscriber to that same type of asshole.”

“I promise you, once the buzz wears off and the feelings, or lack of kick in, it can feel pretty shitty.”

Accusing eyes meet mine. “Yet you go back for more.”

“Whoa, down boy, used to,” I remind him, “and stop pointing that sword at me. I’m not the enemy.”

“I want to hate her. I do hate her. I hate that I got all territorial and jealous.”

“Theo, you’re still a man, and he pissed all over the house. I get it. It makes perfect sense.”

“How can it make sense to you? You’ve never felt this.”

“Hey,” I close the distance. “Stop beating the help.”

“Sorry,” he says, shoving his hands in his jeans. He leans on the frame of the back door and looks up to me with desperate eyes. His hurt circulates through the air between us. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“God, I’m never going back there.”

“Yes, you are,” I say softly. “This too, shall pass. And you look…you look,” I avert my eyes, “you look really good, Theo. There’s no way she’s not regretting it right now.”

“Troy is over six foot with an eight pack, and I’ve got mabs.”

“Mabs?”

He gives me a reluctant grin. “Maybe abs?”

I burst into laughter, and he shakes his head with a groan.

“I can’t ever seem to get a damn leg up with women. Ever.”

“Well, I’m in the same boat. And do me a favor, don’t ever introduce me to that asshole.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, but why?”

“The first reason is obvious, he’s my kryptonite. But the real reason is because l will rip his balls from his body.”