Wright that Got Away (Wright)

“Your brother is going for that striker,” Santi said, leaning forward. “He’s sure making it interesting.”

That striker was August, who was doing an okay job of avoiding Hollin. But not a good enough job. Seeing Nora’s tears made me give zero fucks about what happened here.

But even I hissed in shock at a particularly brutal slide tackle halfway through the second half. The ref blew the whistle, a red card sliding out of her pocket.

Hollin tried to argue, but, well, it had definitely been an illegal slide tackle, and August was still on the ground. Annie smacked him on the side of the head and yelled in his face, something about how they needed him for finals. Hollin stomped off the field, but I couldn’t keep the smirk off my face. We met each other’s eyes, and he laughed.

I held my fist out, and he bumped me. “Nice one.”

He snorted. “Could have been worse.”

“The first few were at least clean.”

Santi leaned across me, holding out his own fist. “I heard what he did to your sister. Worth it.”

Hollin hit his fist, looking like a fucking hero. “Yeah, man.”

Viv blew her bubblegum bangs out of her face. “Men.”

Despite playing a man down, The Tacos still cleaned house. Blaire was particularly unstoppable. Girl goals counted for two in this league, and between her and Eve, the other team hardly stood a chance. Even with Nora playing as if in a daze.

The team invited us to celebratory pizza after the game, and I drove the band to Capital Pizza in Tech Terrace, just off the Texas Tech University campus. Blaire hadn’t quite looked in my direction when we were invited, and I took that as a good sign. She was still going to be there. She wasn’t going to ditch to avoid me. Maybe we were salvageable after all.

Nora had gone home though. After dealing with August and playing throughout the game, she hadn’t wanted to celebrate, and I could hardly blame her.

Annie commandeered the long table at the back of the pizza joint. With the band, we were an even larger group than normal. Blaire sat at one end of the table, and I sank into the seat across from her. She looked up at me with surprise.

“Hey,” I said with a smile.

She glanced down at the menu. “Hey.”

“The band wanted to meet you.”

“Really?” Her eyes were wide as they took their seats next to me. “I did kind of meet them backstage.”

“That’s right,” Santi said. “I knew I remembered you.”

She smiled. “You probably meet a thousand girls on tour.”

“Yeah, but you were the only girl that made Campbell stand up in protest when I put my arm around you.”

I glared at Santi. Of course that was what he fucking remembered. “That isn’t what happened.”

“That’s how I remember it,” Blaire piped up. She arched an eyebrow at me in challenge.

Okay, maybe that was how it had gone down. And worse, she’d shot me that same imperious look as she was giving me now. One that said, What the fuck are you going to do about it? A few months ago, when I’d seen her at the show, the answer had been, Nothing. That wasn’t the answer anymore.

“Well, I felt justified,” I said with a shrug.

Her mouth popped open for a second before she covered it quickly. “And why is that?”

“Yeah,” Santi said, elbowing me in the ribs. “Why are you justified?”

Viv snorted, nudging Blaire’s elbow. “Because she’s fucking gorg.” She winked at Blaire. “Hey, babe. I’m Viv.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Eve sank into the seat next to Viv. “You’re Viv Underwood.”

Viv’s eyed Eve appreciatively. She’d tugged her jersey off, and she was just in a sports bra, which did little to cover her chest. I had to force myself to look somewhere else, but Viv was clearly having difficulty.

“Sure am. Who are you, beautiful?”

“Eve.” They shook hands in the small space. Eve’s eyes turned to the rest of the band. “Santi, Yorke, and Campbell. You’re missing one.”

“Michael doesn’t like soccer,” Santi purred.

Viv shot him a look that said, Come on. Give me this one!

Santi just looked back at her and mouthed one word—Kris.

Viv huffed.

“His loss,” Eve said.

“So, are you a Cosmere fan, baby?” Santi asked with a wink.

Eve shrugged. “Not really.”

Blaire snorted. “Classic.”

“No offense,” Eve said. “I like heavier stuff.”

“None taken,” Yorke said before the rest of the band could speak.

“Then, how do you know us all?” Viv asked.

Eve shrugged. “I had a roommate who was a big fan.”

Just then, Blaire’s assistant, Honey, plopped down into the seat at the head of the table. She had clearly gotten her fangirl under control and just said, “Hey, y’all.”

Santi nodded toward Yorke, who shrugged. I knew what that meant. Yorke’s preferences ran toward short blondes. Honey fit the bill. Well, at least my bandmates were making the best of a bad situation.