“Mr. Hoult.”
“I’m going to pretend I never saw you here,” Julian decided, putting on his Persols. “But for the record, I don’t endorse this. I trust you’ll be home in time for your PT appointment tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir, you bet your ass,” Drew grinned as Julian then strolled out without another word.
I snorted. My friendship with Drew Maddox was probably a conflict of interest considering he pitched for the baseball team my brother owned but like I said, I was running out of friends who didn’t have a wife and a curfew.
“How you holding up, buddy?” Drew smirked, snatching a fry off my plate as soon as it hit the table. He took a bite and tossed a wink at the blushing waitress before asking exactly what I expected from him. “So you got pictures of this girl or what? Because I have trouble believing she’s as hot as you say.”
I sneered. “In that case, I look forward to you meeting her.”
“Well, if she’s even half as good-looking as you claim, I look forward to it too.”
“Actually, I just decided that you’re never meeting her. And if you ever try anything on her I’ll make sure you’re on the DL for the rest of the year.”
“At which point your brother would kill you. The team needs me.”
“Yeah, which is why you’re partying in the Hamptons instead of rehabbing your injury.”
“It’s a muscle contusion. It’ll heal by tomorrow,” Drew exaggerated as he shifted down his side of the booth to sit diagonal from me. It was a requirement for us if we ever shared a table. We were both six-foot-three and with our builds factored in, it was generally hard to fit us both in one space. On the bright side, our size tended to result in attention from women. A lot of it. Julian generally found this kind of thing annoying when we were out, but I personally welcomed it with open arms.
Apparently at least till today.
“The hell was that?” Drew laughed when the hostess left after checking in on us. I blinked.
“What?”
“She was hot as all fuck and she was basically thrusting her tits in your face.”
“Yeah? I don’t remember that happening.”
“You wouldn’t. Your eyes were attached to your phone like a fuckin’ high school girl. Who are you texting? Her?”
By “her” he meant Aly, but Drew was allergic to remembering names. For the first few weeks that he knew me, he called me Evan.
“I got her number from my mom. I was checking if she responded to my text.”
“What’d your text say?”
“I was asking if I could see her at work. Or if I’d just see her at home.”
“Christ.” Drew winced the way he did when he knocked back a particularly large shot of tequila. “Since when did you get this desperate? You’re the one who preaches the whole ignore-them-till-they-come-to-you trick.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t really apply to her.”
“Why not? And if you say ‘because she’s different,’ I’m going to hurl.”
I shot Drew a death look and said nothing at all.
“Jesus fuck. So she is different,” he laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Magical tits aside, what’s so special?”
I pulled my eyebrows tight. Aside from the fact that I kind of hated listening to Drew talk about Aly, I actually had no idea how the hell to answer his question – because I had no idea how to describe my relationship with Aly Stanton.
As far as I was concerned, we had always been a love-hate kind of thing. I definitely fucked with her a lot when we were kids, but that was only because she made it so easy. Since we were little, Aly had made the decision to hate me. I’d say we were around seven years old when she started getting crazy defensive around me and constantly tried to one-up everything I did.
When I took up an instrument, she picked the same one. When I started karate, she did the same. When I chose to learn Spanish in middle school, Aly switched out of her French class and into mine – just to prove how much faster she could learn the language.
I would’ve found it annoying if I didn’t find it hilarious. Especially since by seventh grade, it was becoming obvious that she was no match for me when it came to athletics or strength. I had her beat in all the ways that people cared about most, and so she pretty openly hated me.