“Probably a good idea, bro. You deserve a ring. You’re not going to get it the way the team is now. As much as I hate to admit it, we’re complete shit right now.” Ryder was nothing if not direct.
“Yeah. Let me talk to Ralls. I’ll let you know what he says.” I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed it in one go. I was over at Ryder’s so often, I was as comfortable at his place as I was at my own. So was Harper.
“If he’s going to listen to anyone, it’s going to be you, James.”
I had nothing to say to that. It was probably true. Richard Ralls and I had grown close over the last few years.
“What are you making, anyway?” I asked. My addled brain had only then realized that he was chopping up cubes of God knows what and chucking them into a blender. Usually, Ryder was all about grease for a hangover.
“Smoothie, I think. The dietitian for the team put me on to it. Something about our health or some shit.” His brow furrowed. “I think I may have fucked it up, though.”
A quick glance at all the random fruits and vegetables he’d haphazardly butchered and added to the blender confirmed that he had, in fact, fucked it up. “I hear they have recipe books for that kind of shit.?
??
“Apparently so, but I’m a football player. I don’t read well.” Ryder wiggled his eyebrows at me, jokingly.
I rolled my eyes and dragged my hand through my short hair. He had a degree in business for God’s sake, but that never stopped him from hiding behind the stereotype when the urge took him.
“Oh, ha,” I replied dryly. “I’m sure that an advanced degree in economics is required to read the combinations to add to your smoothie to actually make it fit for human consumption.” I ducked the piece of apple that came flying my way.
“Everybody’s a fucking critic. What’re you even doing up, anyway? From the sound of things last night, I thought you’d be down for at least a few more hours.”
“I had to get out of there. I wasn’t feeling the awkward goodbyes.” Ryder was one of the only people in my life that I could be completely honest with. No fear, no favor, no judgment.
He’d been a godsend once Harper had come along. He may have had a reputation for being the wild one of our group, but he was also fiercely loyal and one hell of a guy to have in your corner.
“You know, you could have taken those chicks back to your own place.” He glanced in my direction but was too busy concocting his hideous potion to stare at me for too long.
“You wanted me to drive in the state I was in?” I clutched at my heart in feigned betrayal. “Besides, my bed is mine and mine alone. No girls allowed.”
“Except for Harper, right? And it’s called Uber, jackass. I think I should start charging you rent for that room. Oh, and the laundry service that keeps needing to sterilize it.” He punched the button on the blender and grinned at me. The grinding noise prompted the ice- pick-wielding assholes in my brain to start digging in again.
Once the noise from the blender subsided, giggles floated into Ryder’s kitchen from the bottom of the stairwell, followed shortly by footsteps and the appearance of two underwear clad girls stumbling into the room.
“Ladies,” Ryder boomed, drowning out my groan. “What’s up? James here was just talking about you.”
The presumably faux blonde laughed. Her laugh sounded like a hyena getting fucked by a hippopotamus. Or maybe it was just the hangover.
Christ, what the fuck have I done? They were both hot at least, but the way they checked me out, they were clearly stuck in the “deep blue Skye,” as some fans had nicknamed me.
I hated it. Fucking hated it. I just wanted to play ball. Of course, I had loved it at first, but I was over being star fucked. I mean, fuck me, fine. Please, in fact. I’ve never stopped anyone, but I didn’t do the emotional shit after. There was no “deep blue Skye,” just balls deep Skye.
“Really? He was talking about us?” The redhead giggled, toying with a lock of flaming hair. Her green eyes sparkled as they ran over me.
Yup, I was definitely a prize. A story she could tell her girlfriends over sushi. Or margaritas. Or whatever the fuck girls did to gossip.
Fun times.
That was why I avoided morning-afters. After the “oh, baby” and the “fuck yeah, baby,” there was a level of expectation I didn’t want to meet. I only had room for one girl in my life, and the position was already filled.
“Hells yeah, he was.” Ryder smirked, pointedly holding my eyes. “He was just saying how he’d love to take you out to breakfast.”
Goddamn soul-sucking motherfucker. I needed better taste in friends. Or just new friends altogether.
Maybe I should have taken up basketball. I was well over six feet. I could’ve made it work. Or maybe I should’ve taken up a sport that required no teammates whatsoever. Fencing or snowboarding. Anything seemed like a better option than the one I was stuck with, thanks to my fucking teammate.
“Oh,” the blonde exclaimed, a slight Southern drawl evident in her accent as she continued. “Breakfast with the James Skye. Whoever would’ve thought? We’d love to. Just give us a minute to get changed, and we’ll be right down.”