Out in the Offense (Out in College 3)

Just as the beginnings of a weird romance danced in my head, Rory stepped backward. He shuffled toward the nearest shelf and tore a couple of pieces from a roll of paper towels. He handed one to me and used the other to clean up before redressing. I averted my gaze as I did the same.

With every passing second, I could feel the tendrils of panic weave through me, reminding me who we were to each other. Student, tutor. Guys who met at Starbucks to talk about statistics. He wasn’t a stranger. I knew Rory. I liked him and respected him. I just didn’t know how to get back to “normal.” Was there a nice way to say “Thanks, see ya next week” to the guy who’d fed me our combined jizz via his incredibly talented tongue? Somehow I doubted it.

I zipped my jeans and buckled my belt, mentally preparing my awkward exit speech.

“So, um…I think it’s my turn to buy on Tuesday. How do you feel about pumpkin spice lattes?”

Rory did a comedic double take, then busted up laughing. “I hate that shit. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Oh. Well—”

He opened his mouth to respond when someone rattled the doorknob. We heard a muffled, “Why is this locked?” and stared at each other with wide eyes. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud when an aggravated employee smacked the door and grumbled about finding the fucking key.

“We gotta get out of here,” he whispered conspiratorially. “That was Justin. He’ll know what we were up to in seconds flat. C’mon.”

A wall of sound washed over us the second he opened the door. It got louder and louder as we moved toward the bar area. Rory made a series of hand gestures to ask if I wanted another drink.

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? I’m gonna have to go soon and unload all the crap in my truck, but—”

“It’s cool. I’m ready to leave too,” I assured him.

He studied me for a long moment. I was tempted to ask what he saw. I didn’t feel like myself tonight, wearing someone else’s shirt and doing things I rarely did.

“Come meet my brother first, then I’ll walk you out.” Rory pulled me with him as he sidled up to the bar. He greeted the skinny bartender with a head bob and motioned for him to call the Latino hunk with long hair. “Hey, Jus.”

Wow. Looks definitely ran in the family. Although I wouldn’t have guessed they were related. Ever. Justin was leaner than Rory, with shaggy dark-brown hair, olive skin, and hazel eyes. They were roughly the same height and both were liberally tatted, but that was where the similarities ended. I offered my hand as Rory went through a quick round of introductions.

Justin shook my hand politely, then gave a harried nod toward a patron standing behind me. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing, thanks,” I replied.

“All righty. I gotta get back to work before they start climbing over the bar to serve themselves and—”

“This is the quarterback,” Rory intercepted.

Justin stopped abruptly and then cast his gaze between us. “Really?”

“He usually wears clothes that don’t have holes all over ’em but yeah…”

I scowled at Rory and was about to explain that the shirt was borrowed, but Justin didn’t seem to care either way. He grinned wickedly and leaned across the bar. “He has a big-time crush on you. Hasn’t stopped talking about you for weeks. If you need a character reference, call me. My little bro’s a good guy. Too damn smart, that’s for sure, but I can’t hold that against him. Yo…” He turned to Rory. “Do you need my keys?”

“No, I got it. See ya at your place.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Oh, hang on.” Justin snapped his fingers and gave me a conspiratorial look. “Someone oughtta tell you he farts in his sleep. Otherwise, great catch. Oh, wait…he leaves his socks on the…”

He was still talking as Rory pulled at my elbow and navigated us to the exit.

“That was a bad idea,” Rory griped. “All lies, I swear.”

I snickered and pulled my cell out when we stepped onto the sidewalk. I typed a quick message to let Max know I was leaving. Then I stuffed it back into my pocket, and rubbed my bare arms. The fresh air was refreshing, but I wouldn’t think so for long without a jacket.

“My sister’s like that too. It’s all funny until you turn the tables on them,” I said with a laugh.

“Is she older or younger than you?”

“Cara is older. How about Justin?”

“Two years older. Since you’re probably wondering…different dads, same mom. And no, I don’t fart in my sleep,” he scowled.

“How would you know, if you’re asleep?” I deadpanned.

“Ha. Ha.”

I tapped his bicep playfully, then pulled my cell out when it buzzed again. “Max is staying.”