“Awesome! I can’t do this without you, you know that, right?”
“I know that I need every single detail!”
“No, you need to go to the bar and play nice so I don’t have to have the most awkward wedding in the history of weddings, okay?”
I nodded. “I can do this. For you.”
“Don’t just do it for me, Heaven, do it for yourself so you can move on, okay?”
“Holy shit. I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
“I know! But go! We’ll talk later.” I walked to the closet to dig for an appropriate outfit. A just-friends outfit. “Oh, and girl, do me a favor.”
“Sure, what?”
“Don’t tell them about the wedding yet. We’re going to officially announce it, but…well, you caught me off guard.”
I held up the jersey for Hayden’s team to my chest. “I’m so excited for you, Amber. Both of you.”
“Thanks. And I’m excited for you, too. Go to the game. Give them both a big kiss—wait no, don’t do that. Tell them I said hi. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can promise two of those things. Nothing more.”
Her laughter sounded like a song, and I felt a million times better after hanging up. Amber was getting married and I was growing up—having guy friends. Or at least, that was what I told myself.
9
Heaven
Parkside Tavern wasn’t unfamiliar to me. I just hadn’t been in a long time, knowing it was the boys’ haunt for watching soccer games on the dozens of screens hanging from the ceiling. The bar specialized in major league games, showing every big event across the country and overseas, something almost impossible to find on regular TV. Hayden’s team, Atlanta United, was one of the fastest-growing teams in the league.
The strong scent of beer and fried food hit me when I entered the bar and I cast my eyes toward the table in the back corner. They’d claimed it long ago, when we first graduated and moved here. Sure enough, I spotted the two with drinks and food in front of them, eyes glued to the pre-game commentary on the screen. As with many things about the Allendale Four, they were creatures of habit, and I found the familiarities both comforting and unnerving.
I tugged at the snug-fitting jersey Hayden had sent me when he made the team, his name and number, 05, emblazoned on the back. In the past it would have implied him marking his territory—now, I’m just another fangirl in a world of fangirls—rooting for Hayden Pierce, the hottest goalie in the States.
“Heaven!” Jackson shouted, waving me over. I smiled and took a deep, steadying breath. I could do this.
“Nice shirt,” Oliver said, eyes skimming the way it tapered over my hips. He pointed to his own, the male version of mine. “I assume you got that in the mail, too?”
“Priority,” I laughed, sitting in the seat Jax offered me. His blond hair dipped in front of his eyes and I fought the urge to push it back. “He was so proud.”
“He should be,” Oliver said. “AU is killing it this season. I read the other night they had the biggest crowd for a soccer game, ever.”
“All time,” Jackson added. “There’s no doubt Hayden’s some of the appeal. His game has reached new levels.” He pointed around the room and sure enough there were lots of number 05 jerseys. “And damn he’s popular.”
More than a fair share of the jerseys were on women and I had zero doubt why. Hayden was still heartbreakingly handsome and physically imposing—more so than before. Women watched as much for a peek at his rock-solid abs as they did for his gravity-defying saves.
“You know Hayden’s always had that elusive, quiet thing going on,” I said. The waitress came over to the table and asked for my order. I wanted nothing more than to say Diet Coke, but I remembered what Amber told me and played up the friend role and ordered beer.
I could do this.
If either Oliver or Jackson noted my actions they said nothing, and it dawned on me that maybe they’d already made this move—into the friend zone. Maybe I was the only one still hung up. The thought left me conflicted, but the game started and it was easy to focus on that instead of everything else; like the way Oliver’s jaw tensed when the other team had the ball or how Jackson licked his fingertips after inhaling a plate of wings. I ignored the women that glanced at our table and gave a high five to the man at the table next to ours when AU scored. I kept my breathing steady when the ball careened toward Hayden and he made save after save, some alarmingly dangerous.
“One of these days he’s going to hurt himself,” I muttered into my second beer, watching him pick himself off the ground and walk with a cocky swagger to the goal line.
“He takes a lot of precautions in his training and equipment,” Oliver said, “but I agree. He’s getting risky.”
Jackson shook his head. “Fucking show off.”