Beyond the Play (Out of Reach 3)

“Nah, we all just refreshed with a new round right before you got here.”

“How long have you been here? It’s obvious that Troy is already three sheets to the wind.”

“Just about a half an hour. We did a little pregame at our place before we left.”

“Here you go.” The bartender places two vodka cranberries in front of me and slides my cash back as well. “Paid for,” he says, nodding to the other end of the bar where Holden sits.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling myself blush. It’s not the first time a handsome stranger has bought me a drink, but this is Holden Bailey. Yeah, I know he’s a manwhore extraordinaire, but still. Holden Bailey!

Pulling a few dollars from the cash he gave back, I drop it into the tip jar. Slowly, I lift my drink and turn toward the end of the bar. My eyes automatically lock with his, and I hold up my drink and mouth, “Thank you,” before grabbing the second drink and walking back to our table. I ignore the way my body heats from just his gaze. I ignore the intensity of those blue eyes I’ve seen staring at me on the television screen. And of course, I ignore the fact that even though he plays for our rival team, I’ve always thought he was sexy as hell. I’ll take that one to the grave with me.

“Hey, Parker, wait up,” Kate says, rushing to keep up with me. “What was that?”

“Nothing. He bought our drinks. I said thank you.” It was more than nothing. Just the look he was giving me has my body lit up like the Fourth of July. That man is way too sexy for his own good, and I need to keep my distance. Those blue eyes, they’re dangerous, and so is he.

“That man was devouring you with his eyes. You should go talk to him.”

“Not interested.” My mind knows this is true. My body, on the other hand, is all for going to thank Holden in person.

“It’s not like you have to marry the guy. Have some hot, sweaty sex to wash away the stress of midterms and call it a night. Or two,” she adds with a wink.

“What part of not interested in an STD did you not understand?”

“Come on, Parker. He can’t be that bad. You dated Dalton from the football team for like six months. I didn’t hear you complaining then.”

“I’m older and wiser. Besides, the notches on Holden’s bedpost make those on Dalton’s look like child’s play.” Dating Dalton was a good time. We were compatible as in we were both focused on our respective sports, and neither one of us needed or wanted much from the other. We would meet up at parties, hang out, and the sex wasn’t terrible. When I found out I was the only one treating us exclusively, I ended things. Sure, we weren’t serious, and he didn’t break my heart, but I’m a one-man kind of girl, serious or not. So, sadly, I said goodbye to Dalton and his six-pack, and I’ve been, as my friends like to call it, in a dry spell ever since.

“Well, if you don’t get some action soon, they’re going to need a machete to whack down all the cobwebs.”

“Ha-ha,” I reply dryly. She’s not wrong, but still.

“What are we talking about?” Autumn asks when I finally slide into my seat at the table and pass over her drink.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something. Some baseball sex god is sitting at the bar eyeing our girl here. He even bought your drinks,” Kate says, grinning as she reaches for her own drink that she left at the table.

“Stop.” I laugh. “It’s nothing. He bought us a drink. No big deal.” It’s also not a big deal that one look from him and my panties are ruined, right? I think I’ll keep that little slice of information to myself.

“Hate to break it to you, Monroe, but when a man buys you a drink, it’s a big deal,” Garret speaks up.

“He’s right,” his girlfriend and one of my close friends, Bridgett, adds. “He’s into you.”

“He’s just flirting. It happens all the time.”

“Trust me on this,” Garrett adds. “He’s not going to waste his money to just randomly buy you a drink unless he wants you.”

“G’s right,” Troy chimes in. “He wants you.”

“What in the hell are you waiting for? Go talk to him. Have some fun,” Autumn urges.

“You” I point at my best friend and roommate“need to drink that so we can hit the dance floor.” In a show of solidarity, or just to get them all to shut up about me going to talk to Holden freaking Bailey, I bring my drink to my lips and chug it. Probably not my smartest move of the night, but desperate times call for desperate measures. With one look, he has my body on fire. We have to stop talking about him. I need to get my ass out on the dance floor and clear my mind of everything but the beat of the music.