ISABELLA
I’ve gotten way too used to the smell of grease and beer. I guess that’s what coming to the bar almost every week does to you. I slip inside alone, the blast of warmth hitting my skin as I scan the room.
Aurora’s over at Westbrook visiting her boyfriend for the weekend, and the second I walked into my empty dorm, the quiet started creeping under my skin.
I needed noise. Something that felt alive.
I weave my way through the crowd, stopping when I see him, but he doesn’t see me.
Ryan’s posted up at the bar, leaning back on his stool with one foot hooked around the leg, nursing a beer. His hair’s a little messy, and his white T-shirt stretches over the shoulders I know too well. The rest of the team is here too, spread across a long table littered with half-finished drinks and empty baskets of fries.
My phone buzzes before I even make it to the bar, and I read the texts Ryan sent before I left.
Ryan:
What are you wearing?
Me:
Wouldn’t you like to know.
Ryan:
I would actually. Send me a pic and maybe I’ll behave tonight.
Me:
You never behave.
Ryan:
Exactly. So pic, baby. I’m hard already thinking about it.
I roll my eyes, biting back a grin as I step up beside him. He glances over, his eyes widening at the sight of me before they drag down the length of me.
“Fuck, this is so much better than a picture,” he murmurs, his voice rough.
I breathe out a laugh as I slip onto the stool beside him.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says as he turns his body to face me.
I shrug. “I didn’t want to stay in my room all alone,” I admit, meeting his eyes. “Besides, I wanted to see you.”
It’s dangerous, I know. We’re surrounded by the team—including my brother—but sneaking around is hard.
Ryan should glance away, put some distance between us. But his thigh bumps mine as he turns slightly, and the way his fingers brush against my wrist makes my pulse jump. We don’t touch in public. Not really. Not when Nathan’s in the room.
“I always want to see you,” Ryan whispers, his lips curling into a smile, those brown eyes of his that I love twinkling.
We break apart at the sound of a throat clearing and I glance to my side, seeing Cole slap a hand on the bar, to garner the bartender’s attention.
His eyes flick to me the second he feels my stare.
“You came alone tonight?” he asks, his brow arched.
I’ve never really spoken to Cole before, don’t really know much about him, other than that he fights a lot and Aurora hates him… and that—based on his timely throat clearing—he knows about me and Ryan.
I nod. “Yeah, Aurora’s visiting her boyfriend this weekend.”
