Until her.
“I guess I won’t see you again until the draft, huh, West?” Caleb’s tone stays smooth, but he can’t hide the lumps from me—the frustration in his eyes, the anger bunching his jaw, the tight fists at his sides.
“Probably not.” My eyes stray to Iris. As tall as she is, the two of us dwarf her. I give in to temptation and rake my eyes deliberately over her body again. “I’d wish you luck, but you’re obviously a very lucky man.”
She draws a deep breath that lifts her breasts under the cropped top. Caleb’s narrowed eyes shift between the two of us, like he suspects there’s a silent, secret message we’re passing between each other under his nose. I wish there was a way for me to telegraph to her what I’m thinking: to ask why she’d fall for the act he dupes everyone else with. And why, knowing the well-documented rivalry between us, did she not tell me who she was last night? For the first time since I saw her at that bar, I wish I hadn’t. It would have been better to never know there was a girl out there who could make me feel this way after only one night than to know she chose a guy like him.
“Congratulations, again, August.” Iris’s smile is starched and stiff, but I know she’s sincere. “Caleb, we should get back to the party. Your father’s probably looking for you.”
Iris tugs his arm, but he doesn’t budge for a second, watching me. Silently warning me. I grin at him, so he knows I don’t give a fuck and that he doesn’t intimidate me.
After another second, he nods at Iris and they head toward their box. They’re absorbed into the press of people, and I’m left standing alone. The sense of loss I felt when she walked away the night before is nothing compared to what I feel now. Now it’s not just that I can’t have Iris. It’s that I can’t have her because he does. And the girl I met last night, she deserves better than Caleb.
My teammates, Coach Mannard, the boosters—everybody’s celebrating, and I’m determined to join the party. This is everything I’ve worked for, and I refuse to allow Caleb and his girlfriend to spoil it for me. A few of the cheerleaders have thrown clear signals they’d love to find themselves under a national champ tonight. Or on top. Or on their knees. I’m not picky, and I could use the distraction.
After half a bottle of champagne, I’m game for whatever. Who needs Caleb’s leftovers when I can have something hot and fresh right here? I’m at the bar in our box still convincing myself when Iris joins me.
“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” She stares straight ahead at the bottles lining the wall behind the bar for a moment before she turns to me.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” I tip the half-empty champagne bottle up to my lips. “I’m surprised he let his consolation prize out of his sight.”
“Wow.” She shakes her head, a humorless smile resting on her lips. “I probably deserve that, but . . . wow. To answer your question, Caleb and his dad are talking with a potential agent.”
“And you decided to sneak over here to check on me?” I slide her a glance as cold and hard as glass. “To make sure I’ve recovered from the shock of seeing you with the golden boy?”
Iris rests her elbow on the bar, watching my profile for a moment before speaking. “No. I came back to say I’m sorry, August.” Her voice holds genuine remorse. “I should have told you about Caleb.”
“Yeah.” I turn toward her, hoping she feels at least an aftershock from the irritation rumbling inside me. “You should have.”
I’m being an asshole. I know it, but I can’t seem to stop even when I see the hurt accumulating in her eyes. I’m too drunk. Drunk on disappointment. On frustration. On anger. The half-empty bottle is merely my excuse to show it.
“When you first sat down at the bar last night, I thought maybe you were just a jerk.” Her eyes tease me from under her lashes.
I bark a laugh and take another swig from my bottle. “Thanks for that.”
“You know what I mean,” she says, loosening into a small smile. “Then once we started talking, there didn’t seem to be a good place to say, ‘Hey, I’m Caleb Bradley’s girlfriend.’” She traces a pattern on the bar, dipping her head until a fall of hair conceals much of her face. “After a while, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.”
If I had known she was Caleb’s girl, I wouldn’t have sat down. I would have kept walking out that door and made curfew in plenty of time. But she’s right. Even just a few minutes into our conversation, knowing about Caleb wouldn’t have made me leave. Not once we started. Not once I knew her.