How To Evict a Hot Jock in Three Weeks - Anyta Sunday Page 0,6
his SUV in the garage after work, Logan was ready. He signaled Brett and Gates who’d hidden outside. Five minutes.
Keys jingling, Alexander entered and Logan tossed himself over the length of the couch and opened Playboy.
The satisfying sound of footsteps came to a sudden halt, followed by a stifled groan.
Logan lowered the magazine. Alexander gaped at him, gripping his shoulder bag.
A wild grin tugged at Logan’s lips. “Alexander! You’re home.”
“I see you made yourself quite at home too.”
Logan scratched obnoxiously at his crotch. “Beautiful place. I can’t get enough of the view.”
“Some views are better than others.” Alexander shook his head violently and dropped his bag on the coffee table. “What is it you do again?”
Logan tossed the magazine atop the shoulder bag, and Alexander blinked at the busty cover, paling.
“I come from money, so I don’t have to do anything.”
“You’re in my home the whole day?” Alexander glanced around his precious space.
“Yep. Sometimes I like to hang out drinking at Clash. Or spit-roast a pig. Your yard is good for that.”
Alexander gulped. “I need a drink.”
“Speaking of drinks. Mind me havin’ some housewarming drinks tomorrow night with a few friends?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you mind?”
Alexander yanked open a cupboard. A few beats passed and he closed it again, gripping a glass. “Yes, by all means, go ahead.”
“You’ll join us too, I hope.”
Another long beat. “Of course.”
Logan leaped to his feet. “Fantastic. We need to start preppin’ now.” He opened the front door, and Brett and Gates carried a keg inside. Logan winked at them and rolled it over the threshold toward Alexander filling his glass at the faucet.
Water overflowed as he stared at Logan and the steel barrel. “You’ve got a keg?”
Logan laughed. “Oh, no.” On cue, Brett and Gates returned. “We’ve got three.”
* * *
Wednesday night
Logan convinced a bunch of actor friends to do him a solid.
At six sharp, “guests” started arriving. Brett and Gates had strung lights, and a DJ was playing classic hits.
Alexander had changed into an Obama Hope T-shirt. He gripped a red plastic cup of untouched beer; any tighter and liquid would slosh over the edge. Logan grinned, sidling next to him. “It’s gonna be a good night. Somebody better get ready to par-ty.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’ll be . . . memorable.”
Logan fisted his hands above his head and bucked his hips to the beat. “For sure. By the way, a few friends are from outta town. It’s cool if they crash on the couches, yeah?”
Alexander stared at the white furniture he’d spent considerable time covering in blankets. Logan longed for the moment he snapped and kicked him out.
“I’ll grab some extra blankets,” Alexander said, smiling.
The hell kinda grit was this guy made of?
“Also, my cousin Nela is coming. Red hair, nose-piercing. Can you, like, make sure if I have a few too many I don’t hook up with her again?”
“Again?” Alexander’s head whipped toward him.
“Second cousins. Don’t worry. But like. She’s clingy, so . . .” Logan thumped a palm on his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
* * *
Later Wednesday Night
Logan had been secretly downing apple-juice all night. His friends were performing perfectly, yelling at each other, trading cringe-worthy jokes, and burping to the extreme. Luci and Gates had started a ping-pong drinking game that Alexander had been scrutinizing the last hour. He thought he was being sly with a washcloth hidden up his sleeve, but Logan had caught on hours ago.
Tiny spill, and Alexander was there.
The rest of the time he sat next to Logan’s eighty-year-old “friend,” Granny, admiring her knitting.
If only he’d tell Logan to get the hell out already.
Logan cued phase two. Granny handed her knitting to Alexander and started downing a beer. His guests chanted drink, drink, drink, and poor Alexander looked on in horror. He swept in and put a quick stop to it, urging Granny back to the couch.
Granny, bless her, yanked him to the dance area and started grinding.
Alexander froze, blue and green lights flashing over him as Granny undulated to the beat against him.
Logan threaded his way over. “Granny. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Granny finished her beat and winked at Alexander. “He’s so cute, though.”
Brett whisked her into another dance, and Alexander turned his shocked expression on Logan.
“Havin’ fun?” Logan asked.
Alexander blinked.
Logan tamped down a laugh. “What d’ya think of my friends?”
“Do you often throw parties like this? On a weeknight?”
“Nah, just special occasions. Full moons. Fridays—”
“Not this Friday.” Alexander said. Relieved? “I have plans.”
His birthday. Right.
Wait, did that mean he wasn’t planning on evicting his ass?
Alexander’s attention jerked