Kiss To Forget (Blairwood University #2) - Anna B. Doe Page 0,16

the girls if they can hold it for me while I grab my drink at the bar and they agree.

I’m winded by the time I reach the bar. After spending the last few hours in an almost-deserted coffee shop, Moore’s is loud and suffocating. Between the music blasting from the speakers, and people talking animatedly all around me, it’s just too much.

The bar’s also filled with people waiting to order, so I lean my elbows on the shiny dark counter and prepare to wait.

Tonight Mark is manning the bar. He sees me almost instantly, giving me the universal sign for just a minute, which I wave off. I don’t mind waiting—anything that will keep me away from that table. I didn’t want to come before I knew Nixon was here, and now knowing it, I want to go back even less.

The hour I promised Callie started ticking off the moment I entered Moore’s. It’s not my problem if the bar is so crowded I have to spend half the time just waiting for my drink.

“Yasmin! What’s up, girl?” Mark asks once he finally comes to me. “Haven’t seen you here in a while.”

Mark is a sweetheart. We had a class together last semester, and he helped me study when I was stuck for a bit there. At five-ten, he’s a few inches taller than me, his bleached blond hair is styled to perfection, and his famous hipster glasses, which he doesn’t actually need although he refuses to admit it, are propped on the bridge of his nose as he smiles at me.

“Nothing much.” I shrug with a smile. “Keeping busy as always. And tonight would be my roommate’s fault. This semester is already kicking my ass, but my friend wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Good for her, you need to have more fun.” His grin widens as he pats my hand.

“So they keep saying.”

“What will I get you? The usual?”

I look over the bar and the bottles hanging above it. I was thinking of going with a beer, but now I’m rethinking that choice. If I want to survive the next hour, I’ll need something stronger.

“How about a gin and tonic?”

His brows shoot up his forehead. He knows me too well. “You’re not messing around tonight, huh?”

“Let’s say I’ll need it if I want to survive this night,” I comment dryly.

Mark shakes his head. “One gin and tonic, coming right up.”

“Thanks, Mark,” I say after him, a smile on my face.

I’m about to grab my phone out of my pocket to do some mindless scrolling through social media when somebody whispers in my ear.

“What would the coach say if he saw you flirting with other guys?”

I jerk in surprise and turn around, shocked to find Nixon standing right there behind me. My eyes move up until they land on his. They’re glassy, and there is a flush to his cheeks I hadn’t noticed before; his bright blue irises are swallowed by his pupils.

“You’re drunk, Nixon,” I hiss quietly, so only he can hear me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

My stomach clenches with unease. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but I don’t like this one bit.

“Better question is, what are you doing, Yasmin?” He tries to reach for me but sways on his feet, losing his balance and falling over me. My hands shoot up, steadying him, as I curse him silently.

Nixon might be leaner than most of his teammates, but he’s no less heavy. And all those lean, warm muscles are now pressed against me.

He chuckles, making me narrow my eyes at him even further.

“What?”

Is he on something other than alcohol? He doesn’t seem like a guy who’d put his career at stake for something as foolish as drugs, but what the hell do I know?

“You’re cute when you curse me in Spanish.” Nixon reaches to brush his hand against my cheek, but ends up poking me in the eyes.

“You won’t think that once I rip you a new one,” I mutter, shoving his hand away. “And stop poking me.”

Idiota.

“See what I mean?” This time he manages to brush his hand over my cheek. My whole body stills as tingles spread underneath the skin he touched. “Such a shame all that spice is wasted on Coach.”

The warmth in my body turns into fire. I push him away, my cheeks burning with shame.

Niña tonta. You can’t forget who he is. What he knows.

“You’re drunk and don’t know what you’re saying.” I look around and find some people staring