Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (20 page)

Now that the guys have the bottles of Champagne and eight glasses, they ask the waitress to invite the table of women up. I cringe, but remember what Deeks said. I’m not doing anything wrong by being here and as long as I behave, I have nothing to worry about.

As the women make their way over, Deeks says, “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“I know her,” he says, pointing to a pretty brunette in a blue dress.

“Sleep with her?” Jones asks.

“No. She’s friends with Hilary.”

“Tough luck, man,” Lispenard says.

I give Deeks a questioning look and he says, “Hil and I are aren’t technically exclusive.”

“So you weren’t planning to keep your hands to yourself tonight,” I say.

“Not exactly. But now I have to. Because I’m sure as hell not going to mess around with friends of Hilary’s friend.”

“That means there are two for each of us,” Jones says to Lispenard.

As the women approach, Deeks stands and says, “Mariella! Great to see you.”

“Jeremiah,” she says demurely before introducing her friends to us. Then Deeks takes over with the introductions, and when he says my name, Mariella’s gaze lingers on me.

“You’re the new wide receiver,” she says, her voice one of those naturally gravelly, low altos that exudes sensuality.

“That’s me.”

“You’re not bad,” she says, accepting a glass of Champagne from Lispenard. As her friends take seats, obviously maneuvering so that they’re sitting in between each of us, making a man-woman-man-woman pattern, Mariella sits between Deeks and me.

“Don’t play with this one,” Deeks says to Mariella. “He’s taken.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says. “The girl-next-door fiancée.”

I smile and she asks, “So what does she think of all this?”

“She’s excited for me.”

“I’m sure she is,” Mariella says, an amused look on her face. “And where is she tonight?”

“She lives in Missouri.”

“Really?” she asks, sounding truly surprised. “She just lets a strapping guy like you loose in New Orleans?”

“It’s not really like that,” I say, feeling uncomfortable.

“I sure as hell wouldn’t be okay with my man here all by himself.”

I shrug. “I’ve found the woman for me. She knows that.”

“Good for you,” she says, seeming sincere. “So, tell me all of the embarrassing stories about Deeks. I’m sure by now you know that I know his, well. His Hilary.”

Clearly this woman is in on the not-being-exclusive thing.

“I don’t think I have any embarrassing stories. Deeks is a smooth operator.”

“At all times,” Deeks says.

Suddenly, there’s a photographer in the booth and everyone leans in together for a picture. The photographer snaps a few shots of our group and then lingers near the booth, probably in hopes of getting a scandalous candid.

When another round of shots is brought to the table, I lean over to Deeks and ask, “Are we paying for these shots?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You really are a rookie.”

“Seriously. Who is paying for them?”

“They’re complimentary.”

“They’re giving us shots for free?”

“Here’s how this works,” he says. “We show up at their club, drop some money on Champagne, and get photographed. One of these ladies, or someone else who is at the club, will tell the world via the Internet that we’re here. So the club looks like a celebrity hot spot and they get free publicity, all because we showed up here tonight. So, yeah, they give us complimentary shots because they want us to keep coming back here.”

“Got it,” I say.

The lights in the club dim from low to nearly dark, an excited titter goes through the crowd, and a DJ walks out onto a raised stage.

“Kistler, man, this is what you’ve been waiting for, right?” Jones shouts at me.

I nod my head, even though I haven’t actually been waiting for this—this is just more my idea of a club.

The DJ begins spinning a song with a sultry, sinewy groove, and everyone at our table immediately gets up to go to the dance floor. Everyone, except me.

“You coming?” Mariella asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“Nah,” I say. “Not a great dancer.”

“Who cares?” she says. “Come on. Have some fun.”

“Kistler, get your ass up,” Lispenard yells.

If I don’t, I’m never going to hear the end of it in the locker room.

I swipe one of the shots off the tray and tip it back before getting up and heading to the dance floor, where the rest of the club’s population is writhing together en masse.

Mariella puts herself directly in front of me and says, “I’ll shield you from the rest of the women here. They’re rabid.”

I make sure to keep distance between myself and Mariella, who is moving her hips in time to the beat, Deeks’s advice of
keep your hands to yourself
echoing in my head.

After a few songs, I head to the bar for a glass of water. It’s getting late, and if I’m going to be worth anything in practice tomorrow, I need to get to bed soon. I’ve only had two shots and a beer, which isn’t enough to get me drunk, but I don’t want to risk driving.

I pull out my phone and find the number for the team’s publicity assistant.

“Hello?”

“Hey. This is Adam Kistler. I’m at Doc Voodoo’s and need a sober driver to get me and my Jeep back to my place.”

“I can do that,” she says. “I’ll send a cab and an extra driver to follow you guys in your Jeep. I’ll text you with their ETA as soon as I confirm with the company.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for calling.”

Five minutes later, I have the confirmation and instructions to meet the cab behind the club in the parking lot in ten minutes.

I head back to the dance floor to tell the guys that I’m out for the night. They rib me a little for bailing early, which I can deal with, and Deeks gives me a knowing look.

“You did good tonight, rookie,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get home safe.”

“You’re leaving?” Mariella asks.

“Yeah. I’m tired.”

She nods and says, “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Adam Kistler.”

“You, too,” I say, before giving the group a final wave and heading out the back door to the cab.

Courtney

It’s Friday night and I’m bored.

Worse than that, I’m restless.

Willa has been Skyping with Dan for the last two hours, Sophie is at the Delta Tau house for one of their parties, Kate is party hopping, Becca is out with other friends, and I already talked to Adam tonight. Unlike Willa and Dan, we’re not the kind of couple who talks for hours on end about nothing. I can’t decide if I’m jealous of her ability to do that with her boyfriend or if I think it’s insane.

Both Sophie and Kate invited me to parties, but I’m not in a party mood.

Then again, I’m so bored that maybe a party is a good idea. It will at least give me something to do. Before I can change my mind, I text Sophie and Kate to tell them that I’ll go to the Delta Tau party. After they both send exclamation points and emojis in response, I start getting ready, pulling out a pair of dark-washed bootcut jeans.

When I put them on, it turns out they’re baggy.

Holy crap. I’ve lost enough weight that my jeans are
baggy
on me!

I feel an immense sense of satisfaction and relief washes over me. I was really beginning to think that my devotion to this diet wasn’t going to ever pay off—that maybe I’d hit some sort of weight-loss wall.

But I haven’t.

Feeling great, I take them off and put on a red dress that’s always been a little snug on me. When I get it over my head, I realize that it fits. In fact, it’s a tiny bit loose.

This is incredible.

I grab a belt and wrap it around my waist, hiding the fact that the dress is a smidge too big, and then, since I’m wearing a dress, decide to put on some makeup. Might as well go all out.

When I’m finished getting ready, I knock on Willa’s door to let her know I’m heading out. I hear her say, “Hold on a second,” to Dan before she opens the door.

“Holy bazoo,” she says. “You look like a freaking sex bomb.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You look awesome,” she says sincerely. “You should wear red more often. What are you up to tonight?”

“I’m going to head over to the Delta Tau party. Are you in for the night?”

She looks over at her computer and says, “Yeah, probably. If not, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay,” I say. “Tell Dan I say hello.”

She nods and says, “Have fun tonight.”

Ten minutes later, I’m at the front door of the Delta Tau house, where there’s a campus police officer and a guy sitting at a table in front of the front door.

“Hello,” he says, looking me up and down as the officer checks my student ID. “Welcome to Delta Tau.”

The police officer opens the door for me and I walk into the gorgeous entryway and up the stairs that’ll take me to the less gorgeous part of the house where all the guys live and the parties take place.

I text Sophie to let her know I’m here and she meets me at the top of the stairs.

“Look at you!” she says. “You’re making everyone else look bad.”

“Please,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“No, seriously, you look phenomenal.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s not a compliment, just a freaking fact. Come on. Luke’s room is this way.”

She takes my hand and leads me through the already crowded hallways to Luke’s room, which is in a different part of the house than it was last year. I probably wouldn’t have thought about that and gone directly to his old room, thoroughly embarrassing myself in the process.

There’s a small group gathered in Luke’s room and when he sees me, his eyes widen and he says, “Courtney!” before coming over and giving me a side hug. “Good to see you. What can I get you to drink?”

I try to think of a drink with the least amount of carbs and sugar in it and come up empty. Alcohol is chock full of carbs and sugar. There’s no avoiding it.

“Beer is great,” I say, making a deal with myself to drink the one beer and do thirty extra minutes on the elliptical tomorrow.

“Coming right up,” Luke says, going to his mini-fridge, grabbing a beer, untwisting the cap, and pouring it into a red cup before handing it to me.

“Thanks, Mr. President,” I say.

Luke pointedly grins and lifts his eyebrows in Sophie’s direction as she says, “Courtney, no!”

“What?”

“He keeps asking me to call him Mr. President and I’ve been refusing,” Sophie says.

“Oh,” I say, understanding. “Well. I wouldn’t call him Mr. President in that context, either.”

“See?” Sophie says, returning Luke’s pointed look. But he just laughs and says, “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Trying what?” Kate asks, leaning against the door. She’s wearing a tiny dress and sky-high heels, and her face starting to turn red. The Asian Flush, as she calls it.

“Luke wants me to call him Mr. President.”

“In bed?” Kate asks loudly. “Or all the time?”

Everyone in the room laughs at that. “Preferably all the time,” Luke says. “She’s also refused to call me ‘Editor in Chief, sir’ in the newsroom.”

Sophie groans and rolls her eyes.

“So, when’s this party really getting started?” Kate asks.

“Now that you’re here, the festivities can officially begin,” Luke says.

“Has Courtney not made it yet?” she asks, looking around the room, her gaze moving right past me. “She texted and said she was coming.”

“Kate,” I say, and her eyes find mine.

“Oh. My. God,” she says dramatically. “I’m either already so drunk that I didn’t recognize you or you look completely different.”

“I think it might be a little of both,” I say.

“You’re probably right,” she says, moving closer to me. “I just saw you at lunch today and you didn’t look like this.”

“I was wearing running shorts and a T-shirt.”

“You need to stop that and start showing off this body more often. Damn, girl.”

“Back down, Kate,” Luke says. “Otherwise I’ll have to sic Adam on you.”

“You’ll need to sic him on all the guys here,” Kate says. “And probably some of the girls.”

Sophie comes over to Kate and me and says, “Lean in,” as she holds her phone up, taking a photo of the three of us. She turns the camera around so that we can see it, and I’m shocked that it’s actually a picture of myself that I like.

“Oh,” I say. “That’s a cute one.”

“We look hot,” Kate says.

“Internet-worthy, then?” Sophie asks.

I nod and Kate says, “Def.”

“All right,” Luke says. “Let’s make moves upstairs.”

“Woo!” Kate yells, and the group of us make our way to the top floor of the house, where a DJ is spinning. Kate jumps into the dancing fray immediately.

“Come on,” Sophie says, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the crowd with her and Luke.

Luke grabs onto Sophie’s hips and starts dancing behind her, and I awkwardly move to the beat next to them. From behind me I hear a voice say, “Hey, gorgeous,” and I look over my shoulder and into the face of Juan Escobar, one of the Mizzou football players who used to hang out with Adam last year.

“Hey, Juan.”

“Courtney,” he says, his eyes growing wide. “Sorry. I didn’t recognize you from, uh, from behind.”

“It’s okay. No harm, no foul.”

“Have you lost weight?” he asks impolitely, motioning for me to follow him to the periphery of the dance floor so it’s easier to us to talk. “I mean, uh, you look great. Thinner. But really great. God, I’m a dick, aren’t I?”

I laugh and say, “I’ve lost some weight, yeah. You’re not a dick because you at least realized what you said was dickish. How are things going?”

“Great,” he says. “Junior year is kicking ass so far.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be out the night before a game?”

His eyes get wide again and I say, “I’m kidding, Juan. You’re a grown-ass man and can do what you want. Besides, who am I going to tell?”

“Kistler. I’m sure he has a direct line of communication with Coach.”

I roll my eyes and say, “I’m not going to be the one to bust you for being out when you should be getting rested up before the game. But if you suck tomorrow, it’ll be your own damn fault.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I hear you loud and clear.”

“Juan! There you are, man. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Ricky Young says, before he sees me. “Whoa, Courtney. When did you get skinny?”

Football players.

At first I’m rolling my eyes at the question but then I realize what he said—he called me skinny. Not thin. Skinny. Crazy!

“Hey, Ricky,” I say pointedly. “I’ve just been trying to get into shape.”

He eyes me up and down and says, “Just don’t become one of those rail-thin girls, okay? We’re all jealous of Kistler.”

“Dude,” Juan says sharply to him before turning back to me. “Don’t mind him. He’s obviously had more than enough to drink.”

I
tsk
at them and Juan says, “So, we should go. Tell Kistler we say hi.”

I nod and say, “Have a restful night. Big game tomorrow and all.”

“Thanks,” he says sheepishly. “It was good to see you.”

“You, too. Bye, guys.”

As they leave, I look back to the dance floor and somehow catch Sophie’s eye. She breaks away from Luke and comes over to me.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just shamed a couple of the football guys into going home and sleeping since they aren’t supposed to be out the night before a game.”

Sophie laughs and says, “Poor guys.”

“Both of them asked me point-blank if I had lost weight. Ricky Young actually called me skinny. Crazy, right? Me being called skinny?”

“Well,” she says. “You are noticeably thinner. How much weight have you lost, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Only about ten pounds or so,” I say, even though I know that it’s exactly thirteen. “I never knew it would make that much of a difference.”

“Ten pounds in a handful of weeks is a lot,” she says.

“I think I just have that much to lose. I’m still fifteen pounds away from my goal weight.”

“Really?” she asks. “You look truly fantastic. I mean, you didn’t look bad before, no matter what you think. I’m all for you eating healthier and getting in shape, but make sure you don’t go overboard.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m just going to get to my goal weight and then I’ll stop with the crazy diet. I’ll even out so that I can maintain the weight.”

She nods and says, “Okay. But I still think you should consider stopping the crazy diet now. Because, girl, you are looking fine.” She says the last part in a thick ghetto accent and I can’t help but laugh.

“Come on,” she says, looking back toward the dance floor, where a bunch of girls are moving in on Luke. “I need to go remind all those bitches that Luke is mine.”