I can see from their playful expressions that it's all in good fun. Or at least it is before Garrett texts me.
My phone meows, and I grin the second I pull it out of my purse.
Garrett: U totally should've come to the post-game party tonite. Some chick just dumped a pitcher of beer over Dean's head.
I snort out loud and shoot back a quick text, because I have to know more.
Me: OMG. Why? (tho I'm sure he deserved it).
Him: Guess he forgot to tell her they weren't exclusive.
Me: Of course. Men.
Him: Men … finish that sentence … Men are awesome? Thanks, baby. I accept this award on behalf of all of us.
Me: The award for biggest douchebag? Yeah, you're the perfect spokesman.
Him: Awwww. I'm hurt. I'm not a DB :(
The notion that I might have hurt his feelings causes guilt to trickle through me.
Me: You're right. You're not. I'm sorry. :(
Him: Ha. You're the biggest softie on the planet. I wasn't hurt at all.
Me: Good, because the apology was for show.
"Hannah Wells, please report to the principal's office!"
My head jerks up, and I discover all four of my friends grinning at me again.
Dex, who'd voiced the booming command, addresses the group. "Oh, look, she's paying attention to us."
"Sorry," I say guiltily. "I will officially put my phone away for the duration of this get-together."
"Hey, you'll never guess who we saw at Ferro's last night," Meg says, referring to the Italian restaurant in town.
"Here we go," her boyfriend sighs. "Can't you go five seconds without gossiping, babe?"
"Nope." She flashes him a jovial smile before turning to me. "Cass and Mary Jane," she announces. "They were on a date."
"Did you know they were together?" Stella demands.
"I know he asked her out," I admit. "But I was hoping she'd be smart enough to say no."
But I'm not surprised to hear that MJ had done the opposite. And now I'm certainly not looking forward to Monday's rehearsal, because if Cass and MJ are a "couple" now? I'll never win an argument about the duet ever again.
"Is that ass-hat still causing trouble at rehearsals?" Dex asks with a frown.
"Yup. It's like he's made it his mission in life to piss me off. But we don't rehearse on the weekends, so I have a reprieve from his bullshit until Monday. How's your piece going?"
Dex's expression turns serious. "It's great, actually. Jon's been really good about listening to my suggestions. He's not crazy possessive over the song, you know? But he also has no problem saying no to my ideas, which I also appreciate."
Well, at least one of us lucked out in the songwriter department. MJ seems perfectly content to let Cass light a match to her song and set it on fire.
"Okay, I totally want to hear more, but I need to grab a coffee first." I hop out of my seat and pick up my purse. "Does anyone want anything while I'm up there?"
After everyone shakes their heads, I head to the counter and stand at the end of the long line. The coffee house is surprisingly packed for a Sunday night, and I'm startled when several people in line nod or say hello to me. I don't know a single one, but I smile awkwardly and nod back, then pretend to text on my phone because I don't want to get drawn into a conversation with a stranger. Maybe I met them at Beau's party? All the introductions Garrett made are a total blur to me, though. The only people whose names and faces I remember are Beau and Justin and a few of the other football players.
There's a soft tap on my shoulder, and I turn around to find myself peering up at Justin's vivid blue eyes.
Speak of the devil.
"Oh, hi," I squeak out.
"Hey." He slides his hands into the pockets of his football jacket. "How's it going?"
I try to sound casual despite my racing heart. "Good. You?"
"I'm great. But … I am curious about something." He slants his head in the most adorable way, and when a lock of dark hair falls onto his forehead, I fight the urge to brush it away. "What exactly do you have against parties?" he asks with a grin.
I blink. "What?"
"I've run into you at two parties now, and both times you left early." He pauses. "Actually, both times you left with Graham."
Discomfort coils around my spine. "Uh, yeah. Well, he's got a car. I can't pass up a free ride."
The second I say it, I realize how dirty that sounded, but unlike Garrett, who would have pounced on the ride remark in a heartbeat, Justin doesn't even crack a smile. If anything, he looks disturbed.
He's quiet for a moment before lowering his voice. "You know what? I'm just gonna come out and ask-are you and Graham friends, or is it something more?"
My phone rings the second he voices the question, proving that iPhones have the absolute worst timing. As Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" blares from the speaker, everyone in line looks over with a grin. Why is "Sexy Back" blaring out of my phone? Well, because a very obnoxious hockey player programmed it in as his ringtone, and I've been too lazy to change it.
Justin's gaze drops to my phone, and since the screen is facing upward, he doesn't miss the name flashing across it in huge block letters.
GARRETT GRAHAM.
"I guess that answers my question," he says wryly.
I quickly press the ignore button. "No. Garrett and I aren't together. And just so you don't think I'm a total weirdo, I didn't assign him that ringtone. He did."
Justin still looks dubious. "So you're not dating him?"
Since the whole point of going to Beau's party with Garrett was to make me seem desirable, I stick to the lie. "We're casually seeing each other, but we're not exclusive or anything. We see other people, too."
"Oh. Okay."
The line shifts closer to the counter, and we shuffle right along with it.
"Does that mean you're allowed to have dinner with me sometime?" Justin asks with a faint smile.
A pang of alarm lights my belly. I can't quite make sense of it, so I decide to ignore it. "I'm allowed to do whatever I want. Like I said, Garrett and I aren't together. We just hang out sometimes."
God, that sounds sleazy. I know what guys think when they hear that. I might as well have said, I'm just sleeping with him, no strings attached.
However, Justin doesn't seem put off by that. His hands move from his pockets to the belt loops of his cargo pants in a slightly awkward pose. "Look. Hannah. I think you're pretty cool." He shrugs. "I'd like to get to know you better."
My heart skips a beat. "Really?"
"Totally. And I'm fine if you're dating other people at the same time, but … " His expression becomes intense. "If you and I go out a couple times and we have the kind of connection I think we're going to have, then I'm gonna want to invoke an exclusive clause pretty damn soon."
I can't help but smile. "I didn't realize football players were interested in monogamy," I tease.
He chuckles. "My teammates sure as hell aren't, but I'm not like them. If I'm into a girl, I want her to be with me and only me." I don't know what to say to that, but fortunately he goes on before I can respond. "But it's way too early to talk about stuff like that, huh? How about we start with dinner?"
Oh my God. He's asking me out. Not for coffee, not to study, but an actual date.
I should be doing internal cartwheels or something, and yet I can't shake the apprehension churning in my stomach, the muffled little alarm bells that are telling me to say … no. But that's crazy. I've been obsessing over this guy since school started. I want to go out with him.
I exhale a slow breath. "Sure, that sounds great. When?"
"Well, I'm kinda swamped this week. I have two papers to write, and then I'll be in Buffalo with the team this weekend. How about a week from now? Next Sunday, maybe?"
My phone busts out its rendition of "Sexy Back."
A frown touches Justin's lips, but it fades when I hastily press ignore again.
"Next Sunday is great," I say firmly.
"Awesome."
We reach the counter, and I order a large mocha latte, but before I can reach for my wallet, Justin comes up beside me, places his own order, and proceeds to pay for both of us. "My treat."
His husky voice sends a shiver racing through me.
"Thank you."
As we move to the other end of the counter to wait for our drinks, he does that cute head-tilting thing again. "Are you sticking around here, or do you want me to walk you back to your dorm? Wait-you're in the dorms, right? Or do you live off-campus?"
"I'm in Bristol House."
"Hey, we're next door neighbors. I'm in Hartford."
The barista slides our orders on the counter. Justin reaches for his cup, then grins at me. "Shall we walk back together, milady?"
Okay. Well, that was … cheesy. And he didn't thank the girl at the counter when she handed him his coffee. I don't know why that bothers me, but it does.
Still, I force a smile, even as I give the rueful shake of my head. "I would, but I'm here with friends."