“Look at Mr. Nightly Hookup, trying to play like he’s a saint. Boy, please.”
Drew too makes a noise of disbelief. “Are you forgetting the stripper who went down on you in front of everybody at your birthday party?”
Anna elbows Drew’s ribs, and he does a double take, his gaze shooting to Anna and then to me. Understanding sets in, and his eyes widen in obvious chagrin. He coughs and looks away.
Gray, however, waves a hand. “Please, that is nothing compared to these chuckle-heads’ antics.” Despite his light tone, he resolutely doesn’t look at me.
Marshall takes the moment to add, “Man, that chick had a mouth on her. Sucked me off that night too. Bless her heart.”
Only then do all the guys pause and glance at me, wincing a bit as if they know they’ve gone too far. And what can I say? Yay, I’m so glad Gray got a blowjob from a stripper! I sure hope she washed her mouth out in between blows! I take a hasty sip of my soda. Rolondo looks at me for a second, his dark eyes serious. Then he pulls a grin.
“Did your boys ever tell you about Cheerio?” he asks Anna and me.
Instantly all the guys groan. Drew ducks his head into the crook of Anna’s neck, while Gray simply starts to laugh and shake his head as if to say, “No, no, don’t do it.” But how are we supposed to resist that tease? Even more, I’m desperate to hear any story that doesn’t involve Gray and sex.
Anna and I demand that Rolondo enlighten us. But it’s Johnson who answers. His eyes gleam as he settles more comfortably in his seat. “This was back when most of us were freshmen. Dude was a senior. Defensive end.”
“Crazy-ass motherfuckers,” Diaz mutters, though he looks amused.
Yeah,” Johnson says. “Cheerio decided to have a party. You know, introduce us newbies to the team. It’s all cool until the end.”
“Some things cannot be unseen, man.” Dex shoves his fries toward Thompson as if he’s lost his appetite.
“Anyway.” Johnson gives Dex a pointed look of annoyance. “As I was saying, Cheerio—”
“Who we used to call Marcus,” Drew adds, his lips twitching. “Until that night.”
“Marcus,” Johnson stresses, “goes to the kitchen, grabs a box of cereal and a jug of milk and brings it back to the living room.” Johnson starts to snicker, glee making his face turn red as he continues his story. “We think nothing of it. The fucker is hungry, and so what? Until he drops his pants.”
“What?” Anna’s red brows rise high. “Why?”
They’re all choking on their laughter now.
“Dude grabs hold of his nut sack, stretches it out and fucking pours milk and cereal into it.”
The guys roar with laughter, the deep sound of it bubbling over the room.
“Wha—?” Anna, horrified, glances at me and then back at Johnson who is laughing so hard, he’s crying. “Why would he do that? I don’t even understand how he could accomplish it. What do you mean ‘into it’?”
“Like he made a little bowl out of his sack.” Johnson seems to think this makes everything clear.
“He must have had an enormous ball sack,” I mutter.
Which only makes the guys lose it entirely. Gray slaps a hand against the table as he doubles over.
Anna turns to me. “Can you even?”
“I can’t. I really can’t.”
Drew coughs back a laugh. “Which is why he will be forever known as Cheerio.”
I’m never looking at cereal the same way again. But I can’t help laughing too. Even if it’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard. So I don’t see them coming, though I should have expected it. One second, we’re all still chuckling, the next a swarm of girls descends on the table. I try to be charitable about my impression of them, but it isn’t working. Not when they nudge both me and Anna out of the way and drape themselves over every male at the table.
Two of them head for Gray. They sit on his lap, wrapping their arms around him. I find it hard to breathe, my skin suddenly hot and uncomfortably tight over my bones.
“Hey there, sexy,” Thing One says.
“We’ve missed seeing you around,” Thing Two adds, running her fingers through his hair.
Okay, I need to calm down. I glance at Anna, who looks ready to flip the table. Drew pulls a girl off him and sets her away. “I’m taken,” he tells the girl. “Very.”
She pouts but saunters off to join her friend on Diaz’s lap. Drew pulls Anna close, murmuring something in her ear that makes her smile and rest her head on his shoulder. Envy hits me, not of their love, but of Anna’s smile and obvious relief.
Across from me, Gray catches my eye, and I struggle to give him an amused look. As if I don’t care. I shouldn’t; I know this is part of his life, of who he is, and I need to see it, not live in denial. But maybe I fail at my charade because Gray winces, clearly embarrassed. And he edges back from their stroking hands.
“Ladies.” He forces a smile. “We’re kind of in the middle of a conversation.”
Everyone at the table seems to freeze for a millisecond, as if Gray’s statement has sent a shockwave over them. Then it’s back to the guys groping the women and looking far from interested in continuing any conversations.
As for his new friends, I have to give them credit; they’ve perfected the art of glaring with absolute disdain. A glare that’s focused on me. Both of them quickly turn their attention back to Gray.
“But me and Angie have a bet,” says the girl with a tramp stamp peeking out from her low-rise jeans. “We want to see which one of us you make come first.”
“Mmm,” Angie coos, pressing her breasts against Gray’s arm. “You were so good at getting me off. Alyssa wants a try. And I know you’d be game.”
And I’m done.
Beneath the table, a slim hand wraps around mine. I glance at Anna, both surprised and warmly comforted by her silent support. She gives my hand a squeeze but doesn’t look my way. Instead, she stands.
“Drew and I are headed out.”
Drew immediately rises, pulling out his wallet and tossing a few bills on the table.
Anna turns to me. “You want a ride, Ivy? Or—”
“A ride would be great, thanks.” I force another smile and make to grab my purse.
But Gray stands, upending the girls from his lap. Like cats, however, they manage to land on their feet. He ignores their yelps of protests. His blue gaze is serious and apologetic. “I said I’d take you home.”
That he’s being considerate has a small smile pulling at my lips, despite the growing tightness at the center of my chest. “That’s okay. You don’t need to leave.”
The scrutiny of his friends burns; I know they’re all watching, soaking in this little scene. It’s awkward, and I just want to go.
Angie rubs her hand up and down Gray’s arm. “Let her leave, Gray.” Her sly gaze travels slowly up my body, and her nose wrinkles. “She’s obviously big enough to take care of herself.”
Her friend snorts, making a false show of trying to hide it. “I think she’s part of the team, Ang.”
Nope, but I’m definitely big enough to squash you two like fucking bugs under my heel. I’m about to tell them as much when Gray glares at them. He catches hold of Angie’s wrist and moves her away from him.
“Yeah, I don’t think so. Not when you’ve insulted my friend.” He gives her another assessing look. “Not ever, in fact.”
Her mouth falls open, but he isn’t paying attention. Gray grabs his coat from the hook behind him and brushes past the two girls. Ignoring the looks of his friends, and the pouting protests of Thing One and Two, Gray takes my hand in his. “Come on, Mac, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
I don’t point out that we’re in a restaurant or that we devoured wings an hour ago, but let him lead me away.
* * *
As soon as we get home, I go to my room, put on my PJs, and scrub my face clean. I might like to dress up now and then, but I’d rather be comfortable. And it’s jus
t Gray with me now.
He’s heating up leftover white-bean soup when I return. Gray had brought the soup over earlier. It’s no secret that he loves cooking, and he’s really good at it. Apparently, his mom taught him, and he’d been the one to cook for his family when she was sick.
His big body moves with ease around the kitchen. He’s taken off his sweater, and his thin, ratty T-shirt drapes over his tightly toned torso like a caress. For a moment, I envy that shirt, the way it slides over his skin when he reaches for the bowls.
My gaze moves to his firm ass encased in old jeans. I’m pretty sure his butt should be cast in bronze and immortalized for posterity. Or maybe all of him. It’s like Thor’s landed in my kitchen and taken over late-night supper. Suppressing a snicker, I join him.
Gray turns, and his gaze slides over me. “Wonder Woman PJs. Excellent.”
“Just be glad I wore a bra.” I grab the spoons.
Gray halts mid-stride and utters a small groan. “Is there any chance you’d take your bra off now?” The tip of his tongue flicks out to touch his bottom lip. “Because that would so make my night, Special Sauce.”
His teasing shouldn’t send a pulse of heat between my legs. But it does. And I’m thankful that I’m wearing a bra now. Otherwise, I’m fairly certain my nipples would be saluting him.
We’re quiet as we eat. I don’t want to talk about what happened, but it’s all I can think about. Is this how my mom felt when she went out with Dad? Had she constantly had other women rubbed in her face? But that had been different. My mom and dad had been a couple. I’m just Gray’s friend. His buddy.
It’s a struggle to eat.
As for Gray, he looks equally downcast. I’m not sure why. He’s never hidden the fact that he likes to hook up. A lot. Am I getting in his way? I don’t want him to feel as though he has to babysit me. That would be too humiliating.
“You…” My hand clenches tight. “You didn’t have to take me home, you know. You could have gone home with those girls. I wouldn’t have been offended.”
I shove a spoonful of soup into my mouth to stop myself from taking it all back. But it’s too late. Gray’s eyes narrow, and his soft lips become flat and hard. He eyes me for an uncomfortable minute, one in which I inwardly curse my big mouth.
When he speaks, it’s low and deep. “Yeah, I know, Ivy.” His chair creaks as he leans forward, the irritated glint still in his eyes. “I wanted to hang out with you.”
Seems that’s all both of us want to do lately. Gray has quickly become my world, and it scares me a little. Because it’s becoming something I can’t control. I stab at my soup.
“It’s just…ah, well, the guys made it sound as though you kind of used to hook up every night.” And didn’t that make my stomach turn to lead. Which was all kinds of messed up. I certainly didn’t own Gray.
He makes a noise of annoyance. “The guys were exaggerating. And, what the hell? I didn’t want to go home with those chicks. It’s no big deal.”
His expression is mulish as he tucks back into his soup. I don’t know whether I want to smile or cringe. But I’ve upset him, which I don’t want.
“I don’t like how they talked about you,” Gray mutters.
Though my face flames, I shrug. “It’s not like I don’t hear similar comments. A lot.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“No.” I sigh. “But who are we kidding? I’m six feet tall. Growing up with my dad, or when I was around his clients, I never felt particularly tall. But there are days when I feel like a total oaf around other women.” Around guys too, but I’ve said enough. I’m too tender from tonight’s humiliation.
Gray glares at me. “You’re perfect. And hell, Mac, have you seen me? I’m a fucking tree.” He snorts. “I remember hitting my full height. Kept banging into everything. I really did feel like Gulliver around the Lilliputians. Sometimes I still do.”
“Yeah, but you lumber so gracefully.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Never let them see you sweat, right? And I’m serious, Mac. You’re perfect just the way you are. I love not having to throw my back out just trying to meet you at eye level. So no more crazy talk about letting me go home with a couple of jock riders who I didn’t even want touching me, anyway. Okay?”
“Okay, okay. Geesh.”
We both kind of glare and nod in agreement, slightly smiling at each other but still a bit awkward. And then we’re silent again.
“You should know,” I say slowly, because I can never seem to let anything go, “I’m fairly crap at expressing gratitude. I’m always saying the wrong thing.”
At this, Gray sets down his spoon and leans back in his chair before running a hand through his hair. The action has his biceps bunching. There’s a slight smile playing about his lips. “I kind of like that about you, Mac.”
I like everything about Gray. “All I meant was that I’m happy you’re here.”
He grins wide. “Me too.” But he pauses, his brows knitting. “And I don’t hook up with someone every night. To clarify.”
“Just every other night, then?” I tease.
His lips quirk on a reluctant smile. “Yeah, maybe.” Deep blue eyes stare at me. “And friends always come first.”
“Bros before hos?” I say, remembering Marshall’s line earlier.
Gray chuckles. “Something like that. Only my mom taught me never to call women whores.” His gaze lingers on my breasts just long enough that I feel it, then he catches my eyes. “And you’re definitely no bro.”
“Glad you noticed.”
“Hard not to notice, Mac.” He says it in a dry tone, but all I can see is that assessing, interested glance he gave me earlier, and it’s messing with my head, making my body too warm.
Frowning, I take a bite of soup to cover my disquiet.
Oblivious, Gray soldiers on. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before. So I’ll probably act like a douche now and then.” Color paints his cheeks pink. “I mean, a friend who’s a girl.”
“And a girlfriend?” I can’t help but ask. “You ever have one of those?”
“Nah. I’ve never had the inclination.”
“Never?” The word rings hollow in my chest. “That’s a tragedy. You’d make someone a great boyfriend.”
His cheeks darken, but he shakes his head as if I’m missing the point. “Pretty sure monogamy is a key factor in a relationship.”
My spoon clatters to the table. “You’d cheat?”
Gray frowns. “No. Never. But that’s kind of the point. I’ve never wanted to stay with just one girl, so why put myself in that situation?”
“I guess that makes sense.” The hollowness grows. Which is ridiculous. Gray’s an awesome friend, and that’s all I need.
“What about you?” he asks far too casually, as if this conversation has grown uncomfortable for him too, but he can no more stop than I can. “I’m guessing you’re pro-boyfriend.”
“That such a bad thing? I’m not into hookups.”
He flashes a quick, tight smile. “I can see you, Miss Monogamous, going through a string of boyfriends.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve had one boyfriend, smart ass. Senior year of high school.”
Gray’s brows lift. “One boyfriend? That’s it?”
“Yep.” I steal his beer and take a long sip. He watches me do it, amusement dancing in his eyes. It hits me anew, the way he makes me feel utterly at home, yet excited. Which is strange; we’re just sitting here, talking and eating. And all I want to do is drink in the sight of him, the way the corners of his mouth curve upward in a perpetual little smile, the strong cords of his neck, or how his evening beard dusts his jaw like raw sugar glinting in the lamplight. My tongue can almost imagine how it would feel to lick that stubble—rough, delicious.
Wait. What? No. There will be no licking of Gray’s jaw. As if he notices my sudden flush, he peers at me, inspecting my face. “What?” I ask in a sad attempt to escape my inappropriate thoughts.
“Nothing.” Gray gives the back of his neck a scratch, and I ignore his flexing muscles. “I just find it hard to believe you’ve been single all this time. You’re…well… You’re great.”
“Thanks, Cupcake,” I say in the face of his blush. It’s cute. And because he’s Gray, I feel comfortable enough to tell him the truth. “I’ve had guys interested. But it soon becomes apparent that they were just as interested in my dad, or rather, who he knew. It would always come up. Could I get them tickets to such-and-such sporting event? Did I know Peyton Manning? Or Eli? Was that really my dad in a picture with LeBron James? Had I met him? And when I answer yes, it’s all they can think about.” I shrug. “I know, I know, hard problems to have.”
“That’s not what I’m thinking,” Gray says softly, his expression somber. “I was thinking that those fuckers missed out.”
Again I shrug and pick at my food, unable to face Gray just then.
“So,” Gray says, “this high school boyfriend not into sports?”
“He was. But his father was a record producer so he had his share of fame.”
Gray’s brows rise and I feel the need to explain further. “We lived in Manhattan at the time. Life is kind of different there.”
“I bet.”
Not wanting to go on with my tired, poor-little-rich-girl tale, I hurry to finish it. “My boyfriend was fine. We hung out. He took my virginity. The act sucked enough that I didn’t ask for a repeat. I left for college. End of story.”
“Sounds awesome,” Gray deadpans.
I leave that one alone.
“No one in college or London, either?” Gray presses, looking shocked.
I resist the urge to toss my spoon. “I met guys, sure. But no one that I wanted to start a relationship with, okay?”
“Okay.” He says it as though he’s placating me. Which makes me want to snarl more. But I don’t.
So we eat. Until Gray starts shifting in his seat, getting antsy, his thumb tapping out an agitated rhythm on the table.
“What now?” I ask him.
Gray bites down on his lush bottom lip then blurts out, “If you’re not into hook ups, and you haven’t had a boyfriend in five years…”
The Friend Zone Page 9
