Going Under (The Blackhawk Boys Book 3)

by Lexi Ryan

  The hot tub is set in stone and elevated from the rest of the pool area, and Mia and I climb the steps behind Bailey. Bailey taps the button to turn it on and then takes a seat on the edge. I sit beside her, and Mia takes a seat beside me.

  The water is warm but not too hot, and the jets feel amazing on my calves. It feels so good that I wish I weren’t such a freak about showing my body. With the sun down and the temperature dropping, I can imagine how awesome it would feel to sit in the water and relax with a drink while talking to the girls.

  “So this will be your first semester in college?” Mia asks.

  I nod. “I don’t even have a major, though. I have no idea what I want to do.”

  “I thought you liked cars,” Bailey says.

  I shrug. “I do. If I had buckets of money, I’d have a bunch of them. But I’ve worked as a service technician for the last two years. I got my certifications and I know what that life is like. I don’t think it’s what I want to do forever.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Mia says. “Are you living with your parents or in the dorms?”

  “Neither, actually. My mom works for a man who’s going to be out of the country for the next nine months, and I’m going to live at his house and take care of his cats and pool and stuff until he returns.”

  “You’ll have a pool?” Bailey asks. “So maybe I don’t have to interrupt the lovebirds out here every time I want to swim?”

  I smile. “You’re welcome to come over, but they’re coming out to close the pool for the season at the end of September, so there’s not much time.”

  Mason heads over to us and sets a couple of glasses full of red slushy mixture on the edge of the hot tub. “Someone requested strawberry margaritas?”

  “You’re my hero!” Mia says, grabbing one.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  Bailey takes hers and winks at Mason. “You’re not so bad.”

  “How’s the water?” he asks.

  “So good.” I wiggle my toes under the surface.

  “Next time you’ll have to bring your suit,” Mia says.

  “You can bring your brother, too.” Bailey waggles her eyebrows, and Mason’s jaw goes hard.

  “Enjoy the margaritas,” he says before walking away.

  “Why do you do that to him?” Mia asks Bailey.

  I lower my gaze to my lap but keep my attention on their conversation. I’m curious about Bailey and Mason’s relationship and want to know more without asking.

  “I don’t know,” Bailey says. “He’s shutting me out, and I guess I’m just pissed that he’s decided to be all or nothing about our relationship.”

  Mia stares at her for a long, tense minute. She must decide to drop it, because she turns to me. “If you want to get in, I can go grab one of my suits for you.”

  I shake my head and turn to study all the people at this party. “I don’t wear swimsuits much. I’m pretty self-conscious.” Loosening my scarf, I casually wave toward my mouth and face and try to pretend it’s no big deal. I like Mia, and I like this group, and I want to get the awkward and inevitable explanations out of the way.

  “What happened?” Mia asks.

  “I was in a fire when I was seventeen.” The words alone are enough to make my chest tighten. I exhale slowly and circle my feet in the water to distract me from the horrible panic I feel talking about that night.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mia says. “That must have been so painful.”

  “I’m lucky, actually. It could have been much worse.” I skim my fingers over my neck and down to the top of my shirt. “My sister didn’t make it.”

  Bailey reaches over and squeezes my knee, and when I lift my eyes to hers, I see tears there.

  Mia gasps. “I remember that. Holy crap. You were the girl who ran into the burning house to save her sister.”

  I flinch. “Not real smart, huh?”

  “It was brave.” The sound of Sebastian’s voice makes my heart squeeze and grow bigger all at once. He climbs the steps and sits on the landing by the hot tub, looking at me. The sadness in his dark eyes slingshots me back in time to days I don’t like to think about. “Are you ready to head out?”

  I’m not. I want this night to last longer. I’m afraid tonight was a fluke and that the next time I see this group, I won’t fit in. But common sense tells me it’s time to go. Tomorrow I get settled at Mr. Patterson’s house, and the day after that is my first class at Blackhawk Hills University.

  I look to Bailey then Mia. “Thank you so much for tonight. You two are great.”

  Mia grins. “You’re welcome to come over anytime you want.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you on campus.” I turn to climb out of the hot tub.

  “You’re coming to the game next weekend, right?” Mia asks. “It’s the season kickoff, and it’s a home game. You’ve gotta come.”

  I look to Sebastian. “Um…”

  “It would be cool if you were there,” he says softly. “I’d like that.”

  Scoop. Another chunk of my heart gone. “I’d love to.”

  * * *

  Sebastian

  Alex is quiet on the drive home.

  I liked having her there tonight. Maybe I liked it too much. It was just so good to see her smile and laugh with the other girls. Fuck, it was more than that. It was good to have her close. Period.

  The guys gave me plenty of curious looks, and I know they’re wondering what she is to me. I’ve never brought a girl over to Arrow’s. I’ve never wanted to. Bringing Alex seemed significant, and maybe it was, but I’m glad they didn’t ask for details, because I didn’t feel up to giving the “we’re just friends” speech and having them call my bluff.

  The closest I came to having to explain was when we were cleaning up after dinner. Arrow pulled me aside. “If you and Alex want to hang out and drink, you can crash in the guestroom.”

  I exhaled heavily and shook my head. “Not tonight, man,” I said, but my imagination had already run away with the idea. Alex’s cheeks were flushed from wine, and it was too damn easy to imagine keeping her slightly buzzed and pulling her into bed with me at the end of the night, sliding that shirt off her shoulder and kissing my way down—

  “Your sister’s sweet,” Alex says, pulling me from my thoughts. “She did seem really tired, though. Is she okay?”

  I slow as I turn into her parents’ neighborhood and try to refocus my thoughts. “She’s pregnant, and it’s really wearing her out, but she’s okay.”

  “She’s pregnant?”

  “Yeah.” I grip the steering wheel and bite back the rant that rushes onto my tongue every time I think about my little sister being sexually active. And with my fucking teammates at that. Sure, she’s an adult, but she’s still my little sister. “She is. Trust me when I say I was horrified when I found out.” I was more than horrified. I was pissed and took it out on my quarterback, since Liv led me to believe he was the father.

  “Wow. Who’s the father?” She throws her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. Is that rude? I’m not trying to be rude. It’s just that tonight she gave me the impression that she’s single.”

  “She is. The dad’s named Keegan. He wasn’t there this time, but you’ll meet him. I have to give the guy credit. He’s trying his best to be there for her even when my sister’s done everything she can to push him away.”

  “She’s gotta be confused. I can’t imagine getting pregnant now, and I’m two years older than her. Her whole life is about to change.”

  “No kidding. She knows that, but at the same time I don’t think she has any concept of how different everything will be. Thanks for being nice to her. She had a rough start with that group, and she could use some friends.”

  “I wonder if the girls are planning on throwing her a shower. I’ll ask Bailey if I can help. That would be fun.”

  I pull up in front of her house and throw the truck into park. I wish I’d taken the long way home. I don’t want to let her go in yet. I want a few more
minutes to talk to her and watch the wine-flush of her cheeks. She’s so pretty it makes me itch to grab my camera, to capture the crystal-clear blue of her eyes and the pink in her cheeks, to put in print the evidence of how beautiful she is. “How do you know Bailey?”

  The question seems to catch her off guard, and she hesitates before answering. “She and I went to the same support group.”

  “Support group?”

  “For family members of addicts.” She bites her lip. “I hope she’d be okay with me telling you that.”

  “I didn’t know you went to a support group.”

  She nods. “Just that summer before…” She pulls her purse into her lap and toys with the strap. “I thought maybe I needed to meet other people going through the same thing so I could help her.” She shakes her head. “It didn’t make a difference, obviously, and when she came home from rehab, she wasn’t the same. It wasn’t just about addiction. Then she ran away, and I kept going to the support group because I needed it more than ever.”

  My throat goes thick with too much I’ve never said. “Your sister…”

  She swings around to look at me. “Can we not talk about her? I’ve had such a nice night. I don’t want to feel sad right now.”

  I don’t want you to feel sad either. Ever again. But that’s not the way life works. Not for anyone. And especially not for a girl who watched her sister die in a fire, not for a girl who almost died herself. “Let me walk you to your door.”

  She arches a brow. “Don’t you remember how that ended last night?”

  I clear my throat. “Good point.”

  She returns my smile, and the silence stretches between us—not tight and uncomfortable, but soft and easy.

  “I’ll see you at the shop this week?”

  “Yeah.” She looks up at me through her lashes, and those blue eyes tear right through me. “Thanks for tonight, Sebastian. It was a lot of fun.”

  She climbs out of the truck, and I watch her walk up the front steps. And the warmth in my chest from a great fucking night is met with the ache of wanting something I know I can’t have.

  * * *

  Martina’s Journal

  I met the cutest guy last night.

  It’s not every day in this town when I meet a guy who doesn’t bore me out of my mind. I mean, all the guys here are the same. They want to take you to the movies, maybe buy you dinner before they feel you up in the back seat of their car.

  That was fun for a while, but I’m ready to pull my hair out. Guys all have the same moves and the same lines.

  But this guy I met? His friends call him Crowe, and I met him at this college party just off campus. (And, yes, the girls at school think I’m crazy for going to college parties, but I think they’re crazy for settling for the boredom of high school parties, where the most interesting thing that happens is some bitch losing her virginity in someone’s parents’ king-size bed.)

  So, yeah, I prefer college parties. Nobody questions whether or not I should be there. I’ve always been able to pass for a little older than I am—one of the many reasons I’m glad God blessed me with great tits.

  So this guy, Crowe. He caught my eye. He knows how to look at a girl and make her feel alive. I finally got his attention—no easy task, since he was a little stoned and ambivalent to what was going down around him—but once I had it, he looked me over all the way from my head down to my toes, not missing an inch in between. His eyes lingered in this way that said he liked what he saw. It was the way a guy looks at a girl when he knows what to do with her.

  Anyway, he was there with this friend who lives in the house, and initially his friend was putting on the moves, and I think that’s why Crowe wouldn’t give me the time of day. But I can be pretty persuasive. We did snakebites with the salt, lime, and tequila. When I put the salt on my stomach for his shot, his tongue circled my navel before dipping under the waistband of my jeans. Before the end of the night, we were trashed and making out in the corner.

  I didn’t sleep with him. I thought about it, but we didn’t have an opportunity. He said he’d see me around, so maybe next time. If I see him again…

  Chapter Eight

  Sebastian

  “Women’s studies?” Mason says from behind me.

  I fold my schedule and shove it into my back pocket before turning to face him. The locker room bustles with the energy of the first day of classes. We’re all ready to get back to it, because back to class means that our first game is coming, and after a summer of beating each other up on the field, we’re more than ready to pound an opposing team. “Do you make a habit of reading over people’s shoulders?”

  “Women’s studies at nine with Scheck?” Keegan asks.

  “Yeah.” Why are these guys suddenly so interested in my schedule? Jesus. I don’t want to take the fucking class, but it fulfills my multicultural elective, and I’m trying to stay on track to graduate on time—not an easy task as a transfer student.

  “Me too,” Keegan says with an approving nod in my direction. He finishes tying his shoes before pointing at me. “Great way to pick up chicks.”

  “That is not why I’m taking the class, and it had better not be why you’re fucking taking it.”

  Keegan just grins. He has a baby-daddy thing going on with my sister, but his days of being scared that I’ll kick his ass are behind us. Mostly because Olivia handled the whole pregnancy thing terribly, trying to convince everyone that the baby was Chris’s before she revealed the truth. “If you’re wondering when I’m going to make an honest woman of your sister, you need to ask her that.”

  I sigh. I’m well aware of how ridiculous Olivia is being about this whole situation, and honestly, I feel for Keegan. “Just take it easy on the whole ‘picking up chicks’ thing until my niece or nephew is born, okay?”

  “It’s an elective.” Keegan punches me in the arm.

  “Picking up chicks is an elective?” Mason asks. “I thought it was your major.”

  “Women’s studies is an elective, asshole,” Keegan says with a grin. “Maybe it was once my major, but I’ve changed my ways.”

  “It’s an elective for me too,” I say. “The multicultural contemporary art class I was supposed to take at the same time was canceled for low enrollment.”

  Keegan slings his backpack over his shoulder. “I heard that Scheck gives an easy A to any guy who calls himself a feminist on the first day.”

  Mason arches a brow at Keegan. “You’re a feminist? You?”

  Keegan puts his hand on his heart. “Women are very important to me, from their pretty heads to their toes to everything in between.”

  “Women’s rights, not their parts, idiot,” I mutter. I grab my bag and head for the door.

  Mason follows me. “So, your friend’s nice. Quiet but sweet. She and Bailey sure are close.”

  It takes me a minute to figure out who he’s talking about—not because Alex isn’t on my mind all the fucking time, but because as special as she is to me, I spent the whole morning and all of last night thinking of her in every way except friend. “She and Bailey knew each other in high school, I guess.”

  “Yeah. They’re going shopping later or something.”

  This surprises me. I don’t know why. Bailey is nice enough, but she’s kind of over the top, which is exactly the opposite of Alex. Bailey can be loud and brash and…

  And a whole lot like Martina.

  “So you and Alex?” Mason asks.

  “Friends,” I say, contradicting my own thought from minutes before.

  “Mm-hmm,” Mason says. He’s not buying it, but it’ll be clear soon enough. If Alex were mine, I wouldn’t hide it. Hell, I’d keep her so close, no one would have to ask what we were to each other. “You enjoy that women’s studies class. I’ll see you at practice tonight.”

  * * *

  Alexandra

  “Welcome to Introduction to Women’s Studies,” the woman at the front of the class says. “My name is Dr. Scheck, and I’ll be
your guide through this course.” She surveys the class, and I like her already. Her loose, silky top and scarf are paired with skinny jeans and heels, and she has an easy smile. “As this is an introductory class,” she says, “you’ll find that the course requirements aren’t terribly stringent. Above all else, I want you to keep an open mind to the concepts we’ll cover over the semester, show up to class regularly and on time, and participate in the discussion. I’ll admit I have a bit of a pet peeve about tardiness, and being punctual is the best way to stay on my good side.”

  As if on cue, the door at the front of the room opens to a duo of tardy students.

  I’d like to pretend that I’m mature and enlightened enough that I wouldn’t be surprised to see anyone walk into an introductory women’s studies seminar. But apparently I’m neither enlightened nor mature, because when I see Sebastian come through the doorway with one of his too-broad-for-his-T-shirt football buddies in tow, I burst into a giggle-snort that comes out way louder than I expect, and Dr. Scheck levels her stern gaze on me before turning to the guys.

  “I was just telling the class how important punctuality is to me,” she says.

  “I apologize,” Sebastian says. He exchanges a glance with his buddy. “We were looking at the room on Keegan’s schedule and didn’t realize it had been changed.”

  “I’m a feminist,” the other guy—Keegan—announces, flashing a grin that is so charming I can feel its full wattage three rows back.

  Dr. Scheck arches a brow. “Good to know.” She motions to the empty chairs on either side of the aisle, and one is next to mine. “We saved you seats, gentlemen.”

  Sebastian spots me on his way to the seats, and when Keegan turns to take the desk beside me, Sebastian puts a hand on his shoulder and turns him toward the opposite side of the aisle. Keegan looks from me to Sebastian, and his eyes go wide in understanding—though of what, I’m not sure.