Those Nights in Montreal

by Beverley Kendall

  “Scott—”

  Before I have time to fully form what I plan to say, he’s pressing a path through the crowd and steering me into the hall. It’s only slightly less noisy here, but the place isn’t as crowded.

  “What do you want?” I snap, jerking my hand from his grasp and folding my arms across my chest. I’m glad he can’t hear how hard my heart is pumping but can see the grim set of my mouth and how my eyes are narrowed as I glare up at him.

  “Look, I saw you talking to Cam and take it from me, you don’t want to go there.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. Like I’m going to take guy advice from him? In whose world? “You have a lot of nerve. Do you actually think I’d ever take advice from you about a guy?”

  His voice becomes coaxing. “Becca, don’t be like this.”

  An involuntary shiver chases up and down my spine at the gravelly deepness of it. I try to shake it off like an unwanted rash.

  “Do me a favor, Scott, stay out of my life.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  SCOTT

  I watch as my ex turns on her heels and storms away. My hand squeezes around the neck of my bottle. She’d always been stubborn and I see that hasn’t changed. I shake my head, wondering why I want her back. She’s the one who broke up with me. Me. And then proceeded to treat me like I’d been the one who dumped her. If anyone should be mad, it should be me.

  I continue to watch her and the next thing I know “Cam the man” (as he’s frequently called), a guy who’s basically slept his way through the entire senior and junior class and now appears to be starting on the sophomores, is pressing a can of beer into her hand. Before taking it, she glances over at me. I don’t look away. Smiling, she accepts it and allows him to rest his hand on the small of her back. Normally, I’m not a jealous guy, but his hand on her is pissing me the fuck off.

  Gritting my teeth, I stuff one hand in my pocket and polish off the rest of my beer. As I’m not having any fun, I should leave but I know I won’t, not while Becca’s still here.

  I’m glancing around to find somewhere to get rid of my empty bottle when I run into Olivia. Not literally but close enough. She’s not alone, her boyfriend Zach is attached to her waist. No joke. A smile of pleasure tips the corners of her mouth. I try to ignore her boyfriend’s less-than-friendly stare.

  “Hey, Scott,” she says, her voice sly and knowing.

  “Hey, Olivia.” I tip my chin toward Zach. “Hey man.”

  He acknowledges me with a brief nod. I’m actually surprised he managed that.

  “Rebecca’s here.” She looks positively triumphant about that.

  “Yeah, thanks. I saw her.”

  For some reason Olivia’s sympathetic to my cause in trying to win Becca back and agreed to do or say whatever was needed to make sure Becca made an appearance tonight. All the good it did me. But it’s still early so who knows.

  “I saw you guys talking.” Her statement has one of those cliff-hanger endings making it clear she expects me to fill in the rest.

  I shrug and let out a self-deprecating laugh because there’s really not much to say. “I was talking. She was telling me to get lost.”

  A frown furrows her brow as she glances up at her boyfriend. He cocks an eyebrow in response. Something unspoken passes between them, before they return their attention to me.

  Hell if I know what they expect me to say.

  “Can I ask you something, Scott?” she asks after a slightly awkward silence—if such a thing as silence is possible with the level of noise around us.

  I don’t know, can you? I flick a meaningful glance at her boyfriend.

  “Oh you don’t have to worry about Zach. He’s cool with us being friends, right Zach?”

  Zach doesn’t answer, just narrows his eyes at me. Yeah, I can feel the fuckin’ love. The guy can seriously hold a grudge. I came on to Olivia one time. It hadn’t even been a serious come-on. And they hadn’t even been going out at the time—or at least that’s what she’d said. But from that point on he’d treated me like enemy number one. As far as I’m concerned, the guy’s a tool.

  The problem is his girlfriend and my ex are roommates and best friends. If I’m going to get Rebecca back, I’m going to have to deal with him on some level or another. Which means, I’m going to have to try to get along with him. Which also tells you how much I want her back.

  “Yeah, well tell that to the vein protruding from his temple,” I say dryly. It’s a joke for fuck’s sake and the guy doesn’t crack a smile. At least Olivia has a sense of humor because it sets her giggling her head off. Her boyfriend seriously needs to lighten up.

  “Oh come on, hon, Scott has absolutely no interest in me, do you? He’s trying to get back with Rebecca. I told you that.”

  It’s not like it’s a secret but the guy hates me so…I don’t know. I feel weird that she’s talking to him about me and Becca. Although judging by the expression on his face, he needs the confirmation before he’ll stop eyeballing me as if he’d like to rip my throat out. His problem is, because he’s crazy about her, he can’t imagine how other guys can’t be. Especially a guy who once showed an interest.

  Shit, I get that. I do. But that was last year. Get over it.

  “As gorgeous as you are, you know the deal,” I say with a wry smile, trying to make light of it.

  With his hand resting possessively on his girlfriend’s waist, Zach continues to watch me. I’m not one to shy away from anything so I go toe-to-toe with him and shift into stare-down mode. Let’s get this over and done with. I’m tired as hell of being on the receiving end of his death glares whenever we happen to cross paths. It may be a pretty big school but it’s a small world.

  “Rebecca’s going to be a tough nut to crack,” he muses, breaking the silence, a faint smile creeping across his face.

  For a second, I can’t believe it’s directed at me. The guy’s a stone where I’m concerned. But no, there it is. I lower my defenses a little. I’m not sure he’s not setting me up for some major set down. Probably happy as shit thinking I won’t be able to “crack” her.

  “Then you know Becca better than I thought,” I joke easily.

  Olivia’s face is flushed with pleasure. I see her give his waist an approving squeeze as she flashes a blinding smile up at him. Now a full-throttled smile takes over his face and he drops a kiss on her mouth. I’m not sure why, but I look away. Maybe too much PDA for my tastes, I’m not sure. Or maybe it’s because it’s been a while since I’ve been part of a “couple”. Well, since Becca.

  We talk for another couple minutes, me well aware that in the other room Cam is making the moves on my ex. They’re in my line of sight and every once in a while, I’ll catch her looking my way.

  After Olivia and her boyfriend and I part company, Mindy, one of my one-date-only mistakes, tries to get me to ditch the party for a more happening one in town. When I refuse, she hangs around for a bit trying to change my mind. The promise of sex with girls I could care less about doesn’t have the appeal it once used to. No sooner after Mindy finally gives up and leaves am I accosted by two sorority girls who seem to be making the rounds. I’m sure if I were into threesomes, I would’ve been set for the night but stuff like that is better in theory than in practice. This I know firsthand.

  It’s nearly fifteen minutes later before I realize I’ve lost track of my ex. And Becca, to put it bluntly, is a cheap drunk. The last time I saw her Cam had been plying her with more beer.

  I hastily scan the room. The place is littered to high heaven with beer cans, empty vodka and rum bottles. Half the crowd isn’t walking or standing, they’re weaving and swaying, drunk off their asses. Becca is nowhere in sight.

  “Hey, Scott. What’cha doing?”

  Jennifer. I ignore the slurred invitation in her voice knowing I’m not the only guy she’s made it to tonight. I push off the wall and head out to the hall, where my clearly intoxicated ex is being supported by Senior Douchebag, one arm draped over his shoulder,
his arm around her waist as they stumble, laughing out the front door.

  Fuck. She’s not making this easy.

  Without giving it a second thought, I take off after them.

  Once outside, I see them at the rear of a blue Mustang, Cam holding tight to Becca with one hand, while searching his jean pockets with the other. A second later, I hear the jangle of keys.

  “Becca!”

  They turn in the direction of my voice and I quickly close the distance between us. I don’t want to have to pry her out of the guy’s car but I will if I have to.

  I may not know Cam personally and I’m probably the last person to judge a guy based on his reputation but all that PC bullshit goes out the window when it involves Becca. This isn’t her. She doesn’t get stinking drunk and go home with guys. I don’t know what the hell is going on inside her head, but she’s going to thank me for this…later. Tonight, I may have a fight on my hands.

  Cam stares at me, brows furrowed as if asking, Who the fuck are you? I don’t say a word—like I owe him an explanation—I just grab my ex by the hand and tug her to my side. She gives a start as her body collides with mine. Blinking, she stares up at me wide-eyed but her movements are slow, hampered by all the alcohol she’s consumed.

  “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?” Cam protests, making a desperate grab for her arm. I instantly position my body so that in order to get to her, he’ll have to physically go through me.

  “I’m taking her home,” I say. “She’s drunk. Go find someone else. Some girl who knows what the fuck she’s doing because it’s obvious she doesn’t.”

  “Scott.” Her tone is indignant but she’s so drunk, she slurs my name and it comes out sounding like scotch. “You’re not taking me home. Cam sa-sesh he would.”

  “You heard her. I’m taking her home.”

  With my fingers still clamped around her arm, I turn toward my car. But Becca is teetering on her heels so much I’m afraid she’s going to fall. So I wrap my arm around her waist, taking most of her weight as I try to hustle her to the car.

  That’s when I feel the blow to my back near my shoulder. It’s a solid hit that lands with a dull thud. It hurts like a mother, the pain reverberating down my spine. The blow pushes me forward a couple feet and sends an already swaying Becca to the ground. I hear her pained gasp as her hands go out to break her fall.

  Seething with anger, I just react. My right arm is already swinging when I spin around. I make sure to keep my head low. He does exactly what I anticipate he’ll do, which is to take a swing at my head. His hands whizzes through the air and I nail him in the gut. He staggers back emitting a pained grunt but manages to stay on his feet.

  “Hey Cam, you need some help man?”

  A quick glance behind me reveals Becca pulling herself to her feet. However, in front of me and flanking Cam are two more guys.

  Taller and bigger than him.

  Shit. Taller and bigger than me.

  I’m not sure which one offered the help but it’s clear both are ready for a fight. Cam I could probably have taken no problem but three of them…?

  Fuck, I’m toast.

  Glancing around I notice a crowd growing at the front door and hear the excited whispers that there’s a fight going down.

  His mouth curled in anger, Cam gestures toward me. “Yeah, this asshole—“ The words are barely out of his mouth when the guy on the left comes at me swinging. I dodge my head to the side and his fist grazes my left cheek. My punch glances off his chin.

  Behind me, I hear Becca’s choked and horrified, “Scott.”

  Soon I expect Cam and the other guy to jump in. Before the guy can pull his arm back to take another shot at me, Zach appears out of nowhere, stepping in front of me. He shoves the guy hard in the chest. And I mean hard. Startled, the guy staggers back and his friend, who’d been advancing toward me, stops.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Mulroney? You wanna get fuckin’ kicked off the team?” A super pissed off Zach looks over at the other guy. “You too, Nichols. For crissakes, use your fuckin’ brains.”

  Fists clenched, every muscle in my body is tense and ready for action as I watch the scene playing out in front of me. Shocked doesn’t even come close to describing what I’m feeling right now. Olivia’s boyfriend is defending me. If I wasn’t witnessing it myself, I would never have believed it.

  Confused, Mulroney’s gaze darts between me and Zach before settling on Zach. “What, do you like know this guy, Pearson?”

  “Yeah I know him. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you guys go three-on-one with him. You want a fight? I’ll have my brother send three of his defensive ends.”

  Holy shit, he’s pulling out the big guns. Zach Pearson is known for not throwing his brother’s weight around. Although practically everyone who knows anything about football, knows his brother’s the starting quarterback for the Cowboys.

  Mulroney and Nichols scowl. Cam just looks pissed. He’d have loved to see me get my ass whooped. Well fuck him.

  I’m not sure if it was the threat about the defensive ends or the fact that Zach’s the quarterback of their team that does the trick, but it’s like the testosterone level outside drops back down to post-caveman levels. When it becomes clear there won’t be any blood spilled tonight—my blood—the bloodthirsty onlookers grumble their disappointment and go back to what they were doing. Which means getting shitfaced.

  I turn and instantly reach for Becca. She’s shivering but it’s still warm for fall in upstate New York so I know it’s not from the cold. She doesn’t resist when I take her hands in mine and examine her scraped palms. I’m relieved to see that they don’t look as bad as I thought they would.

  “We’ll get this cleaned up when I take you home,” I murmur.

  “Rebecca, you okay?”

  I turn back to a concerned Zach just in time to see the taillights of Cam’s Mustang as he speeds away. Good riddance.

  “I’m okay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

  “Look, thanks for that,” I say. The guy saved my ass. I owe him big time.

  “Naw man, it’s nothing. Those guys are…well let’s just say I’m not sure which they love more, being defensive tackles or fighting. Or maybe it’s one and the same to them,” he says shaking his head in wonder.

  His expression instantly becomes serious when he shifts his attention to Becca. “Olivia asked me to make sure you were okay. She saw you leave with what’s his face.”

  Becca’s gaze flicks up to mine and then to Zach.

  “Tell Olivia I’m going to take her home.” I say just as Becca opens her mouth to respond.

  Zach watches her intently for a couple seconds before giving a firm nod. “Okay, I’ll tell Liv.”

  While he heads back to the party, I get us to my car, open the door and bundle a curiously amenable Becca into the passenger seat. For a second she looks up at me, her eyes halfway closed, her scraped palms cradled on her lap. “Scott.”

  That’s it. Just my name. Not spoken in anger or indifference.

  There was a point tonight when I would have gladly wrung her neck. But looking into her heavy-lidded blue eyes and taking in her forlorn expression, the anger I’d felt drains from me.

  I draw in a deep calming breath and expel it slowly. “I’m taking you home.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  REBECCA

  I’m not at my best waking up with a hangover. Who is? No one I know. I remain absolutely still and pry my right eye open. There’s a dull throb at my temple. Not completely horrible and not so much that I won’t attempt to force open the other eye.

  My room is still gloriously dark save faint strains of autumn light filtering through the thick curtains covering the double windows facing east.

  Last night’s events come back to me in a flood of shameful memories. I slam both eyes shut. Ow, that hurts, and my palms sting. It’s at that moment I become aware of the hand on my waist and the all-encompassing heat at my back.

&n
bsp; The kind of heat only another body can generate.

  Before I can react, an achingly familiar scent assails my nostrils and a large male hand flattens against my stomach keeping my back pressed against his chest, rendering me momentarily motionless and breathless.

  “You’re awake.” Scratchy with sleep and deep enough to start my heart fluttering, it’s the voice that’s haunted my dreams. And tortured plenty of my waking moments too.

  Scott.

  A part of me relaxes at the same time an unmistakable tension enters my body. I slept with Scott for almost a year so I’m quite familiar with that tension. Headache and the heartbreak of the past are forgotten in that moment. Heat pools between my thighs and the dull throbbing is now centered there.

  He could always do this to me if I let him get close enough. Make my body ache, make me want him like he’s a drug and I’m addicted. As if sensing the war my body is fighting with my mind, his hand drifts lower until it’s splayed over my lower stomach, his finger dancing just above the top of my lace-edged thong.

  At the light touch of his fingers just there, I’m returned to reality.

  Whoa. What the hell is he doing in my bed?

  It’s not easy—I haven’t had sex in over a year—but I forsake the pleasurable warmth of his touch, roll abruptly away and almost end up on the floor. His hand hooks around my waist before I can fall. With a semblance of my sanity and balance regained, I scramble to a kneeling position before clumsily sliding off the edge of the bed. Now I’m standing in one of my long white t-shirts that I don’t remember putting on.

  Scott on the other hand is wearing a wife-beater that showcases his muscled chest and arms. He also has his customary morning erection. My sex contracts as I hastily avert my eyes from the sight of it tenting his navy boxer briefs. “What are you doing in my bed?” If I thought his voice was scratchy, mine sounds and feels like a well-used Brillo Pad courtesy of second-hand smoke and alcohol.