Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2) (10 page)

Chapter Seven

Sam

“So what’d you and Violet end up doing last night?”

Roan gives me a little shove before waggling his dark eyebrows like the immature asshole that he is.  If I was hoping the whole Violet-spending-the weekend-at-our-place would go unmentioned, yeah… not going to happen.

“And I’m guessing it wasn’t each other either since you were both sacked out in separate bedrooms by the time I made it home.”

Pulling out his pads, Dylan smirks before sitting his ass down on the wooden bench to start getting ready.  Game time is set for noon.  We’re playing Akron today.  And it’s another big one.

What the hell am I saying?

At this point in the season, they’re all freaking big.  We’re gunning for another championship and bowl game this year.  With it being my senior year, you bet your damn ass I want to go all the way.  Some of these guys will be playing for Barnett next year or entering the NFL draft come January.  They’re football careers will continue, but this is it for me.  After this season, I’m done.  So I need to give it my all.  Every damn thing I’ve got.

You’d think these two would have their earbuds in, cranking some tunes, getting into the zone, gearing up to kick a little ass today.

Nah.

Why would they want to do that when they can spend a little time busting my balls?

Dylan eyes me.  “Still no movement on that front, huh?”

Lowering my brows, I give them a silent glare.  I’m hoping they’ll consider that answer enough.  Clearly the Violet situation isn’t something I want to discuss.

Especially with their damn asses.

Unfortunately he continues, “Hey, I’ve got an idea- why don’t you just stop being such a freaking pussy and put it out there already?”

Great.

More unsolicited advice.

That’s exactly what I need right now.

Hauling my shit out of my locker, I spend a few minutes taping up my wrist because it’s been bothering me lately.  But not enough to stop playing.  Hell, the damn thing could be falling off my arm and I’d still be out there.

“Dude, you need to face facts, you’ve been friend zoned.”  Dylan shakes his head all sad-like.  “And once that happens, there’s no coming back from it.  It’s all but impossible to move back into the-
I’d-like-to-fuck-you
zone.”  He flashes me his version of a shit eating grin.  “Not that I would know anything about what you’re going through.”

Rarely do I listen to the bullshit that spews from Dylan’s mouth, but this time, I think he just might be onto something.  That being said, there is no freaking way I’m going to mention that Violet is now trying to set me up with other chicks.  These two would have a freaking field day with that.  Christ… I almost fell off the couch last night when she told me that she’d given my number to some random girl.

I mean…
really
?

She’s seriously trolling around on my behalf?  Has it gotten so bad, that me getting laid is now a group effort?

Unbelievable.

The situation between us is so much worse than I ever suspected.  Because in my experience, when you’re into someone, even a little bit, you don’t go around trying to fix them up.

Grinding my back molars together, I don’t say one damn word.  At this point, I just need to evict Violet from my head and focus on kicking Akron’s ass today.  Because that, at least, I can control.

To some extent.

“Your name might as well be
Samantha
for all that girl notices.  Does she even know you have a penis, albeit a teeny tiny one, dangling between your legs?”

My glare becomes even more ferocious.

Tiny dick, my ass.

But you know what?

I have no idea if she knows or not.

Once in a while it’ll feel like there’s a flash of heat between us but it’s certainly not enough for me to act on.  I don’t want to totally hang myself out there unless I’m reasonably sure she feels the same way.  Otherwise opening myself up like that could turn out to be nothing more than a suicide mission.

And I’m no kamikaze pilot.

Not where Violet’s concerned.

Unable to stop myself, I hear the words tumbling from my lips before I can shove them back inside. “And what exactly would you do if you were in my situation?”

Roan folds his arms over his chest as a little smirk settles across his face.  “I wouldn’t know anything about that, dude, I’ve never been friend zoned before.  Most chicks can’t wait to jump my bones.”

Yeah… the bastard is right about that one.

Arching a brow, I remind him, “That’s funny, because I don’t seem to recall Ivy wanting to jump right into bed with you.”

The smirk turns into more of a slow grin that tilts his lips upward.  “Nope. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

I shake my head because I never thought I’d see the day when Roan King settled his ass down with one chick and yet, that’s exactly what’s happened.  Even though they’re separated right now, it’s completely obvious that Roan is in love with Ivy.

The sad thing is- that’s
exactly
what I want.  A relationship.  I’m tired of being out there on my own.  Tired of the hook ups.  And the groupies that are always hanging around.  Sometimes you can’t tell who likes you for you and who’s in it for the status you bring to the table.  Some of the guys get off on it.  They don’t give a shit about why someone wants to screw them.  They’re just happy to soak up all the attention and adoration.

But that’s not me.

It’s never been me.

And the fact that I want one specific girl doesn’t help matters either.  I’ve tried forgetting about her, putting her out of my mind, moving on.  It’s not like I haven’t dated other women.  I have.  But no matter who I’m with, I just can’t resist comparing them to her.  And once that happens, it’s all downhill from there.

Like a freaking bullet train.

Then things are ending and I’m back to being alone again, pining for someone who is completely oblivious to my need.

As much as I hate to admit it, Violet was spot on in regards to what she said last night.  I hadn’t realized that I’m constantly hooking up with girls who look exactly like her.

That’s pretty messed up.

And it’s not helping matters either.  Because none of these girls will ever be Violet Winterfield.  It’s like I’m constantly setting myself up for failure right from the get go.  These girls are nothing more than a paper thin version of the one I really want.

Seriously, how freaking pathetic is that?

Yeah, that was more of a rhetorical question…

I unfortunately know the answer.

“Why don’t you just nut up and tell her how you feel.  Let the cards fall where they will.”  Before I can even open my mouth, Dylan tacks on, “Don’t get me wrong, I like Violet.  She’s a cool chick.  But exactly how much longer are you going to wait around for her to get with the program?  Enough is enough, man.  It’s time to shit or get off the pot.”

As ineloquent as his words are…

I can’t exactly disagree with them, now can I?  Maybe I just need to tell her how I feel.  Whatever happens, at least I’ll have an answer.  Maybe then I can finally move on instead of being stuck here in no-man’s land.

With all of his sage advice churning in my head, my eyes finally settle on Dylan.  Sucking in a deep breath, I finally admit, “I think you’re right.”

He looks surprised by my words.  “I am?”

As painful as it is, I slowly nod my head.  “Yup, in a rather shocking turn of events, what you’ve just said makes perfect sense.”

Tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrow.  “It’s not really all that shocking.”

Roan shakes his head.  “No, dude, it’s
completely
shocking.”  He starts rooting around in his locker.  “In fact, I need to write this down so I don’t forget.”

Dylan slams his locker shut before glaring at the pair of us. “You guys are assholes.”

Chapter Eight

Around nine o’clock that night we all head out to O’Brien’s.  It’s a little dive bar a few blocks from campus where a lot of college students hang out.  Well, the ones who are twenty-one or, at the very least, have a decent fake hang there.  The rest stick to campus and the inevitable victory parties that will be taking place up and down Greek row.  It seems like all of Barnett has turned out to help celebrate.  Even if you’re not a football fan, it’s as good as any excuse to get together with friends and have a few drinks.

I’m happy for the guys, happy their last year playing together is turning out to be a season for the record books, one they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.  Hell, I think everyone at Barnett will remember it.

Sam is a first string left tackle.  It’s his job is to protect the QB’s blindside on passing plays and counter-act the pass rush of defensive ends.  The only reason I know that is because I’ve spent more than my fair share of time with my ass in the bleachers, hollering at the top of my lungs, cheering him on. And today, Sam totally did his job.  Akron never got close to touching Liam Garrison.

Last year, Sam gave some serious consideration to whether or not he wanted to enter the NFL draft.  Unfortunately, he ended up hurting his wrist junior year.  Even though he still plays through the pain, I know that has a lot to do with him not looking to continue with the sport he loves. So, he’s focused on law school and pursuing a career in politics.

Once this season is over, Sam’s football career will be over with it.

I’m sure graduating this spring will be bittersweet for him.  He’s been playing ball with these guys for the last four years and some of them will be entering the NFL draft come January.  Like Roan King.  It’s all but a certainty that he’ll get snapped up by a team.

I’m not sure what Dylan is doing yet.  Like Sam, he’s suffered from a few injuries over the years as well.  I know he wants to play professionally, but there hasn’t been as much interest surrounding him as there has for Roan and Liam.  Although Liam is only a junior, I’ve heard that he’s going to stick around and play next year even though he could technically enter the upcoming draft.

As we push through the doors, the bar is already jammed packed.  The lights are low and the music is all but vibrating off the walls.  In the back of the bar, I see a few tables have been pushed together and some of their teammates are sitting around enjoying a beer.  As usual, there are a ton of scantily clad girls hovering around the guys.

Ugh.

Jersey chasers…

There never seems to be a shortage of them vying for male attention.

Finding open seats, we plunk ourselves down.  Sam is to my left and-

“Hey Violet, how you doing?”

I smile at Liam Garrison, the Barnett Bulldog’s first string QB.  Even though he’s only a junior, he’s super talented.  I just know he’ll end up playing in the NFL once his college career is finished.  And he definitely has his fair share of admirers.  Even though it’s still early, they’re already buzzing around him, trying to secure his attention for the evening.  Instead of checking out all the available talent, his gunmetal gray eyes lock on mine.

“I’m good.  Congrats on the win today.  That was an awesome forty yard pass to Roan in the third quarter.”

“Thanks.”  He grins, flashing beautiful white teeth.  “I knew there was some good luck coming from the stands today.”

If I haven’t already mentioned it, Liam Garrison is absolutely gorgeous.  In a completely dangerous kind of way.  He looks more like a rock star than a clean cut athlete.  He’s got short mahogany colored hair.  It’s shaved close on the sides and spiked up on top, styled in a fauxhawk.  Tattoo sleeves run down the length of both muscular arms.  There’s also colorful ink peeking out from beneath the collar of the black Bulldog t-shirt he’s sporting.

Am I curious as to just how much of his body is covered in ink?

Yup, I kind of am... And I’m certainly not alone in that curiosity either.

He’s definitely the bad boy of Barnett football.

And the girls go freaking wild for him.

Out of all the football players on the Bulldogs, Liam and Roan are showered with the most female attention.  Although, now that Roan is officially off the market, Liam seems overrun with women.

I roll my eyes.  “Oh please, you don’t need luck, you’ve got talent.”  Tons of it.  He has an amazing arm on him.

Liam gives me a little wink.  “I love a girl who knows what she’s talking about.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I shake my head.  I’ve known Liam since he was a freshman rookie player.  He’s always been a terrible flirt.  Sliding an arm across the back of my chair, Sam leans around me before giving Liam a silent chin lift in greeting.  Liam’s gleaming smile widens right before he hoists a brown bottle of beer to his full lips, taking a long slow swallow.

The waitress, already looking harassed by the thick crowd, stops by to take our order.  I suppose not having to fight your way to the bar for a drink is one of the perks to being with a table full of hot college athletes.