Still, the self-doubt won’t get me down tonight, not when I spot Cass sitting at a long table with a group of guys. I recognize most from her fantasy team and know she’s not sleeping with any of them.
Still, for some reason, I feel possessive of her and have a need to touch her and prove to these assholes that I mean more to her than all of them put together. Has she ever kissed any of them the way she kissed me? I highly doubt it.
When I walk up behind Cass, I wrap my hand around her ponytail and give it a tug backwards.
Cass gasps and then she sees me. “Hey, you made it!” she says with a smile. “How was training?”
“Good, really good,” I say when I kiss her cheek and then take the seat next to her.
“That’s…” she pauses.
“All we have to do now is wait for someone to bite and pick a date.” That’s right, it’s we, because I know Cass is behind me one-hundred percent on this.
“That’s great, Xavier,” Cass replies.
“I got our beers,” a deep voice says from behind me. When I glance over my shoulder, I see an enormous dude with veins bulging all over the place just from holding two glasses of beer, one of which he offers to Cass. I don’t remember seeing this giant at her house for the fantasy draft party. And it’s crazy, but with his dark eyes, black hair and tan complexion, he looks like he could be my brother…on a boatload of steroids.
“Um, Xavier, this is Eddie,” Cass informs me when she takes one of the glasses from his meaty hands. Eddie? Where have I heard that name before.
“Xavier, huh? Nice to meet you, even if you are in my seat,” the man says.
“Here, you can have mine,” Cass tells him before she stands up and steps aside. “I’ll just go find another chair,” she says while glancing around the packed bar.
“Here,” the big guy says. After he lowers his glass of beer to the table, he grabs Cass around the waist like he has some kind of right to touch her and then plops her down on his lap, causing her glass of beer to nearly slosh over the rim.
What the fuck?
“Plenty of room on me,” Eddie says.
Hold up. Didn’t Cass mention that one of her fuck buddies was named Eddie? Motherfucker. She’s screwing this big oaf. And my first thought is that, logistically, Cass must always have to be on top or he would crush her, and the second is she’s sleeping with him!
“Are you on her fantasy team too?” Eddie asks me around Cass, who he’s holding to his body with a tight grip around her waist. The difference in their sizes is immense. He looks like a ventriloquist and she’s his dummy. No, I’m pretty sure that I’m the dummy because I thought Cass was coming on to me the other night because she’s in love with me; and apparently, she’s just “playing the field” and sleeping with several guys. I really fucking hate that. And I’m pretty sure the hate is a visible emotion on my face right now.
“I’m not on Cass’s fantasy team. I’m her best friend,” I inform him.
“Huh,” he responds. “She’s never mentioned you before.”
“She didn’t?” I say while watching Cass’s face as she guzzles her beer and avoids my eyes. “Guess you two haven’t known each other long.”
“Several weeks,” the meathead says.
“Ah, okay. See, Cass and I have been friends for twenty years.”
“Wow, that’s a long time,” Eddie says.
“It is. You really get to know a person after two decades. Like, for instance, did you know that Cass is a lightweight?”
“No. We’ve only shared a few beers together at dinner,” he answers. “Most of the time we don’t even leave the bedroom.”
Son of a bitch. That was not the response I was expecting. Apparently neither was Cass since she starts to cough, choking on her last sip of beer.
“You okay?” I ask while Eddie beats on her back.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” she says. “Eddie is, um, also a Ravens fan.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” he replies. “I just surprised Cass with season tickets to all the home games.”
“All the home games?” I repeat. “That’s a lot of fucking games.”
“I told him it was a sweet gift, but I couldn’t possibly take all of them,” Cass announces.
Good. She’s a huge Ravens fan, so if she’s turning down a chance to go watch games in the stadium, then she’s trying to let the big guy down easy instead of causing an earthquake when she tells him she’s not interested in him as more than a fuck buddy.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Cass must feel equally conflicted based on the way she guzzles her beer.
“Slow down, Cass. You wouldn’t want to say or do anything you’ll be embarrassed about later,” I tell her. “Like the other night when I carried you to bed.”
“I-I don’t remember that,” Cass says.
“I do,” I tell her. “Since I was completely sober and all, I haven’t forgotten a single thing you said…or did.”
“What I did? What did I do?” she asks.
“Don’t worry, I don’t kiss and tell,” I say with a grin and a wink.
Her jaw drops in understanding, and then the empty glass slips from her hand. Thankfully, I have quick reflexes and catch it.
“Ah, thanks,” Cass says when I sit the glass down on the bar. “Ah, Xavier, could you and I step outside to talk for a second?”
“Absolutely,” I agree.
“Hurry back. Kickoff is only five minutes away,” Eddie helpfully says before he places a kiss on Cass’s cheek and eases his hold on her waist enough for her to climb down.
I lead the way to the exit and then turn around to face Cass when we clear the door in front of the building.
“You didn’t tell me your fuck buddy was coming tonight,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
“We made plans weeks ago
