Matt found himself agreeing. “Yeah, I’ll help. Whatever you need, I’m in. I already let you sketch me last semester, so it can’t be that bad, right?”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Matt.” She shot him a sardonic look.
Before he could respond, Chris interjected. “Sorry, babe. I’m not trying to be an asshole. Of course I’ll help. You know you just have to ask, and I’ll help with whatever. I’ll even ask a few guys for you.”
Megan gave Chris a genuine smile, her face lit up. Matt buried his attention in his food, not wanting to witness more PDA between the happy couple. Speaking of assholes, he needed to get his head out of his. He should be happy for them, happy that Chris wasn’t going to get syphilis or something, and had quit screwing anything with perky boobs that smiled in his direction. He’d never understood how Chris and Lance could treat women so casually like that. Yeah, okay, he’d taken advantage of the jersey chasers, too. They threw themselves at him. He’d be stupid to turn that down, and he’d never have heard the end of it from the guys.
But in reality he preferred to be in a relationship. Not that any of those had worked out well for him. The last good relationship he’d had was … Hannah. Everything since then had been a disaster. And with how he’d left things with her, he didn’t think that qualified as less than a disaster either. At least she didn’t seem to hate his guts like the other chicks he’d dated. Hell, he’d even had to convince Megan to tutor him last semester so he didn’t have to meet with his assigned tutor, who was also his ex. After the way he’d ended things with her, he didn’t think she’d help him pass anything. Thank God he’d found an alternative and Coach had agreed to it.
Hannah didn’t look like she wanted to rip his guts out, though, so that was promising. Of course she also didn’t look like she remembered him, which rankled, but that seemed better than outright hatred. He could work with indifference, see if he could get it to change to affection.
Wait. No.
He couldn’t.
He was one of her managers. The last thing he should care about was whether she remembered him or if she wanted to pick up where they’d left off. Even if the thought of doing just that wouldn’t get out of his head.
Chapter Four
The thumping bass felt like a punch to her gut over and over and over again. Hannah tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling and allow her body to move with the beat instead of fighting it. She and Elena had gone to a crowded club downtown with overpriced drinks. They danced together, cocktails held high to avoid the jostling bodies surrounding them.
Hannah drained the last of her Lemon Drop and fanned her hand in front of her face. Leaning close, she shouted in Elena’s ear, “I’m going to get some water and cool down!”
With a nod and a thumbs-up, Elena waved her off. Hannah wove her way through the dancing bodies, twisting and sliding to avoid groping hands, the flashing lights making it that much more difficult. On the other side of the crowd, she deposited her empty glass on a table near the bar before heading for the women’s restroom. Even in there she felt the throb of the music, somewhat muffled, an echo of the pounding beat on the dance floor.
Hannah took the time to wipe the smudges from under her eyes where her makeup had run from sweating while she danced before heading back out, shaking her head at the giggling drunk girls that stumbled in as she opened the door. The club had become more crowded, and she had a hard time getting to the bar so she could order a glass of water. When she managed to shove her way to the front, she couldn’t get the bartender’s attention. The bottle-blonde behind the bar was too busy flirting with some frat boys for tips, bending low so they could get a good view of the cleavage threatening to spill out of her low-cut and too-tight shirt, and couldn’t be bothered with other women further down.
After serving the frat boys and flirting a few more minutes, the bartender’s eyes turned her direction, and Hannah raised her hand to indicate that she wanted to order. The way the woman’s eyes lit up gave Hannah a split second of hope, even if that reaction was confusing until she realized the bartender had her gaze focused over Hannah’s shoulder. Hannah glanced behind her and came face-to-face with a chest covered in a snug polo shirt. Craning her neck up, up, she made eye contact with the tall, dark-haired guy looming over her. He grinned down at her, straight white teeth flashing in the dim light. She offered him a closed-mouth smile in return.
The bartender finished with the frat boys and sauntered over, a predatory grin on her face directed at the guy behind Hannah. She leaned onto the bar, flipping back her hair, her arms pushing her breasts up further, the lace from her bra peeking out of the low scoop neck of her tight, black top. “What can I get you, sweetie?”
Hannah bit her upper lip to keep herself from laughing at the woman’s over-the-top flirting. The guy leaned into her space even more, placing a hand around Hannah’s waist. When she stiffened at his touch, he squeezed his fingers like maybe he was trying to reassure her, but didn’t remove his hand. She twisted to look up at him, but he started ordering before she could say anything. “I’ll have a Widmer Hefeweizen and whatever my girl here needs.” He turned to Hannah with another wide smile, one eyebrow raised in question.
Hannah was too stunned for a second
