Page 2 of One Bet

Fuck, I was glad he’d called on Keaton and not me. I hadn’t heard the question. “I’m sorry. I was getting a pen.”

“Henry Higgins. Narcissist or not?”

I watched Keaton struggle. I’d seen this movie a hundred times. It was an old favorite. I nodded slightly, trying for covert, but Professor Weller caught me. “Miss Stroh believes he is. Help him out, Miss Stroh.”

“Classic narcissist. His way was the only way even though she asked for his help. Higgins built himself into an important person, so he didn’t have to be vulnerable with his personal self. He changed Eliza into something acceptable to him, what he wanted her to be, rather than letting her find and be happy with herself.” I spoke as if I was bored, but I thoroughly believed in what I was saying. “In the end, she got her guy but at what cost to herself thanks to him.”

Sadly, the part of the statement that stuck out for me was that she’d gotten her man. And that, again sadly, was where the worst idea of my life came from.

2

Keaton

I knew she’d be here, knew she’d look beautiful and I also knew she would smell like flowers and sunshine. But it still knocked the wind out of me. It still reminded me of the one night we spent together, when I held her, and we talked about a thousand unimportant things and the one thing I’d felt for her all along. Best night of my life, bar none.

But right now, I had a splitting headache, a less than suitable perk of being a quarterback for the Alabama Knights with an offensive line that allowed more sacks than any other in the NFL. Or maybe the memory of seeing her face when I walked in was more responsible than the recent concussion that had me sidelined.

Today, I didn’t have time for a headache, or time to find a dark room and sleep it off. I had parties to attend, glory days to celebrate with Finn, Jameson, maybe even Ryder, although I wanted to see him less than the others, way less. Okay, not at all. I walked toward the Alpha house, if any of the guys were there, we could get a drink, that would help.

Not much had changed about the house. It was still brick, although thanks to Ryder, the front had been painted more than once. Bushes lined the property on each side and there were still guys throwing around a football on the front lawn, a keg on the porch, and music coming from the back patio. There’d been a lot of good times in this house, a lot of parties and a lot of girls.

I turned up the walk and one of the guys on the lawn called my name and threw the ball at me. I lifted my hands in just enough time to catch it. Once upon a time, I’d been great, recognized everywhere. But thanks to injuries, new and more talented guys, and a roster full of second-stringers ready to make their mark, I spent a lot of time wearing a headset on the sidelines. It had been a while since I’d touched pigskin anywhere except practice, but today it didn’t matter. Here, I was a hero. A guy who’d made it and it felt good. I threw the ball back and smiled at the cheer from the watchers, it was like I’d thrown the game-winning Super Bowl touchdown.

Before I made it to the door, I was surrounded by a new breed of Alpha Alpha Phi brothers, all younger, all athletes. By comparison, I was exactly what the Sunday commentators said, a used-up has been, past his prime and ready for retirement. Fuck, maybe being back wasn’t the great idea I’d thought it would be. It certainly wasn’t helping my morale.

But I would eat up their adoration until they figured out, I was on my way out of the pros. I signed a few autographs, then walked up to the porch where Finn waited. “About time.” He shook my hand and slapped my shoulder.

“I got sidetracked.” I nodded to the yard where beers were being passed around. A normal Friday afternoon at Alpha house.

Finn laughed. “Yeah. I saw your distraction at the registration table. She’s looking good.” A tinge of jealousy spread through my gut. Finn didn’t need to be looking at Avery. No one did. “She single?”

Fuck, what if she wasn’t? What if she was married with kids and a life? What if she hadn’t spent the last ten years pining over me, comparing every man to me and finding him lacking, the way I had been pining for her and shading women when they failed to measure up to the woman I’d never stopped thinking about? For all I knew, she could’ve been married with ten kids, one for each year we’d been apart, the doting husband, and some adorable dog that only loved her.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you talk to her?” He handed me a bottle of a craft brew then kicked back in one of the chairs beside the keg and various coolers.

I shrugged. My lame attempt at chit-chat hardly counted as talking to her, but Finn didn’t have to know how badly I’d fumbled. “Not really.”

“You think she still has that bike?”

The Harley, we’d taken a few rides on it back when she didn’t hate me, back when she’d been free-spirited and happy. Before Ryder destroyed all of that and she tried to destroy us in return. Before I could answer, a couple of other guys from our days at Glouster walked out of the house. There were more man hugs and welcome backs, but my heart wasn’t in it, I was busy remembering the girl with the motorcycle and combat boots.

One Decade Ago

The proposition was intriguing. And it would save my ass. But Avery Stroh didn’t know, didn’t understand all that she would have to do, or what she would go through if Ryder got a hold of her. None of them did. They all saw him as some kind of god, but in truth, he was just an asshole. He had always been one of those silver spoon boys with no moral compass and no sense of the damage he left in his wake.

Finn and I sat in lawn chairs on one side of the cooler while Jameson and Ryder sat on the other and five or six pledges in diapers painted the front of the house. Fourth time this month we’d had to cover the word Asshole someone had painted onto the brick. Someone being one of Ryder’s scorned women, not that we ever knew which one. There were too many suspects and not enough interest in finding which one it was since the hardware store was never going to run out of coverup and we were never going to run out of pledges to do the job.

Finn chuckled. “You could’ve gotten them bigger paintbrushes.” Right now, they’d covered the A, the H, and part of the E because Ryder had supplied them with half-inch brushes. This was going to take forever, someone was going to have to make a beer run if they didn’t hurry up.

I would have laughed along because it was expected, but I was too busy thinking about Avery, more fantasizing about her, about smelling her perfume on my pillow, seeing her black hair fanned out beneath her as I lowered my head and…

Finn nudged my shoulder as a sleek black motorcycle rolled up at the edge of the lawn. “Who is that?”

I knew her right away, torn black jeans, battered black leather jacket, boots that laced up from ankle to calf with a square heel and a steel toe. Normally, I preferred the typical co-ed with the ponytails and Lululemon leggings. But something about Avery Stroh made my dick harder than it had been in a while. And she hadn’t even touched me yet.

Avery shut off the bike and removed her helmet, shaking her hair out while simultaneously using her foot to put down the kickstand. It was a lot of bike for a woman so small, but she handled it like she’d been born on it. I stood and walked toward her. When she’d asked for my assistance in exchange for homework help, she’d been honest. More honest than anyone I’d ever met, especially considering the subject matter and her ultimate goal.