In college, there's one word that can change the energy of an entire room. Especially one that's full of football players. And especially on the heels of an amazing win.
It's a word that makes everyone go crazy. Makes them louder, more obnoxious, more excited. It takes a party from almost there to full swing in a mere half second. And that word is–
"SHOTS!"
Yep, that's it. That's the one.
The team house goes wild and everyone crowds the bar in the living room. Well, they call it a bar, but it's basically just a random slab of countertop sitting on top of stacked concrete squares. My dad would call it an OSHA wet dream.
There's a girl on every barstool, each sporting the jersey of the guy hovering nearby, and Rhodes is filling shot glasses with whiskey. When the girls all lean their heads back, it doesn't take long to realize they're not doing regular shots.
"Hell yeah! Spit shots!" Mitchell shouts as he walks in with Mia's roommate on his arm. He looks over at her and winks. "We got here just in time."
She giggles as they make their way to the bar. They're cute and all, but the sight of her in his jersey makes my stomach do something weird and my eyes travel the room for Mia. I don't see her anywhere, but that's probably for the best if she's still wandering around in Tubman's fucking jersey.
I take a long swig of my beer, glancing back at the bar just as the guys all down their whiskey and proceed to spit the shot into their respective girl's mouth. It's nasty and hot, gross and intriguing all at the same time. A huge crowd pleaser, too, as everyone cheers and another group calls next.
Without permission, my gaze is shifting all around the room again, trying to find Mia. That indescribable pull towards her making itself known, despite my irritation. But instead, all I catch are a few other sets of eager eyes trying to make contact with mine, beautiful girls silently asking if I'll be the guy who spits a shot into their mouth.
I'm not interested. I don't even feel like celebrating the win. And if I was going to spit a shot into anyone's mouth tonight, it wouldn't be any of these jersey chasers. The only girl I'd even consider doing that with is the one who randomly showed up in someone else's jersey today, so that's awesome.
I shouldn't be this out of sorts about it. It's not like she's my girlfriend. It's not like inviting her to the game lays some kind of claim on her. It's not like fucking every other day means we're a couple.
In fact, part of our agreement is that we aren't in a relationship. She didn't do anything wrong, technically, and I'm not supposed to care about this shit at all. Except, here I am... upset that she showed up to a game wearing a number that wasn't mine. There's a good chance I'm just being a butthurt, jealous idiot right now.
"Mia!" Lindsey shrieks. "You have to do a spit shot with us!"
I immediately follow her eyeline straight to the girl in question, my traitor heart ticking away like a time bomb in my chest, elated by the mere anticipation of seeing her.
She's ditched Tubman's jersey, so I guess that's something, but I don't feel much better about the situation. I want to talk to her, ask her what the hell she was thinking putting it on in the first place, but our eyes only meet for a second before Lindsey is commanding Mia's attention again and she looks away.
"What the heck is a spit shot?" she asks her roommate, only to throw her hand up a second later. "Wait, I don't think I want to know."
You don't, Tink.
It's too late though. Because soon enough, Mitch is taking a shot and letting it loose into Lindsey's mouth as Mia watches in horror. If you've gotta be kidding me had a face, she's the embodiment of it right now and I'm here for it.
Her eyes go wide with shock. "Yeah, that's..."
"Blue Shoes, you're next!" Rhodes shouts over all the noise as he pours another round. He glances over at her with a smile. "You're with Adler."
Her eyes beam over to me, a heap of uncertainty radiating from her, which isn't surprising in the least. Stupid party games have never been her forte, especially one that's this particularly stupid.
"She won't do it," I spout off, finishing off my beer before tossing it into a trash can and letting my gaze fall back to Mia.
Time ticks by slowly as we stare each other down, my stomach sinking as her expression seems to shift and change with every passing second. Uncertainty melting into fear, transforming into guilt before dissolving into a pile of apprehension. I hate that I can read all of it on her face. It's making it hard to stay upset with her.
"I'll do it!" A perky voice chirps from behind me and I spin around to face no other than Emily Emerson. Of course, she'd be the happy volunteer. "I mean, if Mia doesn't want to," she shrugs, "I'd be happy to fill in."
I bet you would.
The problem is, wounded as I am about the whole jersey thing, I don't feel like spitting a shot into anyone's mouth but Mia's. If she's out, so am I. I'm about to lie and tell Emily that spit shots aren't my thing when something insane happens.
"No need, Emily," Mia shows up at my side like a bolt of lightning, throwing a very sugary fake smile in the cheerleader's direction before looking up at me. A possessive hand slides up my chest and her words slip out on a whisper. "I'll do it, but only with you."
"Same," I whisper back, feeling a surge of hope and heat fill my veins as she inches closer to me. I'm useless in this girl's proximity. I swear her honey eyes could cast a spell on me, her voice could put me in trance.
What the fuck was I even mad about again?
Reaching for her hand, I drag her a few steps away to escape all the people and noise for a minute. A flicker of satisfaction settles into my chest as I watch Mia sling one last glance over her shoulder at Emily before giving my hand a squeeze and turning all her attention back to me, waiting for whatever I'm about to say.
Since I don't exactly have anything eloquent prepared, I just come right out with it, "Why in the world did you come to the game in Tubman's jersey, Tink?"
She bursts out laughing and it sounds sad and amused at the same time, teeming with a frustration I can relate to but wasn't expecting.
"Because yours wasn't sent over as an option for me!" she explains, the words spilling out like she's been wanting to say them all day. "What the hell, Gray? I wanted to wear yours, but the girls were all Theo sent this over just for you and I felt bad! My hands were tied."
"I didn't know anyone was sending jerseys over!" I laugh, pulling her against me and wrapping her up in a hug. "I spent the morning getting ready to play and making sure I got to the team meeting on time. I don't pay attention to whatever else these clowns are up to on game day."
As my upset dissolves rapidly into the realization of a foolish misunderstanding, I feel an even stronger urge than usual to feel her close to me. A desire to steal her away, kiss her for a few hours, and let her lick my stupid wounds.
She sinks her body into mine, resting her chin against my chest, and looks up at me. "I had fun at the game," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Even though you barely looked at me the whole time and you didn't come find me after."
"My feelings were hurt," I mutter, amping up the drama of my infantile behavior with a pouty smile. "But I'm glad you had fun."
"I really did. You were very impressive. And I..." She pauses, sighing. "I wish I'd been wearing your jersey."
"Me, too. I'm not accustomed to feeling jealous, Tink," I admit softly.
Mia bites down on her lip and looks at the floor, kicking the toe of her shoe against mine. "I wasn't expecting that either," she mutters, lifting her eyes back up to mine. "You being jealous doesn't exactly go with our... arrangement."
Fuck. I shouldn't have said anything. If I've spooked her and she runs away from me again, that's going to be a problem for me and this stupid beating organ in my chest that can't figure out how to act right.
Although, now that she mentioned it...
"What would you call that little thing with Emily just now?" I ask her, my eyebrows lifting with amusement. And maybe a touch of satisfaction at the idea that she might feel even a fragment of what I've been feeling.
Her lips part and a thousand emotions dance across her face before her eyes dart off to the side, avoiding mine at all costs. I hold my breath while she deliberates and when she finally looks back up at me, something electric passes between us in the silence, Mia's honey eyes glowing with realization under the dim living room lights.
"That was probably a bit of jealousy," she finally admits, her voice only a touch above a whisper.
My head bobs up and down, but I don't say anything. I'm trying too hard to reign in my reaction, keep my excitement under control. I know that must have been a hard confession, but she has no idea how it feels for me to hear it and my heart is racing in my chest. Because jealousy usually means one thing.
That she's been feeling what I've been feeling.
I've sensed it here and there when we're together, those walls of hers crumbling little by little as she gives in to whatever has been building between us. But the problem is, she keeps the walls up so fucking high, always needing to stay in control and maintain the limits of our arrangement. Even when they break down a little, they're still as high as the sky.
I reach for her hand, interlocking her fingers with mine. "We should probably talk about that at some point."
She presses her lips together and nods, the smallest hint of worry flickering in her eyes and it makes my chest squeeze. "Yeah, we probably should."
"Hey, Adler! Mia!" Rhodes calls out behind us. "Let's do this thing."
I glance at him, rolling my eyes as he stretches his arms out, bottle of whiskey in one hand, impatience written all over his face. "Be there in a minute," I tell him before looking back down at Mia. "We can skip the shots and leave if you want. I'd be really good with that."
"No. I..." She hesitates, spinning to look at the bar before shaking her head and meeting my eyes again. "I want to do one. We're celebrating your win today."
Alrighty then.
Beaming with appreciation, I lead her back to the bar, enjoying the fresh change in the air as we walk together, hand in hand. We're surrounded by all the noise and people again, but all I can see is Mia and I like that view. A lot.
She takes a seat at the last stool and I wait beside her as Rhodes walks down the line and fills shot glass after shot glass. When he gets to us, the Jack Daniels in his hand has me pausing with a memory and I hold a hand up.
While I don't fully understand the circumstances of Mia's life before her stepdad entered the picture, what I've pieced together so far seems to point at some delicate matters involving whiskey and whoever held the position before him.
"No whiskey," I tell Rhodes, scanning the myriad of liquors on the shelf behind the bar. "Give me a shot of that Smirnoff Vanilla back there."
"You got it," he nods, filling our glass. The vodka spills over the edge, and I feel Mia's knee bouncing against my leg.
I place my hand over it, give it a squeeze. "You good?"
"Yeah," she exhales a small laugh before glancing down the line as everyone else starts taking their shot. "I think so. Let's just get this over with."
With a deep breath, she leans her head back, slow and unsure and not nearly far enough for me to spit this vodka into her mouth without making a mess.
Grabbing the glass in my left hand, I move my right hand to Mia's neck, gliding past her collarbone and up the smooth column of her throat.
The smallest gasp flees from her mouth as I tilt her head back, watching her champagne hair cascade down in a waterfall behind her.
My heart stutters in my chest, taking in how fucking pretty she is, the pink softness of her lips as they part in anticipation. The blend of worry and intrigue spinning behind her honey eyes as she waits for me.
Music pounds through the speakers and people are chanting the UCLA fight song as I loom above her, suddenly aware of the fact that I've never seen her from this vantage point before. The thought makes me pause.
That can't be right. We've hooked up so many times now, I must've seen her from this angle before. Must've taken in the sight of her below me, eyes slammed shut and inhibitions vacant as I drill into her. That has to have happened at some point. Right?
It hasn't though. The times we've been together flash through my brain, playing on a highlight reel like when I'm in the film room, studying the team before we play a game.
She's never let me on top. In fact, every time I remember trying to take control of her in the bedroom, she's never let me. She's never let me take charge like that. I hadn't realized it until now. I've always been too busy enjoying the moment.
Fuck.
Does she even realize she's doing it? Is that her way of maintaining the limits of our arrangement? Or is it second nature to her because of something else?
"Come on, Gray," she whispers, her fingers giving my shirt an anxious tug, and I snap back to reality.
I toss the shot back and lean in close, letting my mouth hover over hers as she opens wide and takes it from me.
When she swallows it, I bring my lips down to hers for a kiss, tasting the sweet vanilla on her breath, the sting of vodka on her tongue. Time moves like molasses and all I can think about is being alone with her.
Slowly, she sits back up and pushes against me as she comes to her feet. "I didn't hate that," she says, licking her lips and giving me the sweetest smile. "What was that stuff?"
"Vanilla vodka and my saliva," I smirk. "You want some more?"
She gives me a playful shove. "Nope. I didn't like it that much."
"I can't believe you actually did it," I say, meaning it. I'm shocked, to be honest. Sort of thrilled, feeling a little woozy. And considering all I've had is one beer, I can only be drunk on one thing. One person.
"I didn't want to," Mia says softly. "But I wasn't about to let your mouth be that close to Emily's."
Yep. She might only just be realizing it, but this girl is drunk on the same thing. And I'm ready to erase all the nonsense from today and get lost in this new buzz between us.
I reach for her hand. "Let's get the fuck out of here."
*****
"Are your eyes still closed?" Mia asks, her voice suspicious as hell.
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Last time I checked, I know how to close my eyes," I answer with a little attitude for drama. "So, yes."
"Just making sure," she sings out and I can hear her smile from behind my properly closed eyes.
They're closed because when a girl walks into your dorm, takes off her shirt and tells you to close your eyes, you close your fucking eyes. I haven't even stolen a peek at her, despite the fact that she's topless and doing God knows what in my room right now.
My eyes are closed because I'm a goner.
The sound of hangers shifting around in my closet has my curiosity piqued. "What are you doing in there, Tink?"
"Rooting through your shit," she mutters, distracted. But then a heap of mischief joins her tone as she adds, "Why? You gettin' antsy over there, Adler?"
"Yes."
"Is it because you know I'm naked?"
Fuck. "You're naked?"
Kill me. Just the thought of her traipsing around my room with no clothes on is making me hard. And I'm missing it. I want to open my eyes so bad.
Why am I not opening my eyes?
Oh right, because she told me to keep them closed and I'd do anything she said.
Mia's laugh drifts around the room like a song. "Relax," she says, sounding closer than she did a minute ago. And then I feel her hands on my shoulders, the heat of her body as she situates herself between my legs. Her voice is a sultry whisper. "Open your eyes, Gray."
I do as she says, my gaze landing right on a sea of Bruins blue and yellow, a familiar number splayed across her middle. Holy fuck.
I look her up and down, from her pretty face and the shower of champagne hair falling over her shoulders, past my spare jersey that hits her at mid thigh, and right down to her bare feet with toes painted blue.
She's a vision of golden skin and sweetness, the cutest shy smile I've ever seen as she watches me take it all in. My home jersey has never looked better.
I grab her by the waist and pull her closer to me, my eyes drifting up to find hers. "You look good, Tink."
Her smile reaches out and gives my heart a squeeze. "You like it?"
All I can do is nod, letting my gaze brush over her one more time, my hands traveling down and skimming her thighs. "Best look I've ever seen on you."
Satisfied with my reaction, she bites down on her bottom lip and a moment of silence passes between us. But as a frown takes over her lips, a rush of emotion builds in my chest, wondering what she could be thinking. We've opened a lot of new tabs tonight and I'm sure her mind must be as busy as mine.
I give her leg a gentle tap. "Talk to me, Mia."
She sighs. "When Linds told me I had a special request," she begins softly, her hands gliding up from my shoulders. Past my neck and sinking into my hair. "The first person that came to my mind was you. I was excited to wear your jersey, Gray. And when she pulled out Theo's instead, I... I guess I just assumed you didn't want me to wear yours."
The look on her face has my whole body going into panic mode.
"Hey." I pull her closer to me, hugging her body against mine until there's no room left between us. I'm vaguely aware that my dick is pressing into her thigh like a sword, but what else is new? I'm always hard around this girl. She's gotta be used to it by now. "I'd never not want you in my jersey, Tink. In fact, from here on out, let's just agree that if you're wearing any clothes besides your own, I'd like them to be mine. Is that okay with you?"
"Yeah," she laughs, giving me an enthusiastic nod. "That sounds really good to me."
"Okay." I sigh in relief as my phone dings with a text. "Glad we got that settled," I tell Mia as I reach beside me to check it.
It's from my mom. Reminding me for the tenth time about her and Dad's itinerary next week when they fly out for the game. And being emotional, as usual, about how I'm missing Thanksgiving. I roll my eyes, but can't help smiling at the screen. I miss her, too.
"Who is it?" Mia asks. "You look sad and happy and irritated all at the same time."
I drop my phone beside me and look up at her with a sigh. "It's my mom. She's, uh... not taking it too well that I won't be home for Thanksgiving."
"Moms are like that," she smiles. But then her eyebrows dip together and she frowns. "Wait, you're not going home for Thanksgiving? Why?"
"We play Cal Berkeley next Saturday," I explain. "They can't have us too far away. Practice and all that."
"Oh," Mia mutters, going sad on me. "They shouldn't schedule games that close to a holiday."
Her concern sends a warmth across my chest. "It is what it is," I shrug.
She tilts her head at me. "Very Grayson of you to say something like that."
"It's called adapting to the situation, baby," I smirk, letting my hands glide down to the bottom of my jersey she's got on, and then sliding under it. Traveling up and brushing her stomach and hips with my fingertips.
Her skin pebbles under my touch and, all at once, a surge of new energy passes between us. Something more sultry, heated. The air grows thick and Mia climbs into my lap.
It's a simple action, familiar to me. For us. But one I'll never see the same after my revelation back at the football house. And as she grinds herself against me, bringing her mouth to mine for a kiss that's all tongue and vanilla chapstick, I wonder if I'm just making it up in my head. Remembering everything wrong. Overthinking something that shouldn't be taking up this much brain power.
But maybe... just maybe, this is another wall. Another piece of the Mia puzzle I've been unknowingly putting together every time I'm with her. And maybe our little arrangement is about to get a lot more complicated.
Or maybe now that the lust has settled and I'm starting to see things more clearly, things will be just fine.
I really don't know.
"Where'd you go, Gray?" Mia whispers against my mouth, pulling back slightly to look at me, her eyes filling with curiosity and concern as she tightens her legs around mine, taking her usual, solid position on top of me.
I want to ask her about it, ask her why she won't relinquish that need for control. I also want to continue our conversation about the whole saga of jerseys and jealousy and what it all means going forward.
But as tempted as I am to find answers and figure out where we stand, I keep my thoughts to myself and let her do her thing. Let those walls of hers stay up for now. Because the last thing I want to do is force them to come down before she's willing to pull those bricks apart on her own.
If I learned anything from working construction with my dad, it's that walls take time to go up. And if I learned anything from my little sister, whose walls were as high as skyscrapers when she became a part of our family, it's that they take time to come down. Mia's will be no different.
"I'm right here, Tink," I mutter, bringing our mouths back together and savoring the taste of her as I return to the present.
Everything Mia and I need to talk about can wait. Because the only thing that matters is this moment.
...
Author Note: We know you may have been expecting a little drama here, but when the Alder boys fall, they only see one girl. And like father like son…Grayson would never. 😏 We love you guys for your faith in him!