âDaniels!â
Weâd walked into a restaurant/pub eatery that Tasmin recommended. It was close to the Cain University campus, and we were greeted with that yell as soon as we walked inside. I froze, for a second, until Zeke Allen came walking from a back section. He was wearing all Grant West clothes, and on the front the words embroidered read, âCruz Stylesâ #1 Fan.â He came over, saw I was reading his shirt and wiggled his eyebrows. âNice, huh?â He gestured to the back with his thumb. âGet a load of this.â He turned around and the words embroidered there were, âMara Danielsâ Boyfriendâs Fan Club, Charter Captain.â
âOh, God.â I sank down into a squat right there and then. My butt rested on the back of my heels. My head in my hands.
âItâs awesome. How awesome is this? And get this, I wear this to all of Blaiseâs soccer games.â He was laughing as he tugged on my elbow and pulled me back up. âCome in here.â His arms went around me in a big bear hug.
Greetings were happening around us as I stepped back, and saw Blaise was there, giving his sister a hug. Race was next, getting a half-side man-hug. Seeing me notice him, he gave me a slight chin-lift. âHey, Daniels.â
Daniels.
I mirrored his chin-lift. âDeVroe.â
Zeke threw his arm around my shoulder, yanking me to his side. âI call dibs on Danielsâ friendship. Youâre so low on that list now.â
Blaise scowled at him before rolling his eyes. âYouâre a moron.â
âSure am. After all the shit you do, Iâm still your best friend.â
Tasmin and Race headed farther inside the restaurant, and Skylar, Zoe, and Miles moved in a different direction. They went over to where Grant West people were, including the rest of our roommates. And they werenât alone. Seeing me, Kyle Ruiz stood up from their table, a wince flashing over his face before he made his way toward where I was standing.
âHey, uh.â He raked his hand through his hair.
Before he could say anything, Zeke said, with a bite, âWho are you?â
Kyle frowned at him, lingering on Zekeâs arm still around my shoulders. âUh, a friend ofââ
âReally?â I cut in, raising an eyebrow.
He grimaced again. âLook, uh, Iâm sorryââ
âFor what?â from Zeke.
âIâm sorry, but who are you?â
âSomeone whoâd like to know why youâre apologizing to Daniels.â
Now Ruiz raised his own eyebrow. âIâm Grant Westâs quarterback.â
Zeke shook his head. âThat donât mean shit to me.â He gestured to Blaise with a head nod. âThis guy here has turned down soccer clubs from Europe to stay in college. He doesnât go around giving his resume and social media followers before issuing apologies. You know who does that? Douchebags.â
I cursed, stiffening under Zekeâs arm.
He only tightened it around me, his chest puffing up.
Blaise started laughing. âI might start now.â
Zeke threw him a grin. âDo it. Iâd pay money to see the next time you fuck up and go that route apologizing toââ
âWho are these guys?â Ruiz asked me, jerking a thumb in Zekeâs direction.
Zeke went back to scowling. âWeâre her friends, and we know who you are. We know what you did too.â He lifted his other arm. âAre you not reading my shirt? I donât just have Maraâs back, but I have Stylesâs back. He makes my friend have great orgasms so Iâm going to support him as long as he puts that dreamy little pep in Danielsâ step that I witnessed when she in here, and pun meant because thatâs the type of douchebag am.â
Blaise groaned. âIâm out. I canât get into any more fights today.â
Zeke called after him, âIâm going to let Styles know you deserted him in his time of need right now. Letâs hope he doesnât hold grudges.â Zeke focused back on Ruiz, upping his scowl. âLet your apology commence. Iâm her friend, if you need to know my qualifications. Iâm also Charter Captain of her Boyfriendâs Fan Club.â
âOkay.â Kyle shook his head, raking his hand over his face. âIâm sorry for being a dumbass at the bar. I was a dick. Iâm sorry.â
âThanks, Ruiz, but apologize to Cruz too.â
He nodded. âI know. Trust me. Eating humble pie here. Heâs the big man this weekend.â
âYouâre right.â Zeke jerked his thumb toward his own shirt. âThatâs my boi!â
When we went in, Darren gave me a small wave. âIâm going to go sit with my roommates.â
Zeke rubbed at his chest. âI donât like this. I donât like being pulled in two different directions.â
âSays the guy who goes to Cain University and is wearing a Styles fan shirt.â
âThatâs different. My love for Cruz Styles transcends university alumni donation stipends.â
I hid a smile because it really was nice to see Zeke. âWeâre going to hang out this weekend.â
âDamn straight we are. My fraternity is having a party Saturday night. We know the coach is letting your hockey team head back on their own, so weâre hoping theyâll be our guests of honor.â
âI donât want to know how you pulled that off.â
âA lot of blackmail.â He gave me two thumbs-up. âAnd threats. They go a long way here.â
I held my hands up, beginning to back away. Zeke was being Zeke. I just needed to go with it by now.
Going over and sinking down in the chair across from Darren, he gave me a tight smile before flipping his phone around and pointing to a screen. âYou see this?â
I jerked up. âWhat is this?â
Zoe said, âItâs a campus blog. She covers all the big athletes, but Cruz has been her main focus for the last month. You didnât know?â
âI had no idea.â
âThatâs why we were teasing you. This was posted this morning. We thought you were just being quiet about it.â
âHow did this get out?â
Zoe shook her head. The rest of the table didnât have an answer.
Darren pulled his phone back. âYou okay?â
I held up a hand, shrugging, and leaning back in my seat. Iâd lost my appetite, but⦠âIâll be fine.â But fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We were out in a big, huge way if a blogger was posting about it. And in a seriously insulting way too. âSheâs implying Iâm a slut.â
Darren frowned. âClick bait. Iâm pretty sure she sells information.â
âWhatâs that mean?â
âYou could give her twenty dollars, and sheâll share her source.â
âAre you serious?â
âWe deal with her too. Cruz has been her target since hockey started, but she likes to write about football players as well.â
âIâm sorry.â
He shrugged, hunching over his plate. âIâm pretending itâs practice for when we get to the NFL.â
That blog stung. And I knew more attention was coming. It was inevitable now.
âEat. Weâll plan retribution later.â Darren gestured behind me, right as the server came over.
Retribution. Too bad I couldnât order off the menu.
I deleted it. I owed Kit a call, but my mom was getting to me through her. I didnât need to see whatever it said to know what it was. My mom being my mom.