When We Met

I bit back a shaky smile. “Just some jockstrap who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. He can’t seem to take a hint.”

“Someone harassing you?” Chuck asked as he joined us. Standing six foot three, Chuck was a beast. His frame was like a grizzly bear’s, so when his chest puffed up, he was quite intimidating. I briefly entertained the idea of what Dalton would do if I sent Chuck out in my place. The thought definitely had its merits, and would give me some satisfaction.

At least it might dim his inviting smile, that hypnotic voice, and those warm eyes. That was the part of him I remembered the most. I’d always loved his eyes. There was something about seeing him in person again, and the sparkle in his eyes, that didn’t project from any of the ba

I patted Chuck’s arm, smiling. “Easy, big fella. I’ll handle him.”

“Maybe I should go out there and emphasize that when a lady says no, she means no,” he added, cracking his knuckles. “Tell me who needs a little reminder.”

I laughed at the thought of Chuck confronting Dalton in my honor. That was all we needed, to start a brawl with the school’s basketball savior. Chuck’s sentiment was sweet but would be the end of Gruby’s. “It’s Dalton Thompson, but don’t worry. I can handle him.”

“The Dalton Thompson? All-American, conference champion, future lottery pick—that Dalton Thompson?”

“Seriously? You, too?” I snorted with disbelief. “Please tell me you’re not riding the Dalton bandwagon like everyone else around here.”

“Honey, I’d drive that bandwagon if they’d let me. Dalton is one of those once-in-a-generation types of players. He’s got more talent in his pinkie than everyone else on the team combined. We were lucky he chose to come here to play ball. Trust me, that kid has a huge future.”

“Oh Lord. So the guy is good at basketball. Why put him on such a pedestal?”

“Dalton isn’t just a phenom on the court, he’s a good guy. Believe me, with his talent he could be a prima do

I digested Chuck’s words. Grudgingly I had to agree. It was a decent thing for Dalton to do.

“Do you really not like him?” Chuck inquired.

“I don’t dislike him, per se. He’s just not my favorite person. I’m not interested in becoming part of his entourage. And I definitely don’t consider myself a basketball groupie.”

Chuck laughed. “I can’t deny he seems to do well at attracting the ladies, but from what I’ve seen here, he’s respectful.”

“Respectful, meaning he doesn’t push them out of bed without saying good-bye first?” My snarkiness continued to amuse Chuck.

“Well, I can’t speak accurately about Dalton Thompson’s bedroom behavior. All I can offer is my opinion of what I know about the guy from observing him here. I’m just saying don’t judge the guy before you really get to know him. Regardless, I think my offer to intervene was a little premature. You obviously have a handle on the situation.” He winked at me, heading toward his office.

The problem was I did already know him. Taking the chicken’s way out, I talked Amanda into trading tables with me. I could tell she was puzzled by my request, but she readily agreed. She was more than happy to have a chance to chat it up with Collin.

I dropped off the check at the table I’d taken over from Amanda. The guy handed over his credit card without even checking the bill. That was a surefire sign that a customer was ready to go. I cashed him out swiftly before heading to my table of tipsy sorority girls who were flagging me down for another round of drinks.

“Another refill, ladies?” I asked, grabbing the empty margarita pitcher.

“Woot, woot, heck yeah. Keep it flowing,” one of the girls hollered, flashing a wide smile. At least they were happy drinkers.

“Coming right up.” I left them to their not-so-private conversation about some guy who they heard had piercings in some interestingly inconspicuous places.

“Hey, Paul. Can I get another pitcher for table five?” I perched myself on one of the barstools to wait.

“Sure thing. Give me a few seconds.” He filled two shot glasses for a couple of women dressed in business suits. The lanyards around their necks indicated they worked for the university in some capacity. They clinked glasses before sucking down the contents. One of them started coughing as the whiskey burned a path down her throat, making her friend laugh while she patted her on the back. “You’ll get used to it,” she chortled. “If we’re going to play with the big boys, we need to be able to hang, or they’ll crush us.” She signaled Paul, who was putting the finishing touches on my margaritas.

“What’s up with that?” I whispered.

“Battle of the sexes. From what I gather, the school treats the men a little better than the women.”

“Shocking,” I said sarcastically. The world treated men and women differently. Why should our university be any different? Especially when it came to athletics. You could be at the highest end of the spectrum in academics, but you were still a second-class citizen when compared to big-time sports programs. “I’m surprised the president of the university doesn’t walk around with his lips stuck to the players’ asses.”

“Who says he doesn’t? You have any idea how much money the sports programs generate for the school? As harsh as that sounds, the money allows for programs at the college that might be cut otherwise,” he pointed out, sliding over to refill the ladies’ shot glasses.

I knew what he said was true, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sometimes feel like they were rubbing our noses in it. Still, I guess twenty thousand people weren’t filling an arena every few nights to see an art exhibit or a science experiment. I knew I was just being overly sensitive. Seeing Dalton two days in a row had me a little cranky.

Shaking my head, I grabbed the freshly mixed pitcher and headed back to my table of girls, who had begun chanting my name while I was gone.

“Here you go, ladies,” I said, sliding the pitcher on the table.

“You’re the best, Courtney-y-y. I seriously love you,” Misty, one of the girls, drawled as she snagged my hand. She pulled me into the booth and slung her drunken arm across my shoulders. “Don’t you guys just love Courtney? She’s so cute and sweet.” She planted a wet kiss on my check, making me blanch slightly, but I allowed it. I knew Misty from a few classes we had taken together. She was harmless. We had one of those kinds of friendships where we acted happy to see each other and always made promises to hang out, but neither of us ever took the extra step to do so.

“If I ever went gay, I’d totally want it to be with you,” she continued.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all night, but you’d probably have a fight on your hands. I’ve been propositioned by my fair share of friends,” I said, standing.

“Aw, I get it. You’re a tease,” one of Misty’s friends declared.

“Oh, look, Cass is totally falling asleep,” another of the girls said, elbowing Cass in the arm.

“I am not. I was resting my eyeballs for a moment. They were tired of looking at you.” They all giggled when her friends pouted in response. “I’m kidding. I love you like a drunk loves to drink.”

“Gee, thanks. Why can’t you say something sweet like Misty said to Courtney?” She rolled her eyes and took another swig of the drink in her glass.

I laughed but left them to their drunken compliments.