Page 24 of Rival Season
Half an hour later, the three of us are at a bar with ice cold beers and gigantic plates of Tex-Mex in front of us—guess everything really is bigger in Texas—and all is forgiven.
“So the other guys are going to Outlaw later,” Fisher says before he folds his sixth fajita in half and practically inhales it.
“You say that like we should know what Outlaw is,” I reply with an eye roll. Personally, I’m happy staying put where we are—it’s warm right now, even for Texas in February, and we’re sitting in a busy beer garden with good vibes and great music playing. There’s even one of those fake bull-riding arenas in the center of the bar, which I’m sure we can persuade Fisher to have a go on if we play our cards right.
“Only one of the most famous nightclubs in Texas!” Fisher exclaims through a mouthful of food, looking horrified.
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to talk with food in your mouth?” Noah grumbles.
Fisher swallows his food and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Sorry, Mom,” he says with an eye roll, before perking up as he continues. “But I think we should go, too. Carver and Sandine said it’s packed with wall-to-wall tens.” His eyes glaze over a little. “Do you think the girls wear Daisy Dukes and cowboy boots to the bar?”
I shrug, not really caring if they do. “Maybe.”
“What’s with you lately?” Fisher frowns at me in concern. “Aren’t you from Cowboyland, Canada? Home to the world’sbiggest rodeo? Surely the thought of a little Daisy Duke action should get you going.”
“I’m just surprised you’ve never been to this Outlaw place before if it’s the best club in Texas.” I change the subject swiftly.
“I tried to, a few summers ago when I was in town for the weekend with some buddies, but I was way underage at the time, and no matter how good my fake ID was, they weren’t accepting it.”
I grab a tortilla chip from my plate and use it to scoop up a piece of chicken. “Well, speaking of my homeland, it’s still weird to me that you can’t drink legally here until, like, your junior year of college. Back in Alberta, you can go to the bars at eighteen.”
Fisher waves a dismissive hand. “Yes, but someone told me once that it’s so cold in winter there the girls have to wear snowsuits out to the club. And while those look very cute on a ski slope, they don’t do it for me when I’m trying to get my dance on with someone.” He peers at me. “Is it true?”
“Oh yeah,” I drawl in a cowboy twang. “Complete with snow boots and ski goggles to see in the blizzards. And then after a long night pounding shots of maple syrup, everyone laces up their skates to skate home because the roads are too frozen to drive on…but you have to be stealthy, otherwise, the Mounties will pull you over for Skating Under the Influence.”
Fisher’s brows fly up. “Really?”
“No, you idiot,” I reply.
Noah snorts with laughter. “In Fishy’s defense, you did tell us you almost got mauled by an angry moose once.”
I turn to Noah and shake my head at him in disbelief. “How is that even close to the same thing?”
Noah shrugs. “Just saying, man, it’s a foreign mystery of wilderness up there.”
“I heard you have milk in bags,” Fisher adds with a shudder.
“Just out east,” I say, a tad defensively. Then, I acquiesce. “Okay, I’ll admit that part is weird. But seriously, how do you two know so little about Canada when you literally play in a sports league that has seven teams based there? Like you’ve both been there multiple times.”
“Mostly inside hotels and arenas.” Fisher sips on his beer smugly. “I just don’t think we’ve been exposed to the dark underbelly of real Canadian culture yet. Snowsuits and all.”
“Fine, I’ll take you out to show you ‘real’ Canada next time we have a game there.”
“Nice.” Fisher grins, then nods at a group of pretty girls about our age sitting a few tables over. “And in the meantime, shall we go and see if any of those ladies are riding the bull later tonight?”
“Go for it,” I reply vaguely, sliding my phone out of my pocket.
No new texts.
She’s probably just busy studying.Still, a strange sense of unease gathers in my stomach. I’m naturally protective of people I care about—likely as a result of having to be for most of my life—and while I don’t know Hazel too well yet, I do care for her well-being at the very least, and the thought of her alone in an apartment with Chad-dick makes me feel uneasy.
I don’t think he’d physically hurt her—I think his style with women is more charming before switching to gaslighting them—but I don’t like him being there in 2B with her. I get the feeling he’s going to verbally chip away at her defenses, trying to make her believe she’s somehow at fault forhisbad behavior. While Hazel is strong and feisty, they also dated fora whole year. There must be some lingering feelings there on her part, and I don’t want Chadwick to have a chance to use her vulnerability to his advantage.
I’ve seen this shit before. My dad is a master manipulator who preys on everyone’s emotions and vulnerabilities.
Like when he knew I’d do pretty much anything to earn his love—which he was never going to give me—and I was stupid enough to almost let it cost me my future.
Fisher suddenly reaches over and plucks my phone from my hand.
