Read Online Fading Out by Trisha Wolfe - Free Book Online Page A

tall but thick and stocky. He guards my ass on the field. But Arian doesn’t even waste a glance his way.
    I consider telling him to knock it off, but Beck’s already up and walking toward her. Without another thought, I spring from my chair.
    “Actually,” Beck says when he’s just a couple feet from her. “I think my man Ryder needs that dance more.” He nods toward me, and I squeeze my eyes closed for a brief second. Shit.
    Arian twirls around on her stool, her face pinched. Mouth tight. “By all means,” she says, waving her hand through the air, “don’t let me stop you. Give it to him good. And make it sexy.” Her head nods encouragingly while she says this, and a laugh slips from my mouth.
    But Beck doesn’t see the humor. His features twist into a hardened expression, and I’m by his side in a flash. “We’ll leave you ladies alone now.” I eye him, trying hard not to look at Arian, whose slitted eyes are shooting daggers at me. As if I sent Beck here for this request.
    “Yeah,” Beck says, backing away. “Not enough ass for my lap, anyway.”
    My mouth pops open to defend her…but I realize, with a mental groan, that I said practically the same thing to her once. Hypocrite bangs around my head as I lead him back to the tables.
    My night is officially on frustrate. I’d planned to ride the high, not let anything bother me, but I’m feeling like it’s better to end the night earlier rather than later. Before my mood really takes a dive for the trenches. And I end up punching one of my teammates.
    Hell, besides, every time I try to make amends with Arian, I just end up fucking things up worse. And I really do try. I mean, I go in with the best of intentions, an apology ready on my tongue—but then her hot little body draws me in. And I’m all over her, unable not to touch her.
    My breathing is ramped just thinking about her body pressed to mine. I release a strained breath. We need a fresh start. A do-over. Fuck, we need something.
    And I need to make it abundantly clear to Beck and the rest of them to steer clear. I stare at the glass of Coke, wary, as if the bartender somehow gave me the wrong drink. I don’t feel intoxicated, but I’m looking for a reason, any excuse, to blame for my abruptly brimming anger.
    I need to go cool off outside.
    Raising my hand, I signal the waitress to cash out my tab. While I’m waiting, hoping I can escape this scene before it gets ugly, I stare blankly at Marissa as she swivels her hips, rocking into James.
    A high-pitched yelp snags my attention. My gaze is drawn to the bar top where Arian is waving her hands frantically. She bounces off the stool and pulls her soaked shirt away from her body.
    What the…?
    The laughter pulls me out of my confusion, and I turn around. Five of my guys covering their faces, trying and failing not to burst into laughter. As Arian’s annoyed voice rises above the low music, all of them at once lose it and crack up.
    “Hey,” Beck says, shaking his head at me and shrugging sheepishly. “She makes it too easy, bro.” The others clap him on the back.
    Then I’m walking toward Arian, lava in my veins. What the hell now?
    “This your idea of a joke?” She stops ringing her shirt—that probably cost more than my old Jeep—to reach for a straw. She’s covered in what looks like cranberry juice. Then she uses the straw to pick something off the bar top. A condom. “It was in my drink.”
    I see it now. Her putting the drink to her lips, seeing the floating condom, and then dumping the drink on herself. If it were any other snotty chick, I’d probably laugh; say she deserved it. But as I’m watching Arian get fired up with outrage, I note her shaking hands. The tremble of her lips. The hurt she’s trying to conceal. The humiliation etched on her face steals all the air from my lungs. I have nothing to laugh with.
    And shit. Beck got the bartender in on this? My head whips around to see him still in the throes of