Apparently, while I’d been ailing, the game had let out, and the only ones left were Bennett’s family.

And they were all looking at me with worry.

“Do I look that bad?” I asked apprehensively.

Bennett snorted. “You look like you got hit by a freight train, minus the bruising.”

I winced.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I also meant to tell you about this tonight.”

He snorted. “Not sure why it was some big to-do. It’s a common disease. And I already knew you had it. Your father told me about it offhandedly. I just didn’t realize you didn’t pay attention to what your body was telling you.”

I shrugged. “Well, I don’t like it; however, it makes men freak out. Usually, I do listen to what it tells me.”

He sighed.

“I’m not those assholes you dated, Lennox,” he said through gritted teeth. “And maybe you should figure that out before we go any further.”

He didn’t say another word as he walked with me to the bleachers. Not even when I had to explain to them all that I had diabetes, and this happened from time to time.

Not when we went to dinner afterwards, and I followed in my own car.

Not when we were saying goodbye afterwards.

And not even when I said goodbye to him personally.

With only a quick kiss and a muttered, ‘See you later.’ He was gone.

And I was left standing in an empty parking lot watching him drive away.

Chapter 13

Men suck. And most of the time not in the good way.

-Coffee Cup

Lennox

“What’s your fucking problem?” I screamed to my phone.

I was in the driveway of my work, watching my phone and willing the fucker to light up when I damn well knew it wouldn’t.

He’d been ignoring me for three days now, and here I sat thinking that today would be different.

Well, fuck that!

He could kiss my lily white ass.

Tonight, I’d enjoy myself if it was the last thing I’d do.

And fuck Bennett and his asshole self.

When I was about to pull out of the lot, Paxton came barreling out of the exit towards my car, and slammed himself onto my hood dramatically.

I blinked as two nurses and a couple paramedics laughed at Paxton’s theatrical fall.

So what did I do?

I turned on my windshield washers and sprayed him with it.

He scrambled off my hood quickly, brushing his face and shirt off as if he could will the water away with swipes of his hand.

Then, just for good measure, I sprayed him again as he walked to the passenger side of my car.

“You’re such a bitch,” he said as he dropped down onto the seat next to me.

I smiled.

“What’re you doing?” I asked, looking down at his clothes that were now stained yellow with the pollen that had previously been covering my hood.

“My car won’t start,” he said tiredly. “Take me home with you.”

“I wasn’t planning on going home,” I muttered darkly.

His eyes flared, and a smile started to slowly grow on his face.

“So…what were you going to do?” He asked casually.

I smiled back. “Get drunk at a bar.”

Not really. Maybe just a few drinks.

“Excellent,” he said running his hands together briskly. “Let’s do it.”

Two hours later, and we were most definitely drunk.

And I was barely holding onto the seat with my ass.

“Why do you have such,” I hiccupped. “Loud sex?”

Paxton, who was drunk, but wasn’t to the point where he was hiccupping or slurring his words, replied with, “Because it feels good.”

I shook my head exaggeratedly.

“That’s just so wrong. You know Cola barks as loud as you moan. And nobody can have sex that feels that good,” I muttered.

My mouth didn’t seem to have any control to what was coming out of it, so I said stuff that I never would’ve said under normal circumstances.

“Oh, don’t play all St. Lennox with me, sister. I heard you and tall, dark, and badass. I know he gives it just as good as I get it,” he snickered loudly.

I winced.

Had we been loud?

Not that I would know since it’d been well over a week since I’d had it from him.

Had he moved on?

“What’re you doing?” Paxton asked in alarm when I got out my phone.

“Noneya,” I hiccupped.

“Oh, no. You can’t call him when you can barely get your words out!” Paxton made a half assed grab for the phone, but it was futile. I had a good grip on the sucker, and Paxton was apparently drunker than he looked because he was now trying in vain to pick himself off the floor where he’d fallen between the wall and the barstool.

I scrolled through my names, picked the devil, and hit go.

It rang six times before it went to voicemail, and I heard that sexy, smooth voice said, “Leave a message.”

I left a message.

“Hello. My name is Lennox Jane. You call me Nox. I’m twenty six. I have brown hair with auburn highlights, and I wear makeup because it makes me happy. You are Bennett Alvarez, the man that had good sex with me. But I just wanted you to know, that that is over. No more Nox nookie for you. Say bye bye to the pussy, because you’ll never see it again. And you suck. And I’m keeping that t-shirt I stole from you. And I have your shoes at my place, but I let Cola chew on them because you’re mean. Bye.”

With that well thought out speech, I dropped off the barstool, and barely caught myself on the ledge of the bar before I fell to the ground beside Paxton.

“Are you sleeping?” I asked worriedly as I looked down at him.

“No, I think you need to call a fireman and tell him I can’t get up,” Paxton moaned.

His voice came out muffled by his arm where he had his face buried, and I started to laugh.

Poking him with the toe of my clogs, I asked, “Why can’t you move?”

“The stool won’t move.”

I rolled my eyes, and my gaze caught that of a group of men in the back of the room watching the spectacle in front of them with amused eyes.

I reached forward and hooked my fingers underneath the lip of the chair, and drug it away from him until he could roll completely to his back.

“You’re drawing attention to us,” I whispered worriedly.

I hadn’t realized it before, but there were men in the back of the room that I surely didn’t want calling their buddy, the man who shall not be named.

The man who was going to hate himself in the morning when he got that message telling him how stupid he was.

“Get up, quick!” I urged Paxton with my boot. “They’re coming!”

Paxton rolled over quickly, knowing when my voice got shrill like that that it meant I was about to lose it.

He got up onto his hands and knees, then, as if in slow motion, made it to his feet.

He wasn’t quick at all, and that was proven moments later when the tattooed god in all his glory, strode up to us with a smile tilting up the corner of his lips.

“Hey, Lennox. How’s it shaking?” Michael asked with amusement.

I narrowed my eyes at him and his silent laughter. He may not be showing it outwardly, but I knew damn well and good he was doing it in his head.

I hated it when people laughed at me.

“Michael,” I said stiffly. “What do you want?”

His lips twitched at my forwardness, but he didn’t comment.

Instead he looked at Paxton who’d managed to regain his stool.

“Who’re you?” Michael asked.

“I’m Paxton Jedidiah Johansen,” Paxton said, holding out his hand to the other man. “It’s nice to meet you. And I love that shirt. It really compliments your forearms. And those biceps are stupendous.”

I rolled my eyes.

Could Paxton be any gayer?

I mean, the least he could do was act like he wasn’t gay. Maybe make these guys think that I’d moved on from Bennett. But ohhh, not Paxton. He couldn’t even pretend!

Michael’s satisfied smile turned to me, completely ignoring Paxton and his come on.