"Right, so..." Hightower cleared his throat, shifted his eyes to me, and flicked his fingers at the topless bartender. "Thanks for coming, Jake."

A chuckle escaped me when the woman with brown hair piled up in a messy bun behind the bar came closer and his eyes studied the ceiling. From the moment we'd stepped inside his friend's gentleman's club, Hightower was the most uncomfortable guy here. I hadn't seen him sit still for more than ten seconds at a time.

Guess I should appreciate that from my future brother-in-law.

Fuck, that's weird to think about.

Nearly nine months after he'd asked my permission, Hightower finally proposed to Ellie. She'd nearly broken my right ear drum with how loudly she'd squealed the news into my ear but I was happy for her. Just like the one condition I'd given Hightower for my permission, not that he'd asked for it when we were in Canada, I promised Ellie that I walked her down the aisle.

Didn't realize that meant I also promised I attended his awkward-as-fuck bachelor's party though.

"Another club soda?" The bartender purred out and plopped her bare, unnaturally large and symmetrical breasts onto the counter near his elbows. She glanced at me and chuckled at Logan as he shook his skyward directed head. "You know the whole point here is looking, right?"

"I'm getting married," he blurted up to the ceiling. "I don't need to look at anyone else."

Fuck, again I should appreciate this but... Why did I come here? This is so awkward.

I could've gone to spring break in Cabo with... All the house couples. That's why I'm here.

"So? Loosen up! Have some fun before then." She winked, slid herself in front of me, and similarly presented herself. "Another beer for you, handsome?"

"Whatever you want to get rid of," I spat out flatly, then roamed my eyes over her like she wanted.

With brown hair and eyes, she was pretty enough. A black pair of tiny leather shorts molded to her ass and her pink nipples, like the rest of her breasts, were unusually large. While I might've been tempted in the past, I just roamed my eyes over each cataloged imperfection, like the way her skin stretched unnaturally tight over her implants. The longer I stared, the more her cheeks flushed pink and her nipples looked like they wanted to pop off her breasts.

My lips curled up when she shoved a beer at me and squeezed her thighs together.

Still got it.

I shot her a wink, slapped some money on the bar and turned away with a cold Heineken in my hand. Never in my life had I been surrounded by beautiful, nearly naked women and been so absolutely bored. Our small assembled group of us also dodged particular topics tonight, as Hightower briefed me on beforehand.

Between my complete disinterest, Hightower's neck strain from how he refused to look at any dancer below her face level, his younger brother's beet-red face buried into something on his phone's screen since I'd greeted him in Hightower's truck, another pussy-whipped fiancé, and whatever the fuck bullshit justification Hightower's best man repeatedly gave over the phone to his girlfriend... One fact was painfully obvious.

We were the worst patrons in the whole damn club.

"So!" A tall, meaty, thick-neck guy with dirty blonde curls and a crooked nose slapped his arms around us. "Having a good time, bro?"

Hightower's high school friend and former teammate Bryce worked as a security manager here at Night Shift, a gentleman's club outside of San Jose. From the clean areas, to c-shaped black leather benches, ambient purple lighting, and oval-shaped stage with two dancers at a time, the club vibe was high end.

We're just clearly not the right clientele.

An hour into Hightower's bachelor's party, I still wasn't even sure why I was here. Ellie had called me and invited me in one of the most awkward conversations I'd ever had with her and counted my blessings that it was over the phone. At first, I thought Ellie wanted a designated driver, but Hightower didn't drink.

Mom convinced me to fly up for the weekend when she dangled one giant reminder of my past neglect, a fifteen-year old Ford Mustang Dad had towed home from his job at a car dealership. I'd tinkered with that car, rebuilt its engine, on and off for years, but it still sat and collected dust within Mom's garage.

While a part of my heart felt stabbed by my own personal decision, I donated the car to Santa Cruz High School's auto shop class. My old high teacher Mr. Pearson actually still taught there and shook my hand as I towed the car up to the roll-up entrance in his shop wing.

"We'll fix it up and sell it for future project cars." His weathered hand shook mine as the Mustang rolled off the truck and assured me that his students took over where I'd fallen off. Right when I nearly took his offer, I caught the eyes of the kid who palmed the hood and pushed it towards the scissor lift.

When my eyes dropped to his worn-out shoes, I shook my head. "If he or any other kid needs it, it's theirs. I've changed the carburetor twice but it keeps failing. Might just not be getting driven enough."

"Sounds like a challenge for Mateo here," Mr. Pearson nodded at the kid, who wiped a hand across his sweaty brow.

The flickers of excitement and appreciation in Mateo's eyes resonated in me as I drove out back home. Santa Cruz, like the rest of its county, had higher than average poverty and homeless rates. My eyes took in some of the blight I hadn't noticed much when I grew up here and the idea I helped out a local kid felt pretty damn good.

Hopefully I'm in a position where I can do more than that some day.

I blinked the memory into the back of my brain and nursed my beer with slow sips. From where Logan's younger brother Brody stood a few steps away, he looked like he wanted to crawl behind the bar and hide until we left. The kid was a wide receiver on my high school team and currently redshirted his first year at Stanford.

Among other developments that I'm apparently not supposed to discuss.

"I should call Ellie," Logan grumbled quietly and pulled out his phone, but Bryce shoved it down.

"Loosen the leash, bro. One of the private rooms opened up, have a dance at least," he offered and slapped Logan on the shoulder again. "I've got someone special waiting for you behind the black curtains, complimentary on the house."

"Fuck, Bryce..." Logan's eyes shot me a painful look, so I coughed and cleared my throat. "It's not that I can't, I just... don't want to."

Wow. Just... wow.

"Not me." Wes Brown barked out the barstool on the other side of Hightower, where he tore into a double serving of wings in a feral way that reminded me of Griff. He wiped his lips, then shook his head so fast, I was surprised it was still attached to his neck. "Charlie will have my balls if I do."

Pretty sure she already does.

"What about..." I started and looked over at the last party member, Josh Allen, Hightower's friend from high school, draft-eligible wide receiver from UCLA, and owner of the longest 'do not discuss...' items list out of all of us.

"He needs it, poor fucker," Bryce mumbled.

Just a glance over my shoulder at Josh's furrowed eyebrows and chin dipped down as his thumbs flew over his phone was enough of a 'no' that I sighed.

With a fling of my hand, I shoved Bryce's grip off me and offered, "I'll take it."

Relief relaxed Hightower's shoulders and he nodded. His friend Bryce frowned but looked back at Logan and shook his head. "Pussy-whipped already, nothing's changed since high school. What kind of magical pus-"

"Finish that sentence about my sister and I'll punch you unconscious," I warned him.

His hands flew up, palms exposed, and waved me to follow him towards a corner of the room. A small doorway was roped off and covered with a black velvet curtain. With a slight head shake, I rolled my eyes at the back of this tool's head.

Logan's hand gripped my shoulder as I stepped after Bryce's lead. "You sure?"

"Complimentary, remember?" I smirked over my shoulder. "It'd be rude not to return the compliment."

My enthusiasm wavered as I tucked my head under the black velvet curtain Bryce held open for me, then stepped down a short hallway into private room three. The small space offered just a curved black leather soft, dim lighting, and solid mirrors all over the walls.

"Have fun, she's on her way," Bryce offered and shut the door behind him.

The view of myself, reflected back a few times, unnerved me a little. All the extra time I'd put into the gym for a half-distraction, half-frustration release showed in the muscle tone under my black T-shirt and jeans. My face looked tired and, with the dead eyes that blinked back at me, bored as fuck.

With a slight creak, the door behind me opened and a topless dancer stepped in. Dark brown eyes met mine, widened as they took me in from head to toe, and her lips parted. Her black thong barely covered her bare pussy and her breasts poked right up at attention.

Her jet-black hair was bound tight in a high ponytail that hung straight down her back, her lips and eye makeup heavy from where I stood, and her tanned skinned was covered with glitter.

"You're the groom?" Her eyebrows lifted at me.

With a smirk, I sat down in the middle of the leather seat, settled my upper back down, and rested my arms wide in the seat. "I can if you want me to be."

A smile curled up the corners of her red lips as she turned and flashed me her best "asset." Her wide hips flared out in a peach-shaped curve and two round, smooth cheeks dotted with more glitter swallowed up her G-string.

She shut the door, then dropped right down to her knees. My eyes took her in as she crawled, literally on her hands and knees across a hard floor, with her nipples pointed at the floor with a slight sway in her breasts. From under lowered lashes, she purred out, "And what if I want you to be single and available?"

I exhaled sharply out my nose and deadpanned, "Then I guess we're both lucky tonight."

"Guess so." She lowered her hands, clipped off her six-inch heels, and dropped them to the floor with a thud. "I'm Jasmine."

Sure she is.

"Jake." My eyes watched with interest as her palms opened my knees, then flattened onto the floor between my feet. In a maneuver I had no idea how she pulled off, she shot her legs straight behind her, lifted her toes up to the ceiling, then hinged herself over and landed on my lap with a heavy plop and snowfall of glitter.

"Fuck, you're talented," I rasped out, more impressed she hadn't kicked me in the head or balls in the process than actually aroused.

Up close, her makeup lines were more obvious and she smelled like sugary, artificial cherry candy. Everywhere she touched on me left a trail of silvery glitter. Not that I had any interest but I knew the no-touch rule, so I kept my arms out wide and hands relaxed, even when she leaned over and trailed her nipples over my chest.

"Cute," she pulled her lips to one side and palmed my chest.

She dragged all ten fingers down my sides, her pupils pooling with heat as she lowered them down to my hips. With zero shame, she grinded the thin slit of fabric between us right up against my crotch which, embarrassingly, stayed complete mush.

"Not interested?" she teased and rubbed over me again. Warm friction erupted in all the right places with rolls and dips of her hips but my mind was nowhere in this room. Fuck, the last person I'd seen was my future brother-in-law, the least sexiest person I could have imagined.

"Guess not," I mumbled, then fished into my wallet and handed her a twenty for the song. "I'm only here one night anyways."

"I can make it an interesting one." She surprised me with a slip of paper with her digits on it, which she must have written before we came in here. I took it between my fingers for politeness and shot her a smirk on my way out, which she returned with a smoldering smile.

Her number was in the trash before I got halfway back to the bar, where I found empty seats previously occupied by the rest of this bachelor's party.

"Jake, hey," Josh, Hightower's friend and best man at the wedding, stepped into view. His brown eyes strained, red with irritation at the corners. Whether it was from either all the beers he'd downed tonight or the endless phone calls and messages he'd made to his girl Ava, I wasn't sure but the guy looked pretty trashed.

"Hey, did they leave?" My eyes scanned around the club, with zero signs of Logan, Wes, or Brody, who I'd barely talked to tonight but wanted to given the recent changes I'd heard about in his life. At nineteen, he wasn't old enough to drink so he hadn't joined us at the bar.

"Just stepped outside," Josh replied with a slight frown. He dragged one hand through his sandy brown hair and blinked up at me. "Listen, Jake I just want you to know... I didn't -"

"Have anything to do with Ethan's bullshit," I finished for him in a dry voice.

"No, I barely paid any attention, sorry," he mumbled quietly and dropped his eyes. "All I cared about was finishing the season, graduate before the draft, and -"

"I get it," I interrupted because honestly, if he'd been guilty then UCLA's investigation would've discovered that and expelled his ass along with Burke's. After what Logan told me not to discuss with Josh tonight, he dealt with enough of his own personal problems. "No hard feelings, but... uhh, sorry but I heard about your -"

"Yeah." His eyes closed and he exhaled sharply. "It's... yeah. Same for you, bro."

Wait... What did Hightower tell him about me?

A slight curiosity sparked inside me but Josh's shoulders slumped under the weight of his own shit relationship problems. Since neither of us wanted this conversation to continue, we simultaneously turned towards the door and stepped out to the weirdest sight.

Under the nearby street lamp's light, Logan's entire face looked relaxed for the first time tonight. His shoulders drew down and he laughed quietly.

"I know, baby," he said quietly with a genuine, goofyass smile that flashed his white teeth. "I don't care, that's my answer. I love everything you make except those awful seaweed smoothies."

"What the hell." I glanced back at Josh, who shrugged and frowned at Brody, who sat on the sidewalk curb with his legs crossed and eyes glued to his phone.

If he's watching porn, then he's clearly doing it wrong.

Wes stood slightly off to the side, obsessed with watching his own phone. His mouth twitched and eyes pulled wide but I had no idea what he looked at. My mouth opened to ask Brody what occupied his attention all night but then I caught sight of the video he watched. Various scenes of people dressed in white aprons as they ran mixers and ovens flashed over my eyes.

"Brody... " One of my hands absently scratched the side of my neck. "Is that... Great American Bake Off on the Cooking Channel?"

Full disclosure, I only know of that show because of Mom and Ellie.

"It's... uhh, yeah," he mumbled and his entire ears turned red. "I uhh, know someone who's competing in it this season and..."

"Someone? Just someone?" Logan teased with a hand fluffed through Brody's short brown hair. "Try former high school crush who got away."

"Oh, which one is she?" Josh stuck his head over Brody's shoulder and peered down at the screen, pretty much like I did. "Or, uhh, he?"

"No one. She's just a friend," Brody growled quietly, tucked his phone away, then glared up at his older brother. "You're one to talk about not letting someone from high school go."

"But I won her back and I'm marrying that someone." Logan smirked while I choked on my own saliva.

"Fuck, I can't go there, LT," Josh slurred out and closed his eyes. The poor guy drank more than, well, me but drowned his sorrows one beer at a time and swayed slightly where he stood. "Please."

Hightower had given me the crib notes on Josh, in terms of what to say and not to say to trigger the poor guy. His recent experiences certainly gave me a different perspective on my own shitty relationship situation.

Harper's a mess but at least we're not dealing with -

Fuck, I keep forgetting there's no 'we.'

Understandably, Logan's forehead tensed with a frown. "You okay, Josh?"

"No but... My ride's here," he offered with a cough and shuffled his feet towards a waiting car. Halfway there, he turned, walked back, and shook Logan's hand. "Good luck in the draft," he muttered quietly.

"You too." Logan slapped him on the back with a bro-hug but I caught the concern that filled his eyes as Josh lifted a hand then stumbled over to the car.

"Fuck, he's draft eligible?" I mumbled as Josh climbed inside, shut the door, then left.

"Unfortunately," was the muttered response, but I knew exactly what he meant.

Wes' head shot up from his phone and he frowned. "Don't remind me."

Every single guy on my team who intended to declare for next year's draft followed this year's combine, Senior bowl, and draft process with stalker-level interest. With the exception of Hightower, this year's quarterback stock was weak and next year projected to be even weaker.

Wide receivers are a different story for sure.

With above-average flashes of speed and top production numbers as Hightower's go-to receiver, Wes had a solid chance at being drafted, probably as a mid-to-late third round pick in my opinion. Josh Allen was a decent enough receiver, the second-best producer under Burke's mediocre, run-first offensive performances. 

Unfortunately, this year's NFL draft was loaded at the wide receiver position, so much that Griff and Evan both deferred themselves into a bonus master's degree program. While I seriously doubted either of them finished that degree, it bought them another year where their projected draft stock was higher.

Selfishly, I was stoked for another year with those two idiots. Personally, I wasn't sure what my living arrangements were yet. Given what happened last year, I considered applying for a housing loan so that I could live in an off campus apartment alone. Griff planned another year in the football house but Evan's eyes were on his own place.

If he can convince Delilah to move in with him like he wants, then that'd be a real miracle.

Logan, Brody, and I offered a pathetic wave to Josh's car as it pulled away, then shook our heads and walked back to Hightower's parked truck. Wes laughed loudly at his phone, over and over until tears shone in his eyes.

Curiosity got the best of me so I looked over his shoulder.

"What the fuck..." I mumbled as loud, girl giggles cackled out of it. The screen showed a bouncy, almost black night with an occasional outline of a bush or peek at the moonlight. "Is that...?"

"Charlie sent it to me," he admitted with a laugh that bounced his chest and shoulders. "Girls are streaking right now in Napa."

Hightower and I skidded right to a stop while Brody continued on a few steps, his eyes still on his phone. Logan and I shared an exchanged look, the same mix of curiosity and 'I probably shouldn't ask' written on his face that I felt inside.

"Don't worry." Wes looked up at Logan. "Ellie's version of streaking is apparently just wearing an apron and a smile."

One shrill, "Wooo, bitches!!!" and flash of breasts I knew anywhere, even blurry, flew by the screen.

Oh fuck, of course Harper's naked.

Suddenly, an overnight trip up to Napa didn't seem like the worst idea that popped into my mind, until I remembered Harper wasn't single anymore. The slight twitches in my cock from another round of her giggles showed it didn't care though.

"Yeah, let's just..." Wes deleted the video. "Save that for teasing at the airport."

Like the drive up here, the four of us laughably fit inside Hightower's old truck. Even with the extended cab, I felt like one of those clowns crammed into a tiny car. After I slipped into the awkwardly crowded back seat, Logan snapped his belt on and glanced at Brody, who sat in the passenger's seat ahead of me. A loud yawn escaped Wes, who sat crammed in the back with me and deleted the video Charlie had sent him.

"Don't waste your time," Hightower offered cryptically and I frowned along with Brody.

"What? Do you mean..." his brother started slowly. "Still liking her is a waste of time?"

"Fuck no," Logan cursed quietly and started up his truck. "I mean, go for it when the time is right. Don't dick around."

"I don't dick around," Brody muttered quietly and rested his elbow on the window ledge.

"I don't mean literally dick around, don't be shy," Logan clarified, then shot me a look in his rearview mirror. "If you like her then just fucking tell her. You'll be surprised how well that approach works when you actually try it."

I shot him a pair of raised eyebrows but he ignored them and pushed further, "Even if it seems like she's pushing you away, get through the bad shit and it'll be worth it."

"She doesn't have a lot of bad shit," Brody mumbled so quietly, I think he switched the conversation to between him and himself. "Any other unsolicited advice?"

Loud snores next to me diverted my eyes to Wes' reclined position, his long legs bent at an uncomfortable angle and chin smashed into his chest. I blinked for a moment at how easily he'd fallen asleep, which Hightower must have noticed because he added, "Wes does that whenever he drinks, even just a single beer."

"Huh," was all I grunted because, honestly, it was better than my state after drinking.

"And since you asked me Brody, it's solicited," Logan shot back smugly.

Even in the dark night and dashboard glow, I saw Brody's dry look as he shook his head. "You would've told me anyway."

"I give good big brotherly advice," Logan scoffed, then cleared his throat and dropped the teasing tones from his voice. The seriousness with which he spoke surprised me, "You know she's the one when you love her on her worst days."

Dryness coated my tongue at those sappy words, given my own personal circumstances, and I coughed hoarsely.

Logan's eyes flipped up at me in the rearview mirror. "I mean it, Jake. I'll take Ellie's worst days over anyone else's best ones, putting on a front to impress me, every fucking day for the rest of my life."

"Good to know," I muttered with a half-grin since he was talking about my sister and she deserved nothing less. "But save it for your vows, Hightower."

"Second condition..." Hightower ignored me, lifted his chin, and flashed me a full-on smirk. "It goes in both directions, keep someone who can tolerate your bullshit."

I just exhaled loudly out my nose at that sentiment. While I had no doubt Harper had shown me parts of herself that she hated, the rare and vulnerable emotions, at the time I was initially confused but also flattered. In her own, chaotic, messy way, she was beautifully expressive.

I just wish I'd been the one to pull her out of it, not some easy going placeholder.

We rode the rest of the way back to Santa Cruz in silence, with only the tires hummed over the highway sounds until Brody added to the chorus of snores.

"I meant what I said," Logan repeated as an incoming car's headlights flashed across his forehead.

"Which bullshit?" I teased at the back of his head. "The best or worst part?"

"Both," he deadpanned in a dry voice.

"And what if you bring out the worst in each other," I mumbled, more to myself than him because I probably needed to admit that obvious fact.

He went all fucking Dr. Phil on me, "You mean showing the parts of yourself that you're afraid of?"

I wouldn't say afraid I just... don't.

He was right though, which jabbed painfully into my already bruised ego. Harper had witnessed a few pivotal low moments in my life, from when my USC future hung with uncertainty to worrying that my anger was all that defined me any more as a person. She also elevated my game somehow, whether she was actually at a game or not, and just the sight of her affected me more than any other person ever had.

I just wish she trusted me.

"She does, Jake," Logan answered quietly and I mentally cursed myself for voicing that thought out loud. "You're just not seeing it, Jake."

Okay, what the fuck is everyone else seeing that I'm not? She's literally dating another guy right now.

Before I answered, he delivered one more jab that sounded more like my sister's words than his, "Don't get me started on you telling Ellie you might be seeing someone else."

"Fuck, I only said that if Harper's bringing her... whoever he is, then I'll also bring a date." My hands rubbed my forehead, then dragged over my cheeks. "Did Ellie put you up to this?"

"Yep," he didn't even flinch with that answer. "Trust me, my version is a lot shorter with fewer insults."

"Right." I leaned back and groaned quietly. "Which part should I trust you on, the part where Harper fled and acted like I don't exit or started seeing another guy?"

With zero hesitation, he shot back, "The part where she showed you her true self, the broken part, and it scared her so much that she's hiding from herself."

Damn.

"Poor kid." Logan chuckled at Brody and shook his head. "He's burning himself out."

"Riding the bench at Stanford?" I teased quietly. Logan shook his head, which prompted my curiosity, "Did he really get signed already by San Francisco?"

I'd heard rumors that Brody had accomplished something unusual for a college player, in any sport really, so I went to the direct source.

"He did." Logan's blonde-haired head nodded and his voice filled with pride. "Even if he never steps foot on the field, he's set with their signing bonus."

"Unbelievable." I whistled and shifted my eyes at Brody's snoring reflection in my mirror. "Good for him."

"Yeah..." Logan echoed quietly. "Good for him."

We sat silently for a few uncomfortable moments, until he cleared his throat and looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Jake look, I'm actually on your side. Scared of emotions aside, Harper was wrong and you deserve an apology. And the shit you've been dealt this season... you're handling it well from the outside."

Suddenly, I was painfully aware of what my 'do not discuss' items had been.

Don't talk about the privacy scandal and don't talk about Harper.

"Thanks," I mumbled quietly and rested my fist over my mouth. While Hightower's sympathy felt nice, it offered me absolutely no help in the situation.

"But stop fucking for things to happen your way," he muttered and shifted lanes. "You see a chance, don't hesitate -"

"Tell Ellie you made your fucking point," I grumbled and slid my eyes shut. 

While I knew he was right, that I deserved at least an explanation from Harper, I also knew that it was another situation where his words were easier said than done.