Hustle (Sample and Bonus Chapters)

16: Almost/ 17: Distraction (Andrew's POV Bonus Chapter)

My fingers hook into the top of the knot of my tie and I slide it loose, but it's still too hot. My frustration sparks like a fuse when the door behind me opens. The pretentious music and conversations fill the night for a second until the door closes.

I don't even turn around, but those heels on the stone of the patio let me know exactly who's followed me, and I loosen my tie a little bit more. The tie she's been trying to adjust on me all night like I'm some fucking doll to show off.

"What the hell is going on, Andrew?" Tatum hisses as she approaches, a much different sound then the syrupy voice she adopts in front of her parents and everyone they say we need to impress- Everyone in the room I just left.

I pull at my collar, freeing a few buttons as I turn towards her with a shrug. "What? I can't step outside without permission now?"

"How much have you had to drink?" Her narrowed eyes zero in on my neck and she reaches for my tie.

"Not enough to deal with this shit." I push her hands away before she can touch me.

"What the hell?" That familiar anger sharpens her words, but she speaks low, shaking as she tries to control it. "You're still upset about last night?"

More than she knows. Last night's been replaying in my head all damn day, fueling the agitation that's swarms in my muscles.

"You know how my dad is, he's just suggesting what he thinks is best for you." She tries to defend him.

"He wasn't suggesting shit. He was ordering me, but he doesn't get to tell me what to do anymore, Tatum."

"I know, he overstepped, and I'll talk to him about that. But forget about it right now." Her anger drops away like a curtain, and her dark red lips slide up to a soft smile as she steps closer. "Think about what you want-what this is all for. Football. The NFL. There's important people in there." She nods back to the ball room and the eclectic crowd. Jocks in suites mingling with older, wealthy, influential, alumni.

While she's looking towards her father, I spot Brook's roommate with TJ and I grind my teeth as I think over what she told me, that frat fuck took Brooklyn home last night.

I should be thinking about football. I should be mad about Tatum's dad setting himself up as my financial advisor-and I am- but I'm not signing those papers. It's her that I have no handle on. No game plan. And I feel it all slipping away. I might have already lost. Except I refuse to accept that yet, even if she looked at me last night like I was the monster for hitting the guy who didn't let go when she told him to.

"Let's go back inside." She keeps her voice soft as she slips close to me.

"Go back in." I catch her hands before she can button my collar. "I need a minute."

Tatum inhales, pulling her shoulders back as she steps away. Her fists curl at her side, but she won't let her anger out here, not in view of the gala guest, but it's thinly veiled as she seethes in front of me. "All right. But clean yourself up."

She steps back inside and I watch her through the window until she joins her father's side with a bright smile.

Maybe I should do the same. Paste on a fake fucking smile and go back inside. Maybe I would if I was thinking straight. Because she's right, there are important people in there. But the liquor in my veins has me in a fuck it all kind of mood. I don't want the fake bullshit of this gala. I want something more. I want to figure out what happened to the girl who's had my mind twisted all day.

I'm already taking steps away from the patio, fading into the shadows of the party. Then I walk across campus, spinning different explanations in my mind, but nothing makes sense.