As done as I am with today, I hit the bar with the rest of the team. As usual, Kingston orders a glass of milk and I grab a beer. A handful of people we went to college with show up, which means one beer turns into several. I keep checking my phone to see if Stevie’s responded, but nothing so far.

On my way back from the bathroom I stop at the bar. I should probably stop drinking soon, or tomorrow isn’t going to be awesome, but Stevie’s lack of communication and my inability to take action are making me antsy.

Someone edges their way between me and another guy waiting at the bar. The perfume is familiar, and I glance over at the woman crowding my personal space.

“Shippy! I thought it was you! Couldn’t forget that back-end view if I tried!”

Shit. This is the last thing I need after today. “Penny.”

Her lipsticked smile grows wider, likely at my displeased expression. “Don’t worry, Shippy, I’m not here to start problems.” She flashes her hand in front of my face, diamond ring glinting in the dimly lit bar.

“Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?” At least I don’t have to worry about her hitting on me.

“Chuck Peterson. Owns the real estate company in our hometown. You remember him, right? He’s got billboards all over town these days. Biggest agent in the city.”

“That’s great.” Obviously nothing has changed since she and I broke up: always about status, money, and flash.

I order myself a beer and offer to buy her whatever she wants, because it means I’ll get rid of her faster. Of course she wants some kind of fancy-ass drink. Her eyes light up and she slaps my chest. “Let’s get a selfie! Chuck will be so jealous that he missed seeing you and King!”

She pulls out her phone and hugs my arm, making that weird face all women seem fond of these days. I let her take the stupid pictures—otherwise she’s liable to make a scene—and I even try to smile so I don’t look like a complete asshole.

Thankfully, the drinks appear, so I toss some money on the bar and get my ass out of there before she can corner me again and make me take more selfies. I head for a table in the corner where Kingston is holed up with friends from college.

I’m about to take a seat when someone grabs me.

“What the hell, man?” Rook seethes.

I look down at his hand wrapped around my arm. “What the hell, what?”

His lip pulls up in a sneer. “You think this is some kind of joke?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You and the goddamn bunnies. There’s a viral video of you and Stevie, and this is how you manage it, by making her look even worse?”

I thumb over my shoulder. “I went to college with these guys.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better, when you’re posing for selfies with some chick in a bar but you were macking on my damn sister four days ago?”

“You really don’t know shit, Rook.”

“Like hell I don’t. She’s a mess over this. Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage? Is there anyone you think about other than yourself?” Rook is all up in my space, just as agitated as me.

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re the reason she’s not talking to me. You’re the goddamn problem, Rook.”

“I’m the problem? I should’ve beat your ass weeks ago.”

“Hey, guys, you need to cool it unless you want to end up on suspension.” King tries to get us both to take a step back, but we ignore him.

I’m tired of Rook and his bullshit. Tired of people taking the things I want. “You think I give a shit about a suspension right now? Fuck that. You wanna throw down, Bowman, then let’s throw down.”

His cheek tics. “You’ll be in traction by the time I’m done with you, ass clown.”

“Pretty sure it’s gonna be the other way around.” I’m so pissed off right now there’s a haze of red clouding my vision. I recognize, somewhere in the back of my head, that my decision-making skills are highly compromised by the unusual quantity of alcohol I’ve consumed tonight, Rook’s asinine accusations, and the fact that Stevie is dodging me.

But I’m sick of bowing for everyone else, of backing down and walking on eggshells. I’ve followed every rule, toed every fucking line, and I’m done worrying about everyone else and what they want and need.

Rook tips his chin toward the exit. “Let’s take this somewhere without eyes.”

I clench and release my fists, mirroring his grin. “Sounds good to me.”

We leave the bar, with King and a couple of other guys trailing behind us. I’m pretty sure we have the same idea: find a quiet dark alley to kick each other’s asses in. We end up by the garbage dumpsters. It’s warm here, and the smell of rancid food makes us gag.

“Guys, this is a really bad idea,” King says before I let the door slam closed in his face.

He wrenches it open. His expression is one I haven’t seen before as he steps out into the alley. His nose wrinkles at the putrid smell, but he crosses his arms and leans against the closed steel door. “I’m here to mediate.”

Rook and I both look at him, then focus on each other.

“I told you to keep your hands off my goddamn sister, and you didn’t listen,” Rook snarls and then settles into what seems like a fighting stance.