Read False Start (Eastshore Tigers Book 2) for Free Online Page B

know.
    “Favorite player?”
    “You got him started now,” Sommers grumbles playfully.
    Something lights up inside of me at that. Mills is talking with me about something. Anything. The fact that it’s something he’s obviously invested in is even better.
    “Probably Horace Grant. Always liked how aggressive he played.”
    It used to remind me a little of football, at least the defensive parts of it. There might not be any tackling in basketball, but Grant could throw an elbow with the best of them, and somehow manage to get away with it.
    “He learned that shit from the Bulls,” Mills says, but he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by my choice.
    We talk about basketball for a while longer, and Mills eventually asks me who my favorite LB is. I tell him Ray Lewis, and he makes a sound of appreciation. The grin on his face seems to light up his dark eyes, and I feel more of that strange warmth seep into my being.
    Eventually the whole thing devolves into a table-wide debate. Nobody excludes me from the conversation; I’m not off in the corner somewhere, holding up the wall. I’m just another one of the guys, and it feels… amazing.
    So amazing that I can’t help but want to repay them.
    As the night winds down and the one streetlight outside starts to glint a blinking caution light off the glass, I make my way up to the bar and lean over it, trying to get the bartender’s attention. There’s no one else here but our table, and after wiping out a glass, he comes over to me.
    “Need a refill?”
    “Nah, I’m good,” I say, reaching into my back pocket and pulling out my wallet. “How much of a problem would it be to put everybody’s tab onto one card?”
    The bartender raises one dark, thick eyebrow at that. He wanders over to the register and I hear a few clicks on the keys. A low whistle tells me he’s apparently stumbled on the tab totals.
    “You sure one card can cover it, kid? Your buddies over there drink like fucking fish.”
    I smile at him, holding out the card. “I’m sure.”
    He gives me a dubious look, but runs it anyway. From the clock above the bar, it’s about to be closing time; good a chance as any to close out the tab. When his brows lift, I can guess the card’s been accepted. It’s never been declined, so I’m not at all surprised.
    “All right then. Everybody who still had an open tab is covered. Just sign here.”
    He tears off the receipt, and I sign my name to it. I glance back at the guys. Sommers and Trent are in the middle of an arm-wrestling match, and I smirk. My gaze seeks out Mills, though, despite my better judgment, and I find him looking at me.
    A little touch of nervousness flickers through me. I wanted it to be anonymous. The last thing I want is to find some way to separate myself from the other guys on the team. Best to just drain the last of my drink and cut out with the rest of them so maybe it’ll all get lost in the stampede of closing time.
    “Hey, don’t tell them I paid, okay?”
    “Sure, kid.”
    I head back to the table, and Mills is still looking at me. Once I take my seat, his attention goes back to Sommers and Trent. I watch, but only half pay attention. There’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that says I probably shouldn’t have done that.
    But it’s not like it’s a big deal. A few hundred dollars isn’t huge. And it’s on a credit card, so it’s not like I have to pay it off immediately. I’m not eager to tell them I just paid for their drinks, but if it comes out, it shouldn’t be that bad.
    Right?
    I finish my Coke, then lean back in my chair. It’s late, and while we don’t have practice first thing in the morning tomorrow—thank God—I still need to get used to a set schedule so I can transition a little better once the school term starts.
    If I fail my classes, my dad will do everything in his power to revoke our deal.
    “I’m gonna head out. Thanks for inviting me tonight,” I say.
    The guys barely hear me. I