My heart gives a little kick. “I’d never imagine you’d quote Singles, Mannus.”

A strangled sound to my right snags my attention. Evan is gaping at us like he’s seen a ghost. Right. Evan. I’d forgotten he was there.

“Finn Mannus,” he says in an awed voice. “Seriously?”

Finn gives him an easy, ah, shucks grin. “Yep.”

“Wow.” Evan’s gaze pings from to me to Finn and then back to me. “You didn’t say you knew Manny.”

“I don’t. Not really.”

Jake slings an arm around my shoulders. “Oh, come on, Chess. You’ve seen us naked. I’d say that counts as knowing us, don’t you, Manny?”

Little shit. I roll my eyes as Evan’s mouth falls open again.

Finn glares at Jake. “Keeping it classy, Ryder?”

“You…” Evan looks at me. “They?”

“Naked,” Jake confirms with a nod.

“They were in the studio for a photoshoot today,” I explain, pursing my lips at an unrepentant Jake.

“Cool,” Evan says, then does a double take. His eyes go wide. “And Jake Ryder too? Fucking awesome play on fourth and ten last week, man.”

Jake grins. “Thanks. I try.”

“I can’t believe you know these guys.” Evan turns to the bartender. “You see who’s here? Finn Fucking Mannus and Jake Ryder.”

The bartender, who had been down the bar, pouring drinks perks up. “No shit.” Soon he’s leaning in, wide eyed as a kid in a toy store.

I roll my eyes again, and my gaze clashes with Finn’s. He’s not paying his fans any attention, but is watching me. Amusement lightens his expression, and for one strange moment, it feels as though we’re sharing a secret joke. “Bet you didn’t know my middle name was ‘fucking’,” he murmurs as the bartender shakes Jake’s hand.

“I’d have guessed ‘asshat’,” I tease.

Finn presses his big hand to his chest, now sadly covered in a white t-shirt. “You wound me, Chester Copper.”

Shaking my head, I incline my head toward his. “The fact that you keep calling me Chester might have something to do with it, Finnegan Mannus.”

“Actually, it’s Finnegan Asshat Mannus.”

“So I was right.”

“You’re the only one who’s figured it out.”

I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten to each other, that we were nearly nose to nose, him bent over me, his hand resting on the back of my chair. But a loud laugh bursts the little bubble we’ve created for ourselves, and a man slaps a hand on Finn’s big shoulder.

Finn’s expression tightens for a second before he turns his head to look back at whoever grabbed him.

“Manny!” the guy yells in glee. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

“Believe!” I cry, waving my hands in the air.

Finn nudges my side with his elbow. “Cute.”

I blink innocently, but don’t miss the way he keeps his arm pressed against mine, as if we’re together. His skin is warm and firm, and has my body’s complete attention. Which is wrong; I’m on a date with…fuck, not again. Edward? Ethan?

“Evan,” I mutter, pulling Finn’s attention back to me.

“No, it’s Finn,” he says, smug as hell.

He’s so tall, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “I’m on a date with Evan.”

He lifts a brow, glancing at my date, who is gesturing wildly as he talks to Jake about football stats. “Looks like it’s going well.”

“Well, maybe if someone hadn’t interrupted it…”

“You would have fallen asleep on your stool?” he offers, lightly.

I exaggerate taking a sip of my vodka, turning my back on him even as he chuckles low and close to me. The sound sinks into my skin, an unwelcome prickle that makes everything shiver.

But then he’s crowded by more fans, more slaps on the shoulder. The loss of his attention is like being pulled out from under hot stage lights. It’s cold and dark where he isn’t.

I snort into my glass and keep drinking. I’m losing it around this guy. It’s his fame I’m reacting to. That’s all. It’s normal. Normal.

Except none of the other football players I photographed today did anything for me. And none of them sent giddy anticipation fluttering through my middle.

Manly, deep laughter rumbles around me and then I hear it; the softly feminine lilt of a bunch of women on the prowl. Stiffening, I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, four women have found their way to Finn and Jake.

These women aren’t wide-eyed with fame. Oh, they’ve clearly recognized Finn and Jake, but they aren’t fazed. No, they’re sizing Finn and Jake up, looking for a good in. Hell, I’ve been part of such groups, heady college days when we’d go out in search of cute guys. It was thrilling back then, the anticipation of hooking up, maybe finding someone who I’d actually want to stick around afterwards. Now, the thought of searching makes me tired.

Pushing my drink away, I lean past Finn’s wide shoulders and tap Evan on the arm. He’s so caught up in fawning over his idols that it takes a couple of taps before he notices.

“I’m going to call it a night,” I tell him.

Relief washes over his face, though he does try. “You want me to take you home?”

“No,” I insist, needing to escape and fast. “I’m good. You have fun.”

I don’t mention seeing him again. We both know that’s not going to happen. He’s already turned back to Jake.

Grabbing my purse and my jacket, I slide off the stool. Finn, who has been mobbed by women, wrenches around and his gaze narrows on me. “You leaving?”

“Yep.”

A brunette hangs on his arm, and he slips free of her before stepping back to give me room.

“Night,” I tell him, needing a clean get away. The longer I linger, the more I’ll like him. And I know my time with Finn is akin to getting a glimpse of a shooting star.

He touches my elbow. “I’ll walk you.”

The heat of his fingertips sends little fissures of awareness skittering over my skin. I won’t pretend the attraction between us isn’t there. But it’s superficial at best. Still, I’m not surprised he wants to act on it. From the second he appeared at my shoulder, I’d known his play would arrive, a foregone conclusion with the inevitable cliché ending; hot, cocksure, famous guy bags the woman who gave him shit earlier.