“I don’t know,” I said honestly. In fact, I was missing at my own house party at this very minute. My phone, switched to silent, had been blowing up. “I guess that scene gets old after a while.”

“What, you don’t like having a crowd of doting fans throw themselves at you? That seems like it would be right up your alley.”

Honestly, being here with her, getting the gears, was far more appealing than being surrounded by a bunch of people who didn’t actually know me but claimed to think I was great because I could hit things with a stick.

I swallowed a bite of my burger. “Don’t you ever find it…superficial? That whole scene?” I asked. “We’re joined together by this single common thread, but otherwise, I’m not sure most of us would even be friends.”

She should know, as it looked like she was about to be ex-communicated by Captain Dickhead. I’d seen it happen before. But she hadn’t grasped what was coming yet, which made me feel bad for her. She didn’t deserve that.

“Deep thoughts from Carter over here,” she said. “I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Life of the Party. Don’t all the Falcons love you?”

“Ha, no. Ward and I are solid. And Tyler’s cool, odd duck that he is. But I’m pretty sure half the team would throw me under a Zamboni if they thought it would help them make the league.”

Bailey blinked slowly at that. “Okay.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Did you seek me out at the bar because you knew who I was?”

“No, I didn’t know. Not until you came back, anyway.”

“But you came up to me tonight to piss off the team,” she said.

“Honestly?” I pinned her with my gaze. “Partly. But also, it looked like you could use a friend.” When I’d walked out of the locker room, that stricken look on her face was all I could see. It pissed me off, especially because that douche Morrison had put it there. I couldn’t not do something.

She bristled. “I have friends.”

“And what were they doing while your ex was parading that chick around right in front of your face?”

Another flinch. Maybe I should filter my thoughts around her. I never really had, but surely I could learn.

“Amelia and Jillian are caught in the middle,” she said, looking down at her plate of food. “I’m sure this whole situation isn’t easy for them.”

An odd pang tugged at my gut. Sympathy? Pity? It was unfamiliar, and I didn’t like it. At any rate, these friends of hers sounded shitty.

“It’s nice that you’re thinking about their feelings,” I said. “But who’s thinking about yours?”