by Erika Wilde
Grant was respectful, easygoing with a great sense of humor, attentive and affectionate when they were together, and came from a close-knit family with a dozen nieces and nephews he seemed to adore. So far, there hadn’t been any huge warning signs flashing at her, and she was determined to stay positive and enjoy her evening out with him at the pub.
She opened the door and Grant greeted her with a smile and a bouquet of pretty daisies. He was a good-looking guy with dark brown, neatly trimmed hair and light blue eyes that sparkled behind the black-rimmed glasses he wore. He was a few inches shorter than Dylan, and much leaner, his chest not as defined or broad . . . and God, she had to stop making comparisons between the two because there was no future with Dylan, so it no longer mattered how attractive he’d always been to her.
Once Grant stepped inside her apartment, he held the flowers out to her. “I saw these and thought of you.”
She took the lovely blooms from him, easily adding considerate to his list of attributes. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“No, you’re the beautiful one,” he said, brushing a soft, sweet kiss against her lips, with no expectation of anything more than that chaste peck—because he was a gentleman, she told herself.
There was no zing or spark or wild urge to tear Grant’s clothes off and jump his bones. And yes, they’d already kissed with tongue, which had been nice and pleasant enough, but lacked the crazy hot chemistry she’d had with Dylan in Vegas, and she’d pretty much resigned herself to the fact that she might not ever find that kind of intense passion again. It was a sad realization, but an honest one, too.
She went to the kitchen and put the daisies in a vase with water so they wouldn’t wilt. Once that was done, she turned back to face Grant, who was standing a few feet away, his hands in the front pockets of his khaki pants, waiting patiently for her to finish.
“Ready to go?” he asked. “I want to make sure we’re not late for the start of the game.”
And punctual. Serena gave her date a nod as she picked up her purse from the counter. She was about as ready to finally face Dylan as she’d ever be.
Three fucking agonizing weeks, Dylan thought as his fingers tightened around the cold bottle of beer the bartender at the pub had just slid across the counter to him. That’s how long it had been since he’d seen or spoken to Serena, when they’d previously never gone more than a few days without some kind of contact, even after an argument.
But this separation between them hadn’t been for a lack of trying on his end. His calls went straight through to voicemail, and because it irritated the hell out of him that Serena didn’t pick up, he never left a message. He’d texted her a few times, only to get a short, to-the-point answer. He hated how impersonal her responses had become, how distant they’d become.
He’d sent the latest text a few days ago in hopes that getting back to their normal routine would finally put their friendship on the right track again. What time should I pick you up for trivia night? he’d asked. Since they’d always driven together and were game partners for the once-a-month event, it was a logical assumption and a great way to break the ice. Or so he thought.
Waiting for her response had been excruciating, and her reply made him feel as though he’d been gut punched. No need. I have a date and he’s taking me.
What. The. Fuck. That had been his immediate internal reaction. She was bringing a goddamn date when trivia night had always been their thing. Together, as a team, they usually kicked everyone else’s ass and were the current reigning champs. Now, they’d be competing against one another.
Jesus. Everything that was comfortable and routine and familiar with Serena had pretty much gone to shit since he’d taken her to bed and he was all out of sorts because of it. He’d tried to do the right thing the morning after their night together, but there was no denying that he’d fucked everything up and his most deep-seated fears were coming true, that crossing those lines with Serena had changed the whole dynamic of their relationship.
Nothing was the same between them, and the worst part was, he missed his best friend like crazy and felt as though a crucial part of himself had been severed, and he had no clue what to do to fix the damage he’d done. The loss ate at him, consumed him, and made him prickly and moody in general.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan saw someone enter the establishment and glanced toward the entrance to the pub, hoping to see Serena, even if she was with another man. Instead, Eric strolled in, spotted him sitting at the bar, and headed his way, passing the other customers gathering around to sign up for the game.
“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this,” Eric said as he slid into the chair beside Dylan’s. “Just as full disclosure, I fucking suck at trivia games.”
“You can just sit there and look pretty,” Dylan said, motioning for the bartender to bring Eric a beer, too. “I don’t need your brain, just your presence. I can’t play without a partner, and since Serena is bringing someone else, I had to settle for you because you were the only person available tonight.”
“Wow, that kind of hurts my feelings,” Eric joked as he took a drink of the beer that had just been delivered. “I take it you and Serena haven’t kissed and made up yet after what happened in Vegas?”
“No,” he snapped irritably, watching as a few more customers walked into the pub and stopped at the sign-up table. “I haven’t seen her in three fucking weeks. She hasn’t returned my calls and has pretty much made me persona non grata.”
“That’s what you get for messing around with your best friend. You had to have known it wouldn’t end well.” Eric shook his head, as if Dylan was an idiot for sticking his dick where it didn’t belong, and Dylan couldn’t disagree. “Those kinds of things never end well, unless the one-night stand rules are established right up front. If not, women start expecting certain things . . . like hearts and flowers and a whole lot of attention.”
“Is that how it is between you and Chelsea?” Dylan asked curiously. The two had hit it off well in Vegas, and he had no idea if they’d dated since.
“Actually, no.” Eric shrugged casually, seemingly fine with that status quo. “Chelsea and I went into that night with the understanding that it was a one-time hookup, so no awkward morning after for us. Didn’t you do the same with Serena?”
Dylan shook his head, unable to imagine suggesting a one-night stand with Serena. “She’s not a friends-with-benefits kind of woman.”
Eric smirked at him. “Yet you enjoyed some pretty major benefits with your best friend.”
Dylan opened his mouth to tell Eric to fuck off, even if it was the truth, then promptly snapped it shut again when he saw Serena walk into the bar, looking so stunningly beautiful his heart hammered in his chest and his stomach swirled as if a dozen butterflies had taken flight inside. What the hell was up with that?
His gaze drank her up as though he’d been dying of thirst, taking in all that soft blonde hair he loved, her pretty face and bright eyes, and the demure dress that was a far cry from the racy one she’d worn in Vegas, but was so her. This was his girl, his best friend, and for a moment everything was right in his world.
Then he saw her holding hands with the guy she was with, and smiling at her date in the same way she used to smile at him, and that sensation in his belly immediately soured. They stopped at the table to sign up for the game, then Serena glanced around the bar area until she found him sitting at the bar with Eric.
She said something to her date, he nodded, and then they started walking in his direction. Dylan searched Serena’s features as they approached, desperate to see that brilliant sparkle in her eyes when she looked at him or that sweet smile that always made him feel like he was her knight in shining armor, but by the time the two of them reached the bar, all Dylan saw was a woman who was distant and guarded, her expression cool and unreadable.
“Hey, guys,” she said, her polite tone grating on Dylan’s nerves. “I just wanted to come over and say hi before the
game started and introduce you to my date.” She proceeded to acquaint Eric with the guy named Grant, they shook hands, then she turned to Dylan. “And this is Dylan, a childhood friend of mine,” she said, delegating him to nothing more than someone she’d grown up with, instead of the guy who knew her deepest secrets and fears because he’d always been there for her.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Grant said, adjusting the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.
Eric studied Grant intently. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look really familiar.”
“Have you ever been to the Espresso Cup?” Grant asked. When Eric nodded, he continued. “That’s probably where you’ve seen me. I work as a barista there, usually the morning shift during the week.”
A barista? Really? Dylan decided his nickname was going to be Coffee Bean Guy, and tried to hide the smirk threatening to appear, but Serena knew him too well and caught that smug curve to his mouth.
She looped her arm through Grant’s in full support and smiled up at him. “He’s also finishing up his dissertation for his master’s degree in psychology, and works at a nonprofit mental health clinic on the weekends.”
Okay, yeah, that was an impressive resume, Dylan had to admit, which meant Grant most likely had quite the repertoire stored up for trivia. “Did Serena tell you that she and I have been the reigning trivia champions for the past three months?”
Grant shook his head, not bothered by the fact that Dylan had just insinuated that he and Serena were closer than she’d indicated during their introduction. “No, she didn’t mention that. Probably because she didn’t want me to feel pressured to win tonight’s game.”
Serena narrowed her gaze at Dylan, obviously seeing right through his ruse. “I didn’t tell him because it doesn’t matter,” she said succinctly. “Tonight is a clean slate, so it’s anybody’s game.”
“Oooh, burn,” Eric muttered beside Dylan.
Grant settled his hand over the one Serena had on his arm, the gesture familiar and intimate. “Considering the two of you are opponents tonight with different partners, it should make for an interesting game.”
“Yes, it should,” Dylan agreed. “May the best man win.”
Serena rolled her eyes, as if to say, Really? You’re going to make this a competition because you think you’re the better man?
Why, yes, yes he was.
The person in charge of the evening’s event made the announcement for everyone to sit at their designated table so the game could start, which put Dylan across the room from Serena and Coffee Bean Guy. The rules were set. The game consisted of a total of fifty questions. The first team to buzz in with the correct answer won a point, and the points were then tallied at the end of the game to determine the winning team.
While the emcee gathered the questions for the first round, Eric glanced at Dylan, an amused smile on his lips. “So, just pointing out that you might have been a bit on the aggressive side with that last ‘may the best man win’ challenge you issued to Grant.”
Dylan glared at Eric. “Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Which seemed to be a recurring theme for him with the men Serena had dated lately.
Eric’s laugh was filled with humor. “He seems like a perfectly nice guy. Besides, you don’t know him well enough to make that judgment call, unless it’s based on your feelings for Serena, which, in that case, I completely understand why you wouldn’t like him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dylan asked, fiddling with the buzzer on the table.
“That no matter what kind of guy she dates, he’s never going to be good enough, because you want Serena for yourself.”
Dylan did want her for himself. Oh, God, he really did. But when it came to Serena, his wants and desires were selfish ones because he just couldn’t give her the things she needed and deserved, and the chance to have the kind of marriage and family she longed for was the one thing he’d never take away from her.
A loud buzzing snapped Dylan back to the present, along with Coffee Bean Guy’s voice calling out, “Big toe!” and the emcee awarding him the point for answering correctly.
“Big toe?” he asked Eric, annoyed with himself for allowing thoughts of Serena to divert his attention from the game. “What the hell was the question?”
“In the human body, what is the hallux?” Eric repeated, then gave Dylan a pointed look. “I had no idea, but I thought you said you were good at this.”
“I am good at this,” Dylan argued, watching as Serena gave Grant a high five, which was something they’d always done. “I knew that answer.”
“Well, clearly you didn’t win the point,” Eric drawled.
Dylan swallowed a not-so-nice response and positioned his hand right above the red plastic buzzer, watching as Coffee Bean Guy said something to make Serena laugh. He heard the sweet, affectionate sound from across the room and a shaft of white-hot jealousy sliced right through him.
Another loud buzz rang out, and a woman yelled, “Millennium Falcon!”
“Fuck,” Dylan swore beneath his breath, and glanced at Eric, who was trying to hold back laughter. “I take it the question was, ‘What is the name of Han Solo’s ship’?”
“Yep,” he confirmed with a nod. “You’re kind of late on the trigger though.”
“Whatever.” Dylan gave his head a hard shake to completely clear it from all distractions and focused on the next round.
The guy holding the microphone cleared his throat before asking, “In what year was the fugitive slave law—”
Buzz! The question wasn’t even finished and Serena shouted out, “Eighteen fifty!”
“That’s right,” the emcee said, impressed that she’d guessed accurately. “Eighteen fifty was the year the fugitive slave law was passed.”
Dylan groaned as she was awarded another point and did that cute, excited shimmy thing in her chair that she’d always done with him when they won a round. He’d always sucked at learning history, while Serena had minored in the subject in college. What his nerdy brain hadn’t retained from school, her more refined one had, which was why they’d always made a such a great trivia duo. Tonight, she had a partner who was holding his own, and Dylan had a teammate who didn’t seem to know shit, or didn’t care if he won. The odds were not in Dylan’s favor.
Eric chuckled. “You are so off your game tonight.”
“Yeah, well, that’s all about to change,” Dylan said, his tone serious as he cracked his knuckles and blocked out everything but the questions that were being asked. No way was he going to let team Coffee Bean walk away victorious tonight.
For the next hour, teams battled it out. With each round, the questions became more difficult and other pairs started falling so far behind on points that the emcee dropped them out of the game, until it was just Dylan and Grant suddenly having a dick-measuring contest with the two of them trying to out-trivia one another, while Serena watched the ridiculous rivalry unfold, and Eric finished off his third beer. Dylan knew he was being a chest-pounding, alpha asshole, trying to one-up her date. And he didn’t care.
“Last question coming up,” the emcee announced, pulling a card with the final trivia of the night. “We’ve got two teams left battling it out for the win. Who is going to be this month’s champion and walk away with bragging rights and a fifty-dollar gift certificate to enjoy dinner and drinks here at the pub?”
“I am,” Dylan muttered, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he positioned his hand above the buzzer once more.
Across the bar, Grant did the same, both of them poised and ready.
“What type of charge does a neutron carry?” the emcee asked.
The answer to the chemistry question was a no-brainer for Dylan, and he slammed his hand down on the button, mere seconds after Grant hit his. The guy with the microphone turned toward Serena’s date to hear his answer, while Dylan prepared himself for defeat.
“A negative charge,” Grant said confidently.
“Nooo,”
the emcee said, as shocked as the rest of the players watching the end to the game. “That is not the correct answer, which gives your opponent the chance to steal the final point and win tonight’s game if his response is accurate.”
All eyes turned to Dylan in anticipation, but the only ones he connected with were Serena’s. For a moment, all those walls she’d recently erected between them were down, giving him a glimpse of the woman who’d once desired him and made him feel whole and complete when he was with her. Until she glanced away, reminding him that he’d royally fucked up the best part of his life.
Trying to ignore the searing pain in his chest, he glanced at the emcee and stated the correct answer to the question. “Neutrons are particles with no charge.”
“‘No charge’ is accurate, which makes your team tonight’s winners!”
Eric laughed while most of the players cheered and clapped. “I’ll be damned, we won.”
Dylan shot him a mocking look. “Just for the record, you didn’t win jack.”
“Okay, that’s a fair point,” Eric conceded, and slapped Dylan on the back. “The least I can do is buy you a drink to commemorate the occasion.”
They headed over to the bar, but Dylan also watched Serena and her date, who weren’t sticking around for the celebratory festivities and were getting ready to leave for the evening. As Eric pushed a shot of high-end tequila in front of him, Dylan came to a bitter realization.
He might have won the trivia bragging rights for a month, but Grant was going home with the girl, and Dylan wished it was him instead.