The Wrong Game

by Steiner, Kandi

  Before I could respond, our wide receiver made a catch, and my eyes snapped to the field. “Go!” I yelled. “Go, go, go!”

  Everyone in our section was on their feet, cheering the receiver on as he ran toward the end zone our seats were at. He was taken down at our twenty, running the ball for a full thirty-two yards.

  “Yes!” I was screaming, throwing high-fives around to everyone wearing a Bears shirt.

  This. This was what I loved about being at the game, instead of watching from a bar or my couch. Everyone cheered together, and we were all invested.

  “Hell yeah!” I screamed, bumping fists with a young kid behind me. When I turned to Zach, I high-fived him before I realized I’d done so, immediately yanking my hand away and glaring at him.

  “Now I see why Janet and Roy said these were the best seats in the house.”

  Warmth trickled down, like his words were rain and they’d fallen from a cloud above my head. I hated the way my stomach tilted, the way my throat tightened, all because of the way he looked at me.

  The way he’d looked at me since the day we met.

  I didn’t respond, leaning in to Ben again, instead.

  “Hope you’re practicing those stripper moves,” I teased, sticking my tongue out at Ben.

  He laughed. “Hey, don’t go making assumptions now. The game’s just getting started.”

  I squeezed his arm, the high from the play still running through me as I picked up my beer again. And as I took the next sip, my eyes skirted to Zach, and I couldn’t help but think of how right Ben was.

  The game was just getting started.

  But I already knew how it would end.

  Zach thought he was so smart, showing up at the game unannounced, buying the tickets next to mine. He thought he’d have my full attention, but that’s where he was wrong.

  Two could play this game.

  In addition to helping me focus on what I could control, my grandfather also taught me the value in being both patient and competitive. I’d always thrived on competition — with myself, with others. So, add Zach’s attempt to thwart my plan to my innate desire to prove to him — along with everyone else — that I could do anything I set my mind to, and I guess you could say he had absolutely zero chance.

  I made it my mission to make him feel as invisible as possible, ignoring his flirty and sarcastic comments and focusing solely on Ben. I’d lean into him, touch his arm, laugh at his jokes — and any time he left to go get us beers, I went with him, not giving Zach the chance to have me alone.

  At first, Zach seemed to take it as a challenge. He made a few smart-ass comments about Ben’s job and hobbies, all while saying it should have been illegal for me to bring a Lions fan into a Bears game with my season passes.

  I didn’t disagree with him on that one.

  But by the third quarter, Zach had grown quiet, sipping his beer with a permanent scowl as he watched me from the corner of his eye. Every time Ben would touch me, his jaw would clench, fist tightening around his aluminum bottle.

  Ha! Serves you right.

  Still, the Bears were down, and that was part of the game I was not enjoying. It was early in the season, and I knew we had plenty of games coming up. But I wanted to win them all.

  I especially wanted to win this one, since I had a bet riding on it.

  “You know,” Ben teased after the Lions cleared a field goal, growing their lead from seven to ten. “Maybe we should discuss the details of this strip tease you’re going to give me. Like, do I get to pick the music?”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, earning me a deep laugh.

  “We never did decide exactly how much of a strip tease this was,” I pointed out.

  “Is there a measurement on stripping? Like, levels or something?”

  “Of course,” I answered easily, pulling up my sneaker and propping it on the seat back in front of us. “I mean, maybe I’m only going to strip my shoes and socks off.”

  “Sexy.”

  I pulled the shoe lace, untying the knot and slipping my heel out. “Mmm…” I said, biting my lip as I turned back to him. “Just a little tease for you, big boy.”

  Ben laughed, tossing his head back before he watched me again with a curious gaze. “You really are something else.”

  I smiled in return, but Zach slamming his empty beer bottle down on the other side of me jerked my attention his way. He kicked back in his seat, arms folded over his chest with his eyes on the field.

  “You okay over there?” I asked, and I couldn’t hide my satisfied smirk.

  “I’m great,” he clipped. Nodding his chin toward Ben, who was now watching the Bears set up for the next play, Zach lowered his voice. “You can’t really be serious with this guy.”

  “What? He’s funny. And charming.”

  “And about as interesting as a tumbleweed.”

  I fought back a laugh, because as much as I hated to admit it — Zach wasn’t wrong. Ben was sweet, and he was able to joke back and forth with me. But during halftime when he’d talked for twenty minutes about his seashell collection from around the world — complete with photos of every single one — I’d had to actively try not to yawn.

  He was a little weird, but hey — he was hot. And, he was exactly what my plan called for.

  “Sounds like someone is a little jealous,” I said, draining the rest of my beer.

  “Sounds like someone is trying to make me that way.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” I argued. “Other than exactly what I told you I’d be doing at every home game this season. It’s not my fault you decided to buy tickets to watch.”

  Zach smirked, his eyes still not meeting mine. “Whatever you say. I’m sure you’re genuinely having so much fun with a Lions fan, who’s only joke he can keep going with you is about this stupid strip tease.”

  I coughed. “Jealous.” I coughed again.

  Zach looked at me then, leaning over until his mouth was just inches from mine. His eyes flicked down to my bottom lip, then back up to my eyes, and he gave me a sideways grin. “Hard to be jealous of a guy who’s just trying to get something I’ve already had.”

  That same hot breath I’d felt between my thighs brushed across my lips, and I inhaled it, eyes fluttering into a series of blinks. I glanced at his lips, but yanked my gaze away just as soon as I’d let it fall.

  Zach sat back again, still grinning. “Whatcha thinking about there, Gemma?”

  I flushed, reaching for my beer to take a drink before I remembered it was empty. Zach chuckled, and I glared at him, slamming my empty bottle down just the way he had before leaning back into Ben.

  I slipped my arm under his, wrapping my hand around his bicep as the Lions called a timeout on the field. “So, Ben,” I said, loud enough for Zach to overhear. “Tell me more about yourself.”

  Ben smiled. “Well, did I tell you I do CrossFit?”

  “How fascinating,” Zach murmured, and I subtly kicked him, never taking my eyes off Ben.

  “You didn’t! That explains all these muscles,” I said, squeezing his arm. “Tell me about it, I’ve never done a class.”

  “Well, so every class is different,” Ben started, but then the crowd around us grew louder, and someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “You’re on the kiss cam!” the woman said. “Look!”

  She pointed to the screen, and sure enough, there Ben and I were — framed by a heart with little lipstick kiss graphics floating around us.

  Ben stared at the screen, his eyes wide.

  “Kiss her, man!” someone yelled, and Ben turned to me, something of a terrified smile on his face.

  I leaned in closer, closing my eyes…

  But nothing came.

  The crowd groaned in unison, and when I opened my eyes, Ben was still looking at me, but hadn’t moved an inch. I glanced at the screen, which had moved on to a different couple.

  “I’m sorry,” Ben said quickly, taking off his hat and running his hands through his da
mp blond hair. “I just, I get so shy in situations like that. I froze. I’m sorry.”

  I swallowed, forcing a smile even though I just got rejected on the jumbotron in front of tens of thousands of people. “It’s okay,” I assured him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Don’t stress about it.”

  The words didn’t even have time to roll off my tongue before that damn camera was on us again.

  “Kiss her, dude!” a kid yelled from a few seats over from Ben.

  Then, a chant broke out in our section.

  Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

  Poor Ben looked at me with eyes as wide as saucers, sweat beading on his forehead. He licked his lips — not because he was turned on, but because he was nervous as hell. And I nodded, encouraging him that it was okay.

  But before he could lean in to seal the deal, a hand wrapped around my waist from behind, yanking me in the opposite direction.

  I didn’t have time to process it all — the hand sliding into my hair, the other arm pulling me flush against his body, the crowd going wild.

  No, I didn’t realize any of it was happening — not until my hands were fisted in his jersey, my mouth opening more to let his tongue inside, a moan rumbling up my throat at the feel of such a passionate, possessive kiss.

  But it wasn’t Ben’s lips on mine.

  It was Zach’s.

  The crowd cheered even louder when he pulled back, and my eyes fluttered open, hands still wrapped in his jersey as he held me.

  Zach brushed my hair away from my face, knuckling my chin. “Yep,” he breathed, low enough that only I could hear. “Just as amazing as I remembered.”

  My heart somersaulted, a flurry of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. I searched his dark eyes, body leaning in for more on its own account.

  And then, I realized what I was doing.

  With my hands still in his jersey, I tossed Zach back with a scoff. “Oh, my God, Zach!”

  He just held his hands up, smile crooked up with that damn dimple showing.

  “I’m so sorry, Ben,” I said hurriedly, turning back to him with my face red for a completely different reason.

  Ben’s jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on Zach.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what was happening. The camera was on and everyone was cheering and—”

  “Not cool, man,” Ben said to Zach, ignoring me.

  “What?” Zach said, leaning back. He stretched his arm over the back of the chairs, leaving one of them around me. “You hesitated. I was just giving the crowd what they wanted.”

  “Zach!” I whisper-yelled, thumping him across the chest.

  “I’m going to get another beer,” Ben said, standing.

  I stood, too. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” he said quickly, glancing at Zach again before his blue eyes fixed on mine. “You should stay.”

  When he left, the rows around us broke out in a mixture of ooooh’s and laughs. Janet waved at me from her row, pointing at Zach and holding up two thumbs-up signs.

  “I like him better,” she mouthed.

  I groaned, plopping back down in my seat after I peeled Zach’s arm from the back of my chair. I kicked back, crossing my arms and watching the field.

  “I would say I’m sorry, but…”

  “Shut up,” I clipped, cutting Zach off.

  The ball was snapped, and I watched from what felt like another universe as the Lions intercepted our pass, running it back the other way seventeen yards before they were taken down. I barely registered it, though. Instead, my fingertips floated over my lips — lips that Zach had just kissed like he owned, like they weren’t even mine to offer to anyone else.

  I closed my eyes, forcing a breath that was meant to calm me but just made my heart beat faster.

  You’re still in control, Gemma, I tried to tell myself. It was just a little kiss.

  I glanced at Zach out of the corner of my eye, and my stomach flipped again, hands itching to run through his stupid, messy hair — the way they had one week ago.

  Totally in control.

  This time, I laughed out loud.

  Zach

  Okay, maybe the kiss was too far.

  I was man enough to admit when I was wrong, and while in the moment it seemed like a romantic, hero-like thing to do, I realized after that it was a little over the line. She was here with another guy, and I’d embarrassed them both.

  Though, I really felt like it was him I’d mostly shamed. If anything, it would have been worse for Gemma if I had just sat back and let her get rejected — for a second time. The crowd ate it up, me stealing Ben’s kiss.

  But Gemma, on the other hand…

  She sat beside me with her arms crossed after Ben went up to get more beer, breathing like a dragon as she watched the field. She hadn’t reacted to the last few plays, so I wasn’t sure she was even watching at all. She was just staring.

  And probably thinking of all the ways she could murder me.

  To an extent, my plan was working. I’d thrown her when I showed up, and even with her best attempts to ignore me and prove a point that she was here with Ben, I knew I was getting under her skin.

  She liked me.

  She might not want to admit it, and she clearly didn’t want to submit to it. But, I wasn’t alone in my feelings for her.

  Still, I’d crossed a line, and I wasn’t sure where I was anymore. Was I still in the persistent, flirty gray area I’d aimed for? Playing her own game against her, trying to get another date?

  Or had I crossed over into Creepersville, not taking her clues to leave her the hell alone?

  Sighing, I shifted my weight until I was leaning toward her. Gemma moved to rest on the opposite side of her chair, and I let out another deep sigh.

  “Look, I’m sorry.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “No,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her knee. She glared at that hand like she could set it on fire with her gaze before she finally looked at me. “I’m serious, Gemma. I really am sorry. That crossed a line.”

  She watched me, eyes flicking back and forth between mine suspiciously. But, she must have seen the sincerity there, because she let out a long breath, shoulders rounding forward.

  “Yeah. You really did.”

  “Look, I realize now that what I did, buying these tickets… well, it might have been a little crazy.”

  “You think?”

  I gave her a pointed look. “But at the time, I just wanted another shot with you.”

  She tossed her hands up with a dramatic eye roll. “It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. Did you not hear anything I said when I explained what my plan for the season was, or did you just choose to ignore it all?”

  “I heard every word, okay?” I shook my head. “I just thought after last week, after the night we had, that maybe you’d change your mind.”

  Gemma didn’t respond to that.

  “I can leave,” I offered. “If you really want me to. I’ll go right now.”

  “No,” Gemma said on a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, you bought the tickets, you should stay and enjoy them. Just,” she said, holding up one finger. “Don’t pull that again. Deal?”

  I smiled, because it didn’t matter that she was telling me to keep my hands to myself. She wanted me to stay — and that was a win.

  “Deal.”

  We sat in silence for a while, Gemma checking behind her a few different times to see if there was any sign of Ben. Each time she turned back around without seeing him, she sighed, tapping her little sneaker on the back of the chair in front of her.

  “He’ll be back,” I assured her.

  “Doubtful.”

  “He will. I mean, the guy may be about as interesting as a clump of dirt, but he’s not stupid. And trust me when I say he’d have to be an idiot not to come back.”

  Gemma pulled her long hair over the shoulder opposite me, running her fingers through it as she glanced at me through her lashes.
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  And when she looked at me like that, I hoped like hell that guy would never come back.

  I wanted her for myself.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer spoke as all the screens filled with the American flag. “Please rise as we honor a local soldier in the salute to service.”

  I was immediately on my feet, clapping loudly as everyone slowly made their way to stand. The announcer went on about the woman being honored on the field, and with every word, I felt a surge of pride. Her name was Hazel McCoy, and she was a member of the United States Navy who had just returned from her fifth tour.

  My chest squeezed a little as I watched her accept an honor from one of the leaders on the field, her husband and two boys standing beside her. When she teared up, waving at the fans — I couldn’t help but tear up a little, too.

  I felt Gemma’s eyes on me when the salute was over, everyone taking their seats again.

  “Go ahead,” I said, widening my eyes to keep the water brimming inside them from leaking over. “Take whatever crack you want.”

  “I wasn’t going to say a thing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She smiled, but then her face softened, eyes searching mine. “You’re just a big softie under all that sarcasm, aren’t you?”

  I chuckled. “I’m only a softie when it comes to three things, and the military is one of them.” I reached for my beer, something to give me back a little of my manhood, but I remembered once it was in my hand that it was empty. “Any chance your boyfriend there might be bringing back a beer for me, too?”

  Gemma cocked a brow, pursing her lips. “What do you think?”

  “Yeah, no chance.” I sighed, but held onto the empty bottle, anyway. “My dad was in the Army for almost thirty years,” I said, avoiding her gaze. “He sacrificed a lot for our family, for our country. I don’t know. I guess I just know a little better than most what kind of things you have to give up in order to serve, and I respect the hell out of anyone who will do that.”

  “I think that’s sweet,” Gemma said, and I didn’t miss how she shifted her weight, leaning more toward me than away from me now. “What did he do in the Army?”

  “He was in bomb disposal.”