“I get it,” I grunt as we sit at a table near the back next to a row of several pool tables. Yeah, how do I compete with a rock star? One she married.
Sawyer takes a swig of his beer. “Does she have any clue?”
I pause mid-sip of my water. “About?”
“How long you looked for her? Or the fact that you didn’t screw anyone for months?”
“No.” My eyes watch her at the bar. “Why isn’t she coming over here?”
“She hates the contest, man. Maybe she’s going to ignore us.”
“This Theta thing is driving me crazy,” I grind out. Ashley showed up this afternoon to “check on me” and bring us donuts. First, I don’t eat a lot of sugar during the season, but I accepted them politely. Then, she plopped down at the kitchen table and rambled for an hour about her audition for a local musical. I was in the middle of studying and wanted her gone. Finally, Bambi texted her and they left for a sorority meeting.
He grimaces. “I’ve noticed, but we need to stick to our guns. We did the contest last year and won a national championship. The guys will freak out if we change anything—”
“I get it,” I say sharply. “It’s a big deal, but it shouldn’t have been me. I’ve got enough on me with football. Sinclair can take my starting spot at any moment.”
He grows quiet, studying me. “Dude. I know you’re wound up this season, and I wish I hadn’t suggested you. You’re right. It should have been me or Troy or someone else. We’ve won our first two games. Just hang in there.”
I sigh. “It’s fine. I can manage it.” I have to. “Once it’s over, though, I don’t want Ashley around. Feel me?”
He nods.
Chantal walks in and makes a beeline for Serena. I watch as they hug then do their secret handshake. Serena picks up one of the shots she ordered and puts it in Chantal’s hands, and they throw them back. Serena leans over the bar, waving at the bartender, and two more appear—just as four Kappa guys circle around them. Serena smiles at them, and jealousy spears me in the gut.
Fuck that.
I stand and head her way, barreling through the crowd. I’ve decided. No more messing around. She might send me in a tailspin, but I’m willing to take a chance. I pat the gift in my pocket, checking to make sure it’s there.
14
Dillon’s leg is pressed against mine as we sit at the table, his hand around the back of my chair as he leans back. His fingers idly play with my hair, unseen by the others, but oh, I know it’s there, the little circles he periodically brushes against the bare skin of my back. I’m strong though. My breathing is regulated, careful and slow, even though every nerve ending he touches is connected directly to my core. Have I thought about us in the kitchen about a billion times? Yeah. We’ve been waiting for a pool table to open, and the minutes next to him are driving me crazy.
“You want another drink?” he whispers in my ear.
Two tequilas in and I’ve got a warm buzz, so no. Must maintain control. I slant my eyes toward him. “I can get my own.”
His gaze lowers, skating over the cleavage of my silk top. “I want to do things for you.”
“Trying to get me drunk?”
A slow smile eases over his face. “I want you fully aware when we go at each other again.”
“There won’t be another again.” I smile.
“So you say. Win this game tonight and you can have whatever you want.”
“I’d rather knock myself in the face with a cue stick.”
“Damn, I like your smart mouth.”
I set down my iced water just as Ashley comes back from the bathroom.
Troy walks up from the bar with a drink and plops down next to Chantal. He edges closer to her, and she gives him a cool look but doesn’t move away.
“Why are you wearing all black?” Chantal asks him. “Where’s your cowboy hat? You always wear it out.”
“I left it.” He frowns and sits straighter, smoothing down his dark shirt. He touches his hair then drops his hand. “Um…” His throat bobs and he darts his eyes around the room. “Just… What’s wrong with my shirt?”
She sniffs. “Nothing.”
He picks up his beer and takes a long swig.
I smirk at the memory of Dillon showing up at the bar earlier, elbowing his way through the frat boys. He smiled at them tightly, nodding at their pats of congrats on the games, then threw his arm around me, pulled me close, and brushed his lips over mine—right there in front of everyone. Claiming me! He even let it drop that I was there with him. I glared at him, but he looked so damn pleased when the guys left abruptly that I could only shake my head. I’ve softened since we’ve been sitting here. It’s clear he doesn’t want Ashley. The man keeps looking at me.
I refocus on Sawyer as he explains how we’re going to play pool with three players. “…pool game we made up one night, a version of Cutthroat, but easier. We call it Crazy Three. Since you’re new, you’ll go first, Serena, and break. If you hit a low ball, 1 through 5, those are yours and what you want to pocket. You don’t have to call them unless you want to.”
“It’s been a while since I played,” I say evasively.
Ashley, who’s sitting across from us, smirks. “I can call them,” she gloats. “We have a table at the sorority house.”
Bambi says with a sigh, “Ashley’s good.”
Sawyer tugs on Bambi’s hair. “I’ve seen you play—you’re not bad.”
She blushes, dipping her face.
He continues, “If you hit a ball from 6 to 10, you’re medium, if you hit 11 to 15, you’re high. Easy peasy. We’ll play three games. Obviously, the first player to get her balls in wins that round.”
“Alright,” I say.
“Let’s get this over with,” Ashley says with a triumphant expression as she stands.
I’m muttering under my breath as we approach the pool tables. Dillon gets me a cue stick and rubs the chalk over it then puts it in my hands. “You need any last-minute tips?” he murmurs, his gaze searching mine.
“Yeah—how did I get myself involved in this?”
“I know it crawls all over you to play for me, but if we don’t participate, it might screw with our season. Some of the guys get weird about traditions.” A hesitant look settles on his face. “Sawyer, he loves it, and he’s…” His words trail off.
“Important to you?”
He gives me a slow nod. “Blaze and Ryker graduated. Sawyer is my family now.” He winces. “Plus, I can be a little superstitious myself.”
Realization clicks. “Oh my…the bonfire…and you and I…” I gape at him. “No, you can’t believe that Wiccan thing. You do! It’s right there on your face! You think we’re like, fated?”
“You have any Magnolia witches in your family tree?”
“Nana’s mom.”
“Shut up.”
“Kidding.”
“Can’t you have a good time? Just for an hour or so?” His fingers brush over my cheek. “You’re the one I want, Serena.”
My eyes fly to his. Yeah? Until he gets me, then moves on?
And why is that bad? a voice in my head replies. You don’t want a relationship.
“If you’re done flirting, come break the balls,” Ashley’s acid tone says.
Dillon ignores her and whispers in my ear, “Since the moment you walked in, I’ve wanted to kiss you.”
“You did. At the bar.”
“That wasn’t a real kiss. I just marked my territory.”
“Like a wolf,” Sawyer murmurs from behind Dillon.
I snort.
“Just you, Serena,” he says for my ears only. “I promise.”
I tense. “Promises, promises.”
“Fine. You want to leave? We can make up some excuse, walk out that door, and drive to your place, and I’ll show you what’s been going through my mind since you walked in.”
A shiver races over me. “No, Dillon, I’d show you what I want.”
His chest rises. “Da
mn.”
“Let the girl go,” Sawyer murmurs. “The rest of us are waiting.”
“Aw, they look so adorable together, don’t they?” comes Bambi’s voice as she addresses the group. “Serena and Dillon. They need one of those combo names. Dillrena?”
Chantal huffs. “Serdilla is better. Put the woman first.”
“I put women first,” Troy quips. “Isn’t that right, Chantal?” There’s a sly tone to his question and I can’t hear her muttered response, but it sounded something like Just a hook-up.
I can’t see any of their faces, but I smile, something easing in my chest. The truth is, despite Ashley’s animosity, I’ve missed hanging with friends. I needed a night out without helping Romy with her homework or paying bills.
“Watch and learn, pretty boy.” With a last look at Dillon, I duck under his arms and head their way.
Chantal gives me a fist bump. “Clean the floor with her, sister.” She nods her head at Ashley, and I smile.
I barely win the first game, and Ashley destroys me on the second.
Bambi played poorly in both rounds, not one ball making it to a pocket. Declaring herself out, she sashays over to the others at the table and settles next to Sawyer. His arm goes around her shoulders and his eyes soften.
Well, well, well.
Dillon leans against the wall, not saying much. A few girls have ambled over, soft laughter and teasing comments, but he’s brushed them off, his eyes coming back to me.
Time to focus.
Sawyer tweaked the rules since Bambi is out, and it’s now an 8-ball game.
Ashley breaks, leaning over in her red mini skirt, her shot sure and true, snapping the 9 into the top right pocket. “Stripes,” she calls, giving me a little smile. She hits another one in, causing one of the solids to go in as well.
“Oh, too bad,” I say, positioning myself for my shot. “Move over—you’re in my way,” I chirp. “In fact, take a seat and stop hovering.”
She huffs and walks away.
Lining up with the cue, I’ve got a possible shot to the right pocket, and another one, maybe getting two into the left bottom, but…
Bending my back over on the long side of the table, I aim the cue—just like someone taught me—and make the harder shot. Both solids zip in. I move to the other side, line up the 3, and hit it in the right pocket.
“Whoa,” Sawyer says, perking up.
I walk to the other side, eyeing the table. I want to avoid the 8 ball, and it’s next to the solid by the bottom left. It’s going to be tight. I lean in, stroke the cue, aim, and shoot. The solid clunks in.
“Shark. She played us,” Dillon muses. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Not fair,” Ashley says. “You aren’t calling them.”
I don’t even look at her. I snap another solid in, an easier one. “They go where I want them to go.”
“Who taught you?” Bambi asks, jumping up to linger by the table.
“I hung out in a lot of bars during my undergrad. Most of them out of town.” I played pool while the band set up, sometimes while they sang, and always while they packed up. Vane showed me tricks when he had time, his arms wrapped around me as he explained how to play. The memory doesn’t cut as deep as usual, just a soft slice, but I miss my next shot, knocking Ashley’s ball in. I grimace.
“You insinuated you were terrible,” Ashley says as she elbows me out of the way, calls her shot, and sinks one of hers.
“I’ve been known to play dirty,” I murmur.
She scratches on the next one and stamps her foot.
“Finish her up,” Chantal calls to me as she raises her glass, another tequila.
“Be sweet, ya’ll,” comes from Bambi. “Remember we’re sisters.”
Ashley tosses her hair and levels me with a narrow-eyed look as she leans over to whisper only for my ears. “Even if you win, you won’t be part of our other games, and one way or another, he’ll be mine.” Green eyes scan over me. “Dillon gets tired of his toys fast, and you’re not any different. I’ve been around him. I know exactly what he wants.”
I smile at her, shaking my head. If that’s the best she can do… Whatever. I have fond memories of my sorority sisters, supporting them and straightening their crowns, but some women don’t get it. They prefer to tear others down. I harness my annoyance and stuff it down. Stooping to her level does no good.
“I’m teaching Romy to not be like you,” I say instead.
“Who’s Romy?”
No one you’ll ever meet. I brush past her, aim my cue, stroke the wood, and slam in the next solid. Another goes in. Satisfaction settles in my gut. Vane, you dick, you were good for something.
“For the win, the 8 ball in the top right pocket,” I say.
The air crackles and I glance over at a tense Dillon then look away. Moving to the other side, I aim, shoot, and the 8 ball flies down the table, spins in the pocket, comes out for a second, then drops in.
“Oh my God, that was awesome!” comes from a squealing Bambi. She rushes me and smothers me in a hug.
Chantal whoops and slaps me on the ass, and I shriek.
Sawyer ambles over. “So, what do you want?”
“A trophy and a million dollars,” I declare.
“More tequila?” Chantal inquires. “Ohhh, ask for his shirt. It’s his lucky one.”
Dillon grimaces, the look on his face saying, I’m sorry this is beneath you.
I’m cool, I am, and I’ve had a blast. Beating Ashley trumps the particulars of the contest.
“What’s it gonna be, Serena?” Troy says.
Bambi elbows me in the ribs. “When I won at Monopoly, I asked him to watch The Notebook. Sawyer managed to stay awake. Dillon didn’t.”
“I saw enough. Saddest movie ever,” comes from Dillon.
“I made him watch Pride and Prejudice. He played Candy Crush on his phone,” chirps Chantal.
“I love that movie!” I exclaim. “Not the Colin Firth one, but the Matthew Macfadyen version.”
Dillon groans. “Boy meets girl, they butt heads, he falls for her, she misconstrues his motivations, they work it out, and live happily ever after. Bah.”
“Nailed it. You sure you didn’t watch it?” I ask.
“Call me Mr. Darcy if you want.” He does a weird bow, then puts his hand over his heart. “‘You have bewitched me, body and soul.’”
I burst out laughing. “Nice quote, but your curtsey needs work.” I straighten my posture, fix my feet in the correct positions, and execute one, dipping my knees. I place my hand over my heart. “‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a fortune, must be in want of a wife.’”
“That opening line is actually ironic. Jane Austen had a great sense of humor,” Dillon adds.
“You did watch it! Or read it?” I ask.
“I’ll never tell,” he says as our gazes cling. His face softens. “Okay, I might have read it in prep school.”
I get warm all over. A stupid smile is on my face. My family loves Pride and Prejudice.
“Y’all are weird,” Chantal says as she cocks her head, eyeing me and Dillon.
“Serena’s fault,” Dillon muses. “She brings out the cheesy in me.”
Sawyer clears his throat. “Whatever you request, Serena, we’ll do our best.”
Hmmm, decisions, decisions. Dillon wants a kiss, and maybe I do as well.
But…
I plant my hands on my hips and look at Sawyer. “This Theta tradition… Normally the winner would ask for something from Dillon, but could I ask any football player?”
“Hey now—” Dillon mutters.
Sawyer gives me a wary look, cutting him off. “I guess that would be fair since you aren’t officially part of the contest. You’ve got me and Troy here. Zane and Sinclair are at the bar. What do you want from us?”
Doing the unexpected is part of my personality, a side of me I’ve banked since Vane, and the minx within is roaring to be let off he
r leash. (Alexa, play “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys.)
I take a tiny sip of the tequila Chantal thrusts in my hands then press my fingers to my lips, pretending to think.
“Spit it out,” Ashley snips. “We all know you’re going to pick Dillon.”
I ignore her, my eyes on the wide receiver. “Sawyer, I want you to kiss Bambi.”
I’m greeted with silence.
Bambi sputters, Sawyer blinks, and Chantal grins. Troy looks confused.
I throw my head back and chuckle, catching Dillon’s eyes, and we have a weird moment when he pauses, a slow smile of appreciation growing on his face as he stares. I feel tingles, as if he’s brushed his fingers over my skin.
He lifts his glass in my direction. “Touché.”
“You didn’t have to walk me to my car,” I tell Dillon as we maneuver through the crowded lot to my Highlander.
“Let me follow you home.”
“No. I’m not buzzing, and I have work to do.”
‘“Bigfoot Is A Pool Shark?”’
“Nice. It’s in the queue.”
He threads his fingers with mine. “I’m good at several things.”
We reach my car. “I have a feeling where this will go…”
His hand tightens. “Nah, get your head out of the gutter. First, I can cook. My chili is the best. Sawyer begs me to make it. My omelets are ugly but good—I use the good cheese. I’m a good friend, loyal. I’m tidy. My room is the cleanest at the house. I, uh, like the stars. There are so, so many stars in the sky at night.” He exhales and closes his eyes briefly.
“So many,” I can’t help but deadpan.
He mutters, “I swear, I’m not this awkward.”
I bite back a smile as he continues.
“And running, yeah, it helps me figure things out. I dig nature, like mountains and stuff. There aren’t any mountains here, of course, just flat plains. Jesus, I suck!”
I’m entranced by his struggle.
“Anyway, um, long story short, I enjoy giving presents.” He holds out a package and sets it in my hands slowly, as if it might explode.
“What…” I stop and look up at him. “You got me a gift? Why?”
I Promise You Page 14