Playing Hard to Get(54)

His attention is all on Natalie.

“Looks like your girl showed up,” I tell him, my voice snappy.

He sends me a questioning look. “She’s not my girl.”

“You got together with her Saturday night, right?”

“Well, yeah, but that was casual. You know how it is. Oh wait.” The sight of Derek’s shitty grin makes me want to smack it off of him. “You might’ve forgotten, considering you’re celibate and all.”

A disbelieving snort sounds and I glance to my right to find Cam standing there, his expression shifting to neutral the moment my gaze touches his smug face.

Sometimes, I hate my friends.

“Go talk to her,” Cam encourages Derek, tipping his head in Natalie’s direction.

Derek drains the glass that was in his hand, setting it on the table before he leaves us and makes his approach. We watch him, the way he strides right up to Natalie, his head bending toward hers, his smile slow, his hand reaching out to lightly touch her elbow.

She steps back, her eyes flashing, her mouth moving a mile a minute and that smile on Derek’s face fades.

Cam chuckles. “She’s telling him off.”

“He probably deserves it.” My attention returns to Joanna to find her watching me, but she looks away quickly, her cheeks turning red.

Busted.

“You going to approach Joanna?”

I shake my head. “And get a speech like Derek? No thanks.”

“Didn’t she already tell you off?”

I really wish I had another drink right now. “She’d probably take her opportunity to do it again.”

“Women,” Cam mutters, shaking his head.

“Right? They’re the worst.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Right now I do.” I grip the edge of the table, sliding off my chair. “I need another drink.”

“You should probably have some water first.”

“Stop trying to keep me sober. That’s not tonight’s goal.”

“Knox, come on…”

I walk away, not interested in hearing Cam talk about how he’s watching out for my best interests, and that while I’m allowed to be upset, I shouldn’t drown my sorrows in alcohol, especially when we have practice tomorrow.

I’ve heard this speech from him before, but it’s never been brought on due to these unique circumstances.

Approaching the bar, I smile when the bartender—a cute redhead—stops directly in front of me, a friendly smile on her face. “What can I get ya?”

“That local IP on tap and a shot of your best tequila.”

She grimaces. “You sure about that?”

What, now the bartender is trying to keep me from drinking? Is this some sort of conspiracy? “Are you really going to turn away business?”

Her friendly expression sours. “Tequila and beer isn’t the best combo.”

“I’ve got this handled.” I rap my knuckles on the counter. “You going to help me or not?”

She turns away from me, muttering prick under her breath, and I immediately feel like an asshole.

And I’m not that guy. I don’t care what Joanna says, or implies. I’m a decent human being.

Swear to God.

Within two minutes, the bartender is setting a tall glass of beer in front of me, along with a shot of tequila. I hear Derek laugh in the background, the sound of it making me wince, and I lean against the counter, tapping my finger atop the bartender’s hand.

“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” I tell her.

Her smile is faint, but her eyes are flat. She’s not buying it. “It’s okay. You want to pay now or should I start you a tab?”

“I already have one going. Put it under Knox Maguire.”

Her eyes go a little wide, recognizing my name, but I don’t acknowledge it, or her.

At least I apologized.

I settle my ass on the closest empty barstool and bring the shot glass to my lips, bracing myself before I toss it back. The alcohol slides down my throat in a fiery path, coursing through my blood before it settles in my belly, warming me from the inside. I consider ordering another but nurse the beer instead.

There’s more laughter coming from Derek—it’s easy to hear that annoying snort laugh above everything else—and I turn around on the barstool, watching as he continues to engage in conversation with both Natalie and Joanna.

Somehow he worked his charm on her and won her over, the lucky bastard. Natalie is just as flirtatious with him as she was last Saturday night, though now she’s in a hotter outfit and Derek can’t keep his eyes—or hands—off her. Joanna stands between them and a few steps back, her gaze ping-ponging back and forth as the couple flirts and laughs. She’s got a glass in her hand and when she brings it up to her lips, I catch her staring.

At me.

I don’t look away, leaning my elbows on the counter behind me, trying to look relaxed. Like I’ve got all night for her to approach me, but my heart is pounding and the blood is roaring in my ears.

Damn it, why won’t she come talk to me?

She never will. I realize quickly that she’s not going to approach me, so I spin around on the stool, grab the beer and down it before I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. The bartender walks by me, stopping short when she spots my empty glass.