Playing Hard to Get(8)

“Fuck that guy.” Our gazes lock in the mirror and she grabs hold of my shoulders, giving me a gentle shake.

“Yes, fuck that guy. He’s the worst. You need to find yourself a new guy and make out with him tonight.” Natalie grins.

My confidence deflates, just like that. “I don’t want to make out with anyone, Nat. Not yet. It’s too soon.”

“Right, right. Okay, no making out. Just…talking with a hot guy. Maybe even exchanging numbers? Socials?

“Maybe,” I hedge.

“Baby steps, okay?”

“Yes, baby steps.” I pick up a highlighter stick that belongs to Natalie and uncap it, then dab my fingers in the shimmery cream and dab it on my cheekbones. “How does that look?”

“Oh, I love that color on you.” Natalie smiles, and I smile too.

Maybe tonight at Logan’s won’t be too awful after all.





We arrive at Logan’s an hour later, pushing our way inside through the clusters of people as we make our way to the bar. Natalie flirts with the bartender the second their gazes catch and he gets started on our drinks, causing the others who’ve been waiting to groan in protest.

“How did you make that happen?” I yell at her, in order to be heard over the music and loud conversations surrounding us.

She shrugs. “I come here way too much. He recognizes me.”

“And who exactly are you coming here with?” I know she has a far more active social life than I do, but how often is she going out to the bars?

“Friends. People from class.” She gently shoves my shoulder. “You should come with us more often.”

“I might.” I’m lying, and she probably knows it. The bar scene has never really been my thing. But maybe I never gave it a chance…

Glancing over my shoulder, I check out all of the people surrounding us, shocked by how packed it is. There seems to be an equal mix of females to males, the majority of them clutching glasses or beer bottles, locked in flirtatious conversations.

Logan’s is the premier hookup bar downtown. As in, you can easily find someone to get together with at Logan’s. Plus, you can’t beat their drink prices. They have some of the best in town, and the Monday night specials bring everyone out.

Clearly, judging from the crowd.

We’re still waiting for our drinks when the double doors at the entrance swing open, an entourage striding in that immediately earns approving shouts from the crowd. My gaze snags on them, on one in particular, and I realize it’s the football team.

Knox Maguire has made his appearance.

Women squeal his name like fan girls and they swarm the guys like bees to honey.

“Here you go.” I turn to find the bartender sliding my glass toward me across the counter, and I take it from him with a faint smile.

“Thank you.”

“We owe you one,” Natalie adds with a wink as she grabs my arm and steers me away.

“Nat, wait!” the bartender calls after us, but Natalie ignores him with a soft laugh.

“Wait a minute, you didn’t pay for our drinks?”

She shakes her head, leading me toward the back, where there might be some open tables. Doubtful though. “I always get a couple of drinks out of him every time I show up, and he knows it. He just likes to act put out.”

“Well, thanks.” Coming to a stop, I raise my glass toward her before I take a tiny sip, grimacing. “Oh shit, that’s strong.”

“He delivers a heavy pour, even with the free ones. I’m sure his boss hates him.” Natalie laughs, chugging from her glass before she grabs hold of my wrist. “A table just freed up! Let’s go!”

We dart toward it, not minding that it’s littered with empty cups, a plate full of congealed leftover nachos, and a pile of crumpled napkins lying on top of it. Natalie shoots ahead of me, falling into one of the empty chairs with her arm raised, clutching her glass, most likely so it won’t spill.

A few guys show up at the same time, intent on getting our tiny table before us and I swing around, ready to plop my butt in one of the empty chairs when I hear a, “whoa there.”

Just before my ass lands on the lap of a very firm, very warm male.

Humiliation washes over me and my face is on absolute fire as I try to get up but big hands clamp around my waist, keeping me in place.

“No need to run off. You can stay awhile.” The familiar voice is so close to my ear, I swear I feel his lips brush it.

A shiver steals through me and I lean to the left to find…

I’m sitting on Knox Maguire’s lap, his eyes going wide when he registers who I am.

“Wait a sec. Do I know you?” he asks.





FOUR





KNOX





Her pretty face is very familiar, but I can’t quite place it. From the irritated scowl she’s wearing, I’m guessing I should totally recognize her. And maybe I should, but…

I don’t.

That’s the problem with the women on this campus. They fully expect me to remember them from some fleeting moment at a bar, a brief encounter after a game, or maybe a quick hello as we pass each other on campus. I sound like an asshole, even in my own head, but I meet a lot of people.

A lot of women.