Looking to Score(37)

“No. Not that it matters, but I had an important meeting this morning. It was for him. I mean that. I mean I dressed up for that meeting.” I stumbled over my words. Great. That was super convincing. I should have just gone back and changed this morning.

“Whatever you say,” he said with a shrug, popping an entire boiled egg into his mouth. So. Gross. I stared at him in disgust as his cheeks puffed out, full of egg. How do you even eat that much boiled egg at once?

I was still puzzling over the egg when Oakley started waving. I looked over my shoulder to see who he was waving at. Oh great, Dale.

“Oh shit, now he’s coming over,” Oakley said, a little chunk of yolk escaping his mouth. Eew.

“If you didn’t want him coming over, why did you wave?” I asked with a smirk. Oakley looked mad to have our lunch date crashed, and I was thanking the sweet gods of mystery meat pizza that we had someone to distract from Oakley’s thoughtful lunch non-date.

“He saw me,” Oakley said, scrubbing his hand down his face. “I didn’t want to be rude... Our first date is ruined.”

“Good thing it’s not a date,” I replied with a wink, then turned to greet Dale.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “You look good, Ball. Get enough sleep after last night?” Dale pulled up a chair and sat down before grabbing a pita chip and loudly chomping on it.

If I was being honest, I didn’t sleep hardly at all, but I wasn’t going to answer truthfully. I evaded, instead. “I really hope this nickname doesn’t stick for the rest of the season, because I don’t like being called after something that shares a namesake with the two tiny marbles dangling between your thighs, Dale.”

It was sassier than I intended, but both guys started chuckling loudly. “Her name is totally Balls now,” Dale said loudly, slapping his knees. “I’m telling the group chat.”

Oakley laughed, and I cracked a smile good-naturedly. Nicknames were signs of endearment, right?

“So what are y’all up to?” Dale asked.

Oakley opened his mouth to answer, but he looked far too mischievous for my liking.

“We’re going over his schedule and press for the game this weekend,” I said confidently, making Oakley frown.

“I hope you penciled in the kegger we’re throwing after the game. You can’t bail on us again!” Dale said, slapping Oakley on the back.

“A keg party?” a soft voice said. I tilted my eyes up to see a brunette with long wavy hair and impossibly long eyelashes. She looked like a Kardashian. While I was busy wondering how anybody could have such perfect brows, Oakley was appreciating her other assets.

“Hey, Kels,” Oakley said with familiarity. “What do you think? Should we go to Dale’s party?” Two more blondes had joined us at the table before Oakley had even finished asking Kels out. They were both gorgeous and looked like they belonged on the cover of magazines, half-naked and selling perfume. They were also both standing on either side of Oakley. Blonde Number One had her hand casually resting on his shoulder. What. Was. Happening?!

Kelseigh—I was just assuming that’s what Kels was short for, while I was also being slightly petty and jealous—looked at Oakley through those damn beautiful lashes and purred, “Yes! I think we should go!”

In unison, the blondes pretended to pout. Knowing full well that they were invited, Blonde Number Two teased, “What about us? You know you would miss us.”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Dale said Matthew McConaughey style. “There’s plenty of Oakley, and me, to go around! You and all of your hot friends are invited. Spread the word! It’ll be at my house.”

I felt the jealousy raging through my veins and making my face hot. For someone who was adamantly declaring that she was not on a date less than five minutes ago, I was so uncomfortable I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

I should have expected this. Oakley was a player. Just because he wanted in my pants didn’t mean the rest of the world just magically stopped lusting after him. Not to mention, I had made it clear that we couldn’t be much of anything. Someone like Oakley didn’t play the long game, he was—as he so eloquently put it last night—always looking to score.

Oakley politely shrugged off one of the girls and scooted his seat over to me. “And what about you, Solver?” he purred in a low voice. The girls were leaning in close, trying to listen in to what he was saying. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Dale smirking. Smirk all you want, bro. I’m a stone cold fox.

“I guess I’ll have to go to keep your ass in line,” I whispered back. Why did I sound like a cat in heat? And how could he turn me to a puddle of mush so easily? I didn’t really do the whole party scene anymore. But this was part of my job. Was he inviting me for other reasons? Visions of us making out in a frat boy bathroom assaulted me. Not even nasty imaginary toilets filled with regurgitated Everclear could make the hope in my belly stop bubbling up. I’d kiss Oakley in a bathroom. I would kiss him in a spoon. I’d kiss Oakley Davis with green eggs and ham in the bottom of a lake, in a boat on a goat...

“I like how you keep my ass in line,” he whispered against my neck, drawing me out of my thoughts. I flushed. My pink canoe was ready for a ride on the river, if you know what I mean.

“I’m sure there are plenty of others ready to ride your ass,” I snarked. Yep. I sounded jealous. I might as well have lifted my leg and pissed on his patch of grass.