Not My Match (The Game Changers, #2)(6)

He gives me a full-blown smile, lush lips curving. The effect is devastating, and I suck in a breath. “Quite the imagination there, Bunny. You amaze me.”

I blush. “My randomness drives my family insane.” I pause. “I can’t decide if your nickname should be Cinnamon or Pinky. Thoughts?”

“Neither. I only answer to Badass.”

“Spoilsport.”

Devon searches my face. “Back to the online-dating thing. My cousin Selena did that and barely got out of the car with some guy she met. Dangerous to use.”

I sigh, regretting the loss of our banter. If he only knew that in one of my other universes, he ravishes me on a bathroom countertop. He’s him, sexy with rippling naked muscles, and I’m some girl he picked up on the side of the road as I was running away from an evil bridegroom. I’m wearing a ruined white dress, and I have long pink hair—but glasses, because yes, I must appear intelligent in every universe. He’s in deep lust from the moment I get in his Maserati, and he takes me home—where he makes me his. I chide myself internally. No wonder I can’t keep up in my classes. I live in my own head too much to focus on the facts. There’s no universe where Devon and I are together.

I blame these vivid thoughts on the virgin issue. It’s taunted me horribly for five months, since Preston’s parting words when he admitted to cheating. If you won’t give it to me, what did you expect, Giselle? You’re frigid.

I was his fiancée (for almost a month), and I still couldn’t . . . well, want him. I just kind of fell into dating him, then accepted his proposal.

And now, here I am, trying to prove I’m normal, looking for love in all the wrong places. That’s a country song, I think.

“Just because you have women all over you doesn’t mean that the average person has it so easy,” I say rather hotly. “I made sure to not come alone, and I wasn’t planning on leaving with him. I had a plan. I have a plan each time.”

He takes a step toward me, indignation on his face. “You’ve done this more than once?”

My brow comes down, annoyance sparking at his incredulous tone. “The first guy, Albert, was a handsome accountant. I met him at Starbucks. Things were going fine until he showed me a pic of his ex on his phone and started crying. Apparently she wanted him to put a ring on it, and he has commitment issues. I advised him to talk to her.”

“How many others, Giselle?”

I shift around on the chair. “You make me feel like I’m in the principal’s office.”

“How many?”

My hand clenches. Oh, he’s so aggravating!

“I don’t understand why you need to know, but there was only one other one, Barry, a bit on the slick side. His bio said he was a chemistry major, so I thought, ‘He likes science, and so do I,’ so I swiped right. Turned out he just wanted me to sign up for some pyramid scheme to sell kitchen things like Pampered Chef but not. I passed on being a rep but ended up buying a spatula from him.” I sigh. “I even paid for his latte. Then came Rodeo, and he had that adorable emu . . .”

“Giselle.” There’s a heavy dose of frustration in his voice, and it makes me lift my chin defiantly.

“Sometimes you have to go through a bunch of duds, Devon. Don’t pretend like you know a thing about it. You have a new girlfriend every month. Who was the girl at the reception? Pity I never got introduced.”

A long exasperated breath leaves his broad chest. “Who’d you come with tonight?”

“Is this twenty questions?”

A small knowing smile tugs at his lips. “I know you have to answer me. Elena told me about your little question problem.”

“That little minx,” I breathe. She’s on her honeymoon in Hawaii with the man of her dreams, yet I feel as if she’s right next to me. My beautiful, sweet older sister, whose shadow I’ve never truly been able to escape. I sigh. At least she’s happy, and no one deserves it more than her. Before she met Jack, I ruined our relationship last year when Preston, her then boyfriend, kissed me that awful day in his office—right before she walked in. Is it any wonder that he and I never felt right? We started off wrong.

A ball of emotion clogs my throat, and I gather myself, trying to push those memories away. It takes effort.

“Topher drove me,” I say grudgingly. “When I took my car to the shop in Daisy, I walked to the library, and he was closing up. He drove me back to Nashville and insisted on coming with me here since I’d never met anyone at a bar before.”

Devon wants to know about my car, and I tell him how I came down this morning to a failed attempt to steal my older-model Camry.

“Are these dates about getting over Preston?” he asks in a careful tone as he gingerly sits down across from me.

“Best way to get over someone is to find someone new.”

A few ticks of silence go by, and the air around us resonates with tension, and as soon as I catch on, I sit up straighter and focus. I don’t understand why the space between us feels charged, but it’s crackling.

“Right,” Devon grinds out as his eyes drape over me, lingering on my blouse before coming up to my face. Our eyes cling until he looks away and scrubs his jaw. “You should get a friend to introduce you to someone—”

“Uh-huh. You’re my friend. Right?”