Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(12)
“No, that’s not what it means.” I look up to catch his eyes and refuse to look away even when the cartilage around my knees starts to marshmallow. “It means the opposite. Road block ahead.”
“A road block?” He looks down, so far down at me, one brow quirked, questioning.
“You can’t get through, but there are alternate roads. A detour.” I nod my head toward the party. “Amanda, for one, seems like she’d enjoy being your alternate route.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “She’s not my type.”
“Oh, pretty, blue-eyed blondes with big breasts not your type?”
“Used to be.” He barks out a short laugh. “I was married to one for a long time.”
I’m quiet, choking on something. A woman couldn’t be more opposite of me than blue-eyed and blond. I don’t even know this man, so it shouldn’t sting that he belonged to someone else, that he chose someone so antithetical to me.
“Well, if you change your mind, Amanda’s a road I’d call . . . well-traveled,” I say, going to step around him. “So wrap it up tight if you ever do ride.”
“Like I said, I’m not remotely interested in Amanda,” he says. “I’m very interested in you. I’m in New York all summer. Let me take you out.”
“Detour,” I remind him and follow the path Chase took a few minutes ago.
“There you are,” JP says when I re-enter the room, but he’s looking up and over my shoulder. “We couldn’t start without the guest of honor.”
When Keir explained Hook Shot, I immediately tensed at the possibility that I might be randomly paired with and asked to kiss Kenan. I would have probably bowed out of the game. I have before at some of these parties, but I overheard Kenan talking with Vale, and am almost positive I heard him say “boot.” Besides, JP was walking around with the button in his hand, barely trying to hide it. The most JP will give me is one of his famous air kisses.
We reconvene in the main saloon to play. After a few rounds, it’s actually fun. That’s the thing about these games. We all groan and pretend we hate them, but there’s something exhilarating about shaking off the cloak of responsibility, the daily adulting, and playing like kids again if only for a night.
Amanda and Yari both drew a thimble. They knock back their glasses of tequila and then slam them on the table in the center of the room with gusto, both hissing and wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands. When it’s time for their kiss, they laughingly make such a show of it to the great enthusiasm of all the guys.
“More!” Chase yells. “Don’t stop now. It was getting good.”
We go through a few more rounds, sitting on low couches lining the walls, eating and getting drunker by the minute. I try to tune out, to ignore the compelling presence of the man who doesn’t quite fit in here, doesn’t quite belong with this tribe of crazy creatives, but who manages to seem as comfortable floating with us tonight as he would standing at the free-throw line.
I guess there’s still a free-throw line. They could have abolished it as far as I know or care. I follow basketball not at all.
I’m aware of Kenan, though. My senses pique and my skin prickles every time something lures his reluctant laughter out of hiding.
“Your turn, Lo,” Vale says, cheeks still pink from her kiss and liquor.
I step to the table. A bottle of tequila and two shot glasses are the only things cluttering its surface. With a flourish, I hold up my tiny silk bag to show everyone, and then slowly extract the gold button.
“Okay, so who am I kissing?” I search the room until I find JP and wink at him. “Let’s do this.”
JP winks back, his eyes shining the way they do when a design comes together, but he doesn’t move.
JP doesn’t move, but to my alarm and horror, Kenan joins me at the table and holds up a button. My eyes dart from him to the button. I could have sworn I heard him say he had the boot, and I could have sworn JP had the button. Right now, I could just swear. Just cuss. The very lining of my stomach seems to quiver with Kenan so close.
But I won’t back down in front of everyone. And I certainly won’t back down in front of him. It’s just a kiss. It can be quick and harmless and over in no time.
With deceptively steady hands, I grab the bottle and fill my shot glass to the very top. I slide the bottle his way without once looking at him. My hands may look steady, but I’m vibrating inside. With fury. With frustration. Dammit, I can only admit this to myself, and I swear myself to secrecy—vibrating with anticipation. I can’t have this incredible tower of a man, and I will not under any circumstances give myself to him.
Kenan seems too good to be true. Those are the worst men because, from my experience, they usually aren’t true. With all I’m sorting through, I don’t need that not true shit right now. Actually, ever. I’ve had enough people in my life who I thought I could count on, but in the end, proved I couldn’t.
No, I can’t have him and he can’t have me, but we can have this kiss. This one little kiss. The trick is to control it. A little pressure. A little tongue. A tiny taste, then get out.
With my battle plan in place, I meet his eyes over our shot glass rims and, on the crowd’s count of three, we knock our drinks back together. The fiery liquid scorches my throat. I give an “ahhhhhh” and slam my glass down. Kenan does the same, and we face each other across the table.