Page 9 of Play the Last Card
“Let me guess, you were a cheerleader and you were forced to watch from the sidelines?” Scott leans back in his chair, smiling. I relax into mine a little as well.
“Ha. No. Although, I think it killed my Nan a little that I didn’t want to try out for the squad,” I say.
“If you weren’t a cheerleader then …”
I sigh, cringing a little as I admit, “I dated the quarterback. For a very long six months of my life I was dragged to game after game, practice after practice, trying my best to get into a sport I hated. He would get so annoyed that I didn’t give a crap about his stats or his throws.”
“So you dated a douche?” Scott says with a smirk.
“In high school.” I smile. “I hear he’s very respectable now.”
“Did he go on to play college ball?” Scott leans forward, resting those beautifully sculpted arms on the small table between us.
“Truthfully, he wasn’t very good. I didn’t keep track but I suspect he wouldn’t have made a starting line-up.” The corners of Scott’s mouth twitches upwards and I mark another tally, almost winning on the imaginary scoreboard.
There is a beat, and then he says, “You’re honest. I like that.”
“Am I?” I ask.
“Mm. Not a lot of people would live in this part of town, work in a sports bar so close to a stadium and have the balls to admit they hate their Super Bowl winning team with everything they have.”
Laughter bubbles up and spills over. He takes off his cap and threads his hands through his hair, smirking. He waits for my laughter to die, watching me intently, before speaking again. “So you wouldn’t date another football player?”
“I’m a bit past my college boys phase.” I try to laugh the question off. “But no. Probably not. Athletes just remind me too much of my—” I stop again, changing directions. “It’s easier to just veto them all together.”
“I see,” he says with a nod. Silence settles again, this time thicker than before and less easy.
“Wait, you didn’t say what you actually do for the B—”
“Ivy?” Katie pushes open the door to the alley, the thumping beats of the music pouring out after her and filling the quiet alley. “It’s our—" she hiccups, giggling. “It’s our song. Come on!”
I smile at her, getting to my feet. When she disappears back inside, I turn to Scott. “She’ll kill me if I don’t get in there.”
“You best go then. Wouldn’t want you to end up dead on my account.”
Something stops me, one hand on the door, the other now being tugged relentlessly by Katie trying to get me to follow her. “I’ll see you ‘round?”
He smiles. A real smile, not just a hint.
Yes. Another point to me.
“Hope so.”
***
The sunlight filters through the cracks of my bedroom curtains. The red glow from the time on my alarm clock illuminates through the room.
It’s half past nine in the morning. Good god, I never sleep past nine.
I try to sit up. My empty stomach growls and the shots from last night pound against my head, reminding me of the terrible decision I made to stay and dance with Katie after my talk with Scott.
He had disappeared into the night and I hadn’t seen him again. At least, not until I’d stumbled home and into bed. My dreams were filled with his green eyes, that sharp jaw and those small lines that appeared near his eyes when I’d almost made him smile.
The dream had played the night over again, except every time Katie had interrupted us, I’d told her to fuck off and Scott had pushed me against the wall. Dream me had relished his hands on my body, in my hair and between my legs.
I groan, the dream slipping from my memory the more I try to remember the way his fingers had darted over my skin.
Fuck.