I Bet You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Connor ignores him—good for him—and moves his attention to me. “Are you okay? Should I alert the security guard?”

  I shake my head rapidly and clear my throat. “No, but thank you for checking on me. Everything is fine. Ryker and I just…” My words trail off. Shit, we don’t have a backstory except for the article, and that doesn’t fit here. “He’s sorry. Right?” I look over at the first-rate kisser, and my eyes implore him. Is this what I’m supposed to do—be the helpless female he rescues?

  Ryker gives me a little nod. It’s about time you figured out the plan, his eyes say. Then a smirk dances across his face and I read it well: My kiss really knocked you out.

  “In your dreams,” I mutter.

  “What was that?” Connor asks me, and I dart my eyes from Ryker to him.

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking myself. “Ryker was just…uh—”

  He interrupts me. “I asked her out, and she turned me down. I thought kissing her might change her mind. Guess you can’t win them all.”

  “Well, just don’t do it again,” I say as I cross my arms, playing my part.

  “If that’s what you want,” Ryker says sardonically.

  “I do.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I just did,” I snap.

  “Sometimes your body says more than your words,” he retorts, arching one eyebrow.

  How does he do that? It’s virtually impossible for me to only lift one eyebrow.

  “Sometimes you need to just move on,” I quip back.

  He smirks. “If you really mean that, why do you think about me all the time?”

  How does he know I think about him?

  I frown. “I don’t.”

  “Uh-huh.” He gives me a look like he knows something I don’t.

  I glare at him, widening my eyes. What’s his game? He’s gotten Connor over here—shouldn’t he be moving on now?

  “Uh, did you guys used to date?” It’s Connor speaking as he moves in closer, and he’s definitely wearing Polo cologne. My nose flares at the familiar high school scent, and my first reaction is to recoil, but it’s not the worst scent in the world, I suppose. It’s not Old Spice.

  “No,” we both say.

  “Ah, well, you heard her then,” Connor says. “Maybe you need to give her some space.”

  A long exhale comes from Ryker. “I think you’re right, Dimpleshitz.” With that, he grabs his backpack, gives us one more look, and takes off down the aisle.

  I shake my head, watching his broad shoulders as he walks away. “He might be a genius,” I say, mostly to myself. Even though Connor does hear it, he doesn’t appear to understand my meaning.

  He watches him, a small scowl buried in his forehead. “He’s an enigma for sure. Too bad about his involvement in the gambling thing.”

  I turn toward him, wearing a frown. “It wasn’t gambling, and he was cleared by the NCAA.”

  He gives me a careful glance. “I see…but didn’t you write an article about him?”

  I nod. “I wrote a follow-up one as well.”

  “Ah, you’re defending him.”

  My lips flatten. “No.”

  Connor’s face is thoughtful. “But you’re into him?”

  I shake my head. “Absolutely not.” Work with this, Penelope. Ryker has given me an opportunity, and I’m not going to screw it up. Make conversation. I touch his arm and smile brightly. “Trust me, we’re just friends.”

  He smiles boyishly, one corner of his lips turning up in a crooked grin. “I thought you two didn’t like each other, but then I can be a little oblivious.”

  I nod. “Same here. I barely notice anything. Look at us, two peas in a pod.” I laugh. “So, how are you? How’s calculus?” I’m rambling and gazing up at him with doe eyes, and the attention seems to be working.

  He blushes and dips his head. “Great. I saw that you were in there. Are you on your way to class?”

  I nod, and when he helps me pick up some of the books I scattered on the floor in my earlier haste, it’s the closest we’ve ever been. I take in a small pimple near his chin and the tiny piece of pepper he has stuck in one of his teeth, probably from breakfast—I hope—and it’s a decidedly unromantic thought, but I figure he’s human like the rest of us. We make small talk, and I nod right along as he goes into a rather long and detailed discussion about Professor White and how much he enjoys his teaching style.

  I try to pay attention—I really do—but before long I feel a pricking, as if someone is watching me, and I glance around the bookstore.

  My perusal around the establishment lands one aisle over where I see a sliver of khaki pants behind a tall display of atlases. Craning my neck, I see his mass of wild hair.

  I stuff down my grin. Ryker.

  He’s listening to us.

  Maybe it’s part of his…tutelage?

  Admittedly, it does encourage me to try harder.

  My phone vibrates with a text, and while Connor is checking out the mechanical pencils and going into detail about which one is best for each class, I pull it out stealthily and read.

  Good job with the talking, Red. Keep it up and he’s all yours.

  “Hmmm,” I say to Connor’s question about paper choices as he bends down to look for a five-subject notebook.

  What do I talk about? I text.

  Find things you both like. Books? Chess? Dungeons and Dragons? Hell, I don’t know. Nerd stuff.

  I’ve seen you reading in the library before. Does that make you a nerd, Baby Llama?

  I get no reply and focus on Connor, who’s still talking as he stares at the notebook selection. I feel my phone buzz and arrange it on top of the workbook so I’m not actually holding it but I can still read it. Being stealthy, I peek at Ryker’s response.

  I’m guessing you call me Baby Llama because of my hairy chest, is his reply. I see you looking at it. It hypnotizes you. I actually wore my button-down today so you’d get a good view.

  Oh, he is such a scoundrel!

  I’M NOT FASCINATED BY YOUR HAIR, I reply. Maybe I call you that because your face is rather long.

  I think you want to touch my chest, he replies. Maybe later after Connor is gone I’ll take my shirt off for you. I bet you won’t touch my chest.

  Go to hell, quarterback, I text.

  I remember that time you saw me coming out of the shower at the Tau house with only a towel on. I saw your open mouth. You were…IMPRESSED. Do you have fantasies about my naked chest?

  I’m going to slap you again next time I see you. Or pull out one of those hairs.

  As long as I get to kiss you first, he says.

  My breath sucks in. Oh, he’s just teasing me. Then he sends me a string of laughing crying emojis with a string of llamas. See. A joke.

  What a player, I think with a small smile.

  It was a great kiss, I tell him.

  I know.

  I roll my eyes. Thank you for getting him over here.

  Another text comes in a few minutes later. By the way, where is Forks, Seattle?

  It’s where the Cullens live. Hello, Twilight?

  You’re really into bloodsuckers.

  If he only knew. I have most of the books and movies memorized.

  Edward’s face is on my pillow.

  LOL, he replies. Maybe it’s time you gave up your book crushes and focused on real life more.

  And I assume Sexy as Hell Athlete is the one to help me with that?

  Did I not just get you Connor? Now stop texting me and talk to him.

  I’m chuckling when I hear my name and look up at Connor. His face is inquisitive.

  “I’m sorry.” I gesture to my phone. “Important message. Did you say something?”

  “I asked if you liked to play pool.”

  I squint. How did we get from school supplies to pool? I flounder, my eyes running around the store, trying to recall details of a game I played once or twice in my aunt’s basement when I was a kid. I reach into my purse for my lip
stick, a sure sign I’m nervous. I know there’s an eight ball…

  He gives me a slightly perplexed look. “You know the game with the balls and sticks? Billiards, if you’re fancy.”

  “Oh, pool. I thought you said tool.” I laugh. “I played in high school actually, was even in a league with…teams and such.” God. Do they have those?

  “I didn’t know schools had those.”

  I nod. “They do! I went to a private school here in Magnolia, and it was all the rage.”

  His face lights up. “That’s awesome. It’s one of my favorite pastimes since my dad owns a pool hall back in my hometown.”

  I’ve read that widening your eyes when you talk to the opposite sex shows interest, so I flare mine open. “Where’s that?”

  “Memphis.” He gives me an odd look. “You okay?”

  I nod emphatically. “Yeah, why?”

  “Your eyes got big.”

  “Oh, just a speck of dust. It’s fine.” I wave dismissively. “I love Memphis! Graceland’s there, home of Elvis, right? It’s the best. Lots of dancing and music…stuff.”

  He brightens. “You like Elvis?”

  “Achy Breaky Heart guy with the great hair and shiny outfits? Totally.”

  He frowns. “No, that was Billy Ray Cyrus, and I’m not sure where he’s from. Elvis sang in the 60s and 70s—and he’s dead. You know that, right?”

  Oh God. I’m losing my mind. Of course, I know who the heck Elvis is! This is Ryker’s fault…somehow. My eyes shift over to the map display where I swear I can hear stifled laughing. I clear my throat. “Duh. My brain is mush today. First couple weeks of classes and all.” I pause and smile. “My favorite Elvis song is ‘Love Me Tender’. It’s very romantic.” I briefly shut my eyes in mortification.

  What is this nonsense coming out of my mouth?

  I need a reboot. Stat.

  “Yeah.” He stares down at his hands for a moment before looking back up at me. “You know, I’ve wanted to talk to you several times, but I never seem to find the right time. I’m glad I ran into you today. Do you play chess?”

  I blink at the non sequitur but smile at him, and he blinks a little, his eyes lingering on my lips. Thank you, cherry red lipstick. “Yes, I love it so, so much.” At least that much is true.

  He grins. “I didn’t realize we had so much in common.”

  “I know. Amazing.”

  “I’m headed to a chess tournament this weekend, but maybe you’d like to get together soon—if you’re not seeing anyone?” He blushes.

  This is so easy. All I have to do is agree with everything.

  “That sounds great. I work a few nights at Sugar’s and at the library, but if I know in advance, I can ask for it off.”

  He nods. “Cool. I’d love for you to come to Cadillac’s with me. Maybe show me some of your moves from high school?”

  Cadillac’s is a local bar where students from Waylon hang out. There’s a collection of pool tables there. Dammit.

  It’s like a soap bubble has burst.

  “Uh…” I freak out internally as I emit a nervous laugh. “I may have to study…you just never know. I’ll check my schedule.”

  He takes his glasses from his shirt and slips them on. He really is adorable. “Nah, just bring your books with you. We can go over whatever you need to do after we play.”

  But…

  How in the hell am I going to fake play pool when I don’t even know what end of the stick to hold?

  “So, it’s a date then? Maybe next week sometime?” God. He actually said the words…

  Damn. Ryker did it. Connor actually said date.

  I exhale. “Uh, yeah.”

  He asks for my number, and I give it to him, my gaze flicking to the area where I know Ryker is lurking.

  Connor offers to walk me to class, and I give him a nod then tag along.

  We walk out of the student center and head to the science building for our class. We’re halfway there when I get another text.

  You might need to brush up on your Elvis. And pool.

  I smile to myself.

  “Who’s that?” Connor asks.

  I sigh. “No one.”

  Ryker

  Penelope Graham. Damn.

  Somewhere between hiding with her behind the plant and kissing her in the bookstore, something changed between us. I can’t put my finger on exactly what, but I do know I’m fucking jealous as hell of a nerd who loves to talk about mechanical pencils and pool.

  You have no right to your jealousy, I tell myself while I follow behind them as they walk through the quad.

  Much to my surprise, I also notice that, at some point, she pulled up her sweatshirt and did some kind of tie thing on the side, so it shows off her heart-shaped ass. She must have done it while they were walking out of the bookstore, and I was lingering behind the display.

  I take in several pairs of male eyes roving over her as she sashays past them and it annoys me.

  But…

  I shouldn’t be surprised they’re staring.

  There’s something mesmerizing about her that calls to the caveman in me and brings all my alpha instincts to the surface. She’s part goofy but clever. Hot but innocent. Her lips are a perfect Cupid’s bow, full and red, and I admit to staring at them a little too long in the bookstore before we kissed. And her coppery hair that falls around her oval face? That’s the stuff of wet dreams.

  I half-smile. She isn’t impressed with who I am, and that…that I fucking dig.

  I walk briskly, my stride extended as I try to catch up to them without getting close enough to be noticed. Hell, I just want to be a fly on the wall for their conversation. Most of their exchange in the bookstore was about school supplies.

  What I’m definitely not thinking about is the elephant in my head: that kiss.

  Yeah, it was spur of the moment, but part of me wants to repeat it as soon as I can.

  But…

  That won’t happen.

  I’m getting Connor for her—not me.

  I enter the science building, still following the…lovebirds? I watch their heads bend close to each other as they have a conversation that seems intense. What are they talking about?

  Pool?

  I was on a team in high school. Please. And just like that, I grin at nothing in particular. Penelope is…funny.

  As I head down the hallway to class, I see Archer coming around the corner, his arm around Sasha, one of the jersey chasers.

  Anger curls around me. These past couple of days at practice have been tense, but I’m hanging in there, as long as he can keep his trap shut.

  I head for the entrance to the auditorium just as Archer ditches Sasha and hightails it over to me. His gaze sees the pair up ahead—Connor and Penelope—and a wide grin splits his face. A low whistle comes from him as he checks her out before she disappears through the door.

  I hate that he’s staring at her.

  “What do you want?” I say.

  He smirks. “Ah, poor Ryker, she’s with a guy. That certainly makes things interesting, but I’m sure a handsome fellow like you can figure it out.” He tosses his head back and laughs but then sobers, his eyes narrowing on my face. “Unless I’m wrong and you’ve tapped that already?”

  I stare down at him, my fists tightening. “None of your goddamn business.”

  “Now that’s a no if I ever heard one,” he says in his slow drawl before giving me a slap on the back. “Don’t worry, sport, maybe you can talk her into it. I mean, I know you’ve lost some of your game with the ladies this year, but surely you can get this girl.” He considers me. “But then, maybe you’re not feeling masculine enough? I mean, you’ve had some bad press lately. They say it affects the libido.”

  I exhale. “Don’t you have better things to do with your time than worry about who I’m screwing? People who talk about sex are the ones who aren’t getting it, bro.”

  He waves me off. “Actually, this is the highlight of my week. I’m going to w
in that trophy this year because you’re too much of a pussy to get a piece of ass that should be so easy for someone like you—seeing as you’re the big man on campus and all.”

  I smirk. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Archer. I’m not taking your bet. And as soon as Maverick comes back to the team, your ass is no longer captain.”

  His face reddens, and I’m glad I finally hit a nerve. He’s a hard nut to crack under all that fake bravado. “You think you’re so good, don’t you? You think just because you’re Ryker Voss everyone’s just going to give you a pass.”

  I tower over him, inching into his space until I hope he smells my toothpaste. “Keep all this talk up and you’re going to get hurt.”

  He laughs, a bit shrilly, and bounces away from me on the balls of his feet. “Whatever. It’s all in good fun. Now, get back out there and try again, buddy. You’re letting her get away with some guy who can’t hold a candle to you—supposedly.”

  Then he’s gone, vanishing down the hallway with Sasha by his side, leaving me fuming and ready to punch a hole in the wall. I settle for raking a hand through my hair.

  Why do I let him get to me?

  Because everything is getting to you now.

  And something is going to crack.

  It’s going to crumble around me, and there won’t be anything I can do about it.

  I close my eyes briefly until a very Southern female voice interrupts me.

  “Ryker? Oh, goodness. How are you? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  I whip around, and it’s Margo…something. Maybe she’s been lurking here for a while—I can’t tell. I can’t think of her last name, but I recall what I know about her: last year she dated some rich dude who screwed her over for a Theta. Apparently, she caught him red-handed at a party. I can’t recall all the details, but the rumor mill ran rampant.

  “You’re just the person I wanted to see,” she adds. A slow smile breaks over her face as she eats me up with her eyes.

  Okay.

  I know a come-on when I see it.

  We don’t usually chat, but I’ll bite.

  “What’s up?” I ask, looking down in bemusement as she crooks her hand into the bend of my elbow and leads me over to the side next to the wall where we’re out of the way of foot traffic. I’ve never taken her for the flirtatious type, or as one to dress skimpily—she’s more of a CEO type—but today she’s showing off, wearing three-inch heels and a short white sundress.