Love You Better (Better Love 1)

“Hush, you know what I meant.” I wave him away airily.

“Yep. I def do.” I ignore him and go back to scanning the crowd.

Jesse is almost a foot taller than my 5’5”, and even sitting on the high-top bar stool, my eyes are still only about level with his armpit. After a few minutes of people watching, he nudges my shoulder with his elbow.

“You sure you’re good with two weekends in a row?” Jesse asks, and I nod.

“Yeah. Things went well last weekend. I want to test it out.” I’m still riding the high of progress, but I don’t want to take the risk that last weekend’s success was a fluke.

“Cool cool. Okay, how about that dark-haired guy at the pong table? He’s got that douche bag look you been goin’ for.”

Jesse laughs, but I’m not offended. He’s right. One hundred percent, I go for the d-bag look right now, and while Jesse has a vague understanding of why I do what I do, he doesn’t know everything, so I let it slide right off me. Water off a duck.

I narrow my eyes and study the person he’s pointed out.

“Ummm, J, I think I’ve met him already.”

“Worth a replay?”

“Meh, I suppose everyone deserves a second chance.” I laugh, and he tosses me a grin. “But let’s keep him on the bench for now.”

“Sure thing, Coach.”

We scope out the crowd a bit longer as more people pour in the front door, singing along to the music and making idle chitchat as we wait. My week was grueling, though, so I don’t have the energy for small talk, and Jesse can tell. One test, a pop quiz, and a paper I turned in this morning has left my mind a bit mushy for socializing. Not to mention yesterday’s brain busting session of LSAT practice tests. I did pretty well on them, but my accuracy wasn’t as consistent as I would have liked.

Anyway. This week has been a week.

“Ooooh.” I lean into Jesse and bring my beer to my lips. “I want that one,” I say, nodding my head to the muscular guy a few tables down from ours. I go through my mental checklist:

Athletic build, check.

Around six feet, check.

Smooth shaven, check.

Dark hair that’s longer hair on top than on the sides, check.

And there’s something about his clothing—tight jeans, a Colts t-shirt, Jordans, and a black, backwards ballcap—that sells me on him. He’s exactly what I’m looking for.

Yeah, he’ll do nicely.

Jes

se tears his eyes from the short skirt he’s spotted and drags them to my conquest.

“Damn, girl. You’ve definitely developed a type.” He gives me a wink. “I think I’m going with her.” He nods back to the redhead in the skirt, currently dominating at the beer pong table.

Another reason Fridays are so popular at Keggers—they set up beer pong tables in the back and host first-come-first-served games. It makes for a rowdy crowd and definitely contributes to the stickiness of the floor.

I check Jesse’s girl out. She seems confident and has two girlfriends in tow, so she’s not fending for herself. Smart. I watch as she tosses the ball into the other team’s cup and then throws some sassy remark I can’t hear at the guys on the side of the table. She cocks her head to the side and pops her hand on her hip, a small smirk on her face as the guys say something back. Yeah. This girl could work.

“I like her. Meet back here in twenty? Text if you need more time.”

“Yesss,” he says, drawing out the ‘s’ so he sounds like a snake. “Imma go secure you some D for that P, V.”

I snort out a laugh and bump his fist with mine, and we each head toward the other’s prospective company for the night.

I sidle up to the girl and watch as she finishes handing the frat guys their butts. Then, I get to business.