“Maybe,” I say, just to mess with her before I shoot, getting it in for a third time. When she expels a breath, reaching for the ball before downing the cup, I can tell she’s getting a bit nervous by the way she basically beams me with the ball. Laughing, I say, “Poor loser, eh?”
“Lose the ‘eh,’ asshole, and I don’t lose.”
“Ah, but today you will, sweetheart.”
Clearing her throat, she looks up at me and says, “Didn’t I say I’m not your sweetheart?”
I nod. “You did, but you also said you were gonna beat me, but that isn’t happening.”
I then shoot, getting it another cup, to her dismay. Downing another cup, her face starts to flush before she looks over at me again and I smile.
“Can I have the ball?”
She sends it my way, and then I watch as she reaches for the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up and over her body, throwing it down to the ground before stretching her arms up and behind her. I know what she’s doing. I’m not dumb, but I’m also not dead, and I drink in every single detail of her gorgeous, round tits. Basically drooling at the way her top is a little too small, causing the underside of her boob to hang out of the bottom of the left cup.
Unable to keep that to myself, I say, “Your boob is hanging out.”
Innocently, she looks down and actually fakes an “O” face. “Oh no, look at that,” she says before tucking it back in.
I can’t help it, I laugh, which in return pisses her off.
“What? Did you think you were gonna be able to distract me?” I ask, and she just glares. “I mean, it may work on some other dude, but not me, baby. You’re going down.”
She doesn’t say anything as I shoot, or even after I get it in three more times. As she downs the sixth cup, I chuckle as I twist the ball in my hand. She lays the cup down beside the other empty ones and glares at me, her chest heaving up and down, her body flushed with either the alcohol or maybe even with nervousness of having to spend time with me. I’m pretty sure she’s worried she can’t control herself.
Which is A-OK with me.
Shooting again, I get it in three more times before Jude comes up, slapping me on the back. He looks at the table and then across at Baylor. “Please tell me you didn’t let him go first.”
“I won at hockey; he insisted on going first,” she says sharply, and I love the anger radiating off her.
It’s adorable.
“Ah, well, you aren’t going to win this,” he laughs before shaking his head. “Jayden kicks ass at some beer pong, especially if he is sober.”
As he walks away laughing, I meet her gaze and shrug innocently at her glare. “I told you’d I win.”
“I mean, whatever, I haven’t even had a chance to play,” she counters.
“Sometimes, it plays out like that,” I say, before shooting and getting it in the last cup. “You have no clue how much money I’ve made from this.”
She nods as she looks down at the cup. “I bet.”
Reaching for it, she takes the ball out and downs the cup. She then starts for her cups, and deciding that I actually want her to be able to talk to me, I go over to help her finish them off. Reaching for a cup, I down it before reaching for another, but then I pause to look at her. She is pissed; it’s rolling off her in waves. She doesn’t like losing.
That’s obvious.
“I’m surprised you don’t want a rematch,” I note and she shrugs.
“I lost, fair and square,” she says simply. “And if I’m honest, it can’t be that bad to talk to you.”
I scoff. “That must be the beer talking.”
She looks up at me and smiles, giving me the girlie, fluttering feeling in my gut. It’s a true smile. The same one that I saw when she scored the winning goal against me. “Must be, eh?”
I grin before downing the cup. Soon all the beer is gone, and she looks up at me expectantly but also a little cautiously. “So now what?”
I pause, pressing my finger to my chin. She watches me, trying to fight off her grin before I look over at her. “I know, I’m supposed to say…BOOYAH!”