End Game (Bellevue Bullies 4)

“Yeah,” I yell as she pulls me through the crowds and into the house. The house is packed wall-to-wall with people, but Amelia knows her way around. I feel people staring at us, and when I see some of our teammates, I almost stop her, but she is a girl on a mission. I don’t know if she’s looking for Ryan or Moon or both, but I’m just holding on.

When she stops suddenly, I run right into her, and she steadies me by wrapping her arm around my waist as she looks down at her phone. Her shoulders fall.

“What?” I yell over the music, and she shakes her head.

“I’m really sorry,” she says, but I’m confused.

“What? Why?”

She doesn’t answer me, taking my hand and pulling me along as my heart jackhammers in my chest. When we reach the living room, I see a circle of people, like in the movies when people are gathered for a dance-off. Oh! I wonder if this is one. That would be neat to witness, but there is no way I can see over everyone. Amelia must realize this, for she pulls me as we snake through people to the front. When we reach the middle, there is no one here and I’m confused.

“What the hell?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Why do you keep saying—”

But before I finish, a very recognizable song starts. “Despacito” by Luis Fonsi, is a song I know very well because the radio stations played it nonstop. Amelia’s face scrunches up in embarrassment, and I’m not sure why, until I follow her gaze.

Ryan is standing in the middle of the floor.

He has a hat low on his head, but his eyes are right on me.

He’s lip-syncing like he is Justin Bieber himself and I’m the only one in the room.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

As he moves to the music, his eyes never leave mine. I can’t help it, my jaw drops. My heart is beating even faster as everyone cheers him on, screaming his name as he moves to the music like he was born to. His hips are dangerous, his body lethal as that electric-blue gaze of his stays locked on me.

When Amelia leans in, I shake my head. “Again, I’m really sorry for this display of something out of High School Musical.”

I snort. “He’s serious.”

“I told you,” she says on an exhale, “he doesn’t want to lose.”

Neither do I.

But watching as he moves, that grin on his face while he sings and dances like no one is watching, I can’t help but wonder if maybe losing to Ryan wouldn’t be too bad.