Noah’s right, but the knowledge does little to take the sting off his words.
Just once, it would be nice if he had a little faith in me.
“I’ll take my chances,” Coop says smoothly. “I’ve got a good feeling about Quinn. Who knows? She just might be my good luck charm.”
“More like bad luck charm.” Noah grins and claps Coop on the back. “When you end up drunk and covered in beer, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
When it’s our turn, I step up to the table with Cooper, smiling despite the growing knot in my stomach.
Coop fills our cups and lines them up, forming a neat triangle. Then he takes his place next to me, standing so close our shoulders brush. There’s nothing intimate about it, but tell that to my body. Awareness prickles over my skin, every nerve ending on high alert, every hair standing at attention.
“Relax, Quinn.” The way he says my name—with casual familiarity—has some of the tension leaking from my body as he turns and winks at me. “We’ve got this.”
If only I shared his confidence, but nope. I’ve got nothing. Unless Coop’s prepared to carry the team, this is a disaster in the making.
Gavin and Brandon, the Sigs who won the last game, eye us from the other end of the table.
“We’ll do you a solid and let you go first, DeLaurentis.” Gavin gives me a slow once-over, a shit-eating grin on his face. “You’re going to need it.”
Asshole.
“I tried to tell him,” Noah says, shaking his head. “I’ve got next.”
He’s so sure we’re going to lose, he directs the statement to the other end of the table.
A red haze tinges my vision, because what the fuck?
“Ignore them,” Coop orders, offering me a ball. I take it, careful to avoid touching him. I’m already up in my feelings. I don’t need to be swooning over Cooper when there are ten half-full cups of beer in arm's reach. “Better yet, make them eat their words.”
Before I can respond, he flicks his wrist and his ball goes sailing across the table.
It lands in the center cup with a splash.
A loud cheer goes up from the onlookers and Coop throws his hands up in the air, arms spread wide, like he’s the freaking king of campus.
Which he basically is.
“Sink yours and we get ’em back.”
So, no pressure then.
I line up my shot, aiming for the back row, and let it fly.
The ball arcs through the air, clearly on a collision course with Gavin’s face. He swats it away at the last second and drunken laughter goes up from the crowd.
Technically, he’s not supposed to block the ball unless it bounces on the table, but who can blame him? Even I wouldn’t expect him to take a shot to the face.
“Huh.” Coop chuckles, the low rumble humming across my skin. “You really are shit at beer pong.”
Brandon lines up his shot, sinking the ball in the back left corner.
Looks like I’m drinking this round.
Gavin’s next, but thankfully his ball bounces off the rim of the center cup. Coop snatches it out of the air with a triumphant grin.
I fish Brandon’s ball out of the corner cup, resigned to chugging a warm beer.
Coop shakes his head and wiggles his fingers in ahand it overgesture.
