“I know, right?” I agreed, slapping the bar. My dad had texted me the same thing hoursearlier.
Sebastian turned to look at the guy, then at me. “Easy, slugger,” hesaid.
Slugger?I’d moved right out of Barbie’s dream house and intoThe Sandlot. I didn’t know which was worse. “Sorry. We—my family—take it personally when the Yankees aren’t playingwell.”
I expected Sebastian to go back to justifying his future globe purchase, something I suspected he wanted so he could spin it really fast and see where his finger landed, but he sat on the stool next to me so we were eye level. “That’s the second time you’ve apologized in twenty minutes andalsothe second time you’ve done it allday.”
I stopped myself from apologizing again. He was catching on to my act, and that was a problem. Why would he respect someone who apologized forexisting?
I squared my shoulders, forcing myself to hold eye contact. “It’s called being polite. Maybe you could try itsometime.”
“I give what I receive. Kindness for kindness.” He set his elbow on the bar and circled the pad of his thumb around the rim of his Pacifico. “You scratch my back, I scratchyours.”
“That’s not what that means,” Isaid.
“You lift me, I lift you.” He leaned in. “You go down, I go down—and I reciprocate inspades.”
Goosebumps rose over my skin. I knew he’d meant that last one as a threat, but the hint of gravel in his voice, his sizeable hand fondling his beer, and the slight curve at the corner of his mouth sent my thoughts right to the gutter. Neal hadhatedgoing down. Sebastian’s almost drunken expression read as if he was having the same thought I was, and he didn’t hate it at all. I liked the look on his face and the attention he paidme.
Alot.
“I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” he said. “You haven’t been this quiet since the morning at the café, when I was trying to . . .” His dimples appeared with a sly smile. “Well, before everythingchanged.”
I wished I could say I hadn’t thought of that morning since, but I had—frequently. Sometimes fondly at the memory of his flirting. I licked citrus from the underside of my upper lip. “What’s the fun if you know what I’mthinking?”
He got even closer. “Goodpoint.”
And then, while reliving the moments “before everything changed,” I remembered how weak-kneed I’d gotten just from one short conversation, and how dropping my guard around my smooth-talking ex had gotten me into this situation—having to become someone else to get through one happyhour.
I pulled back right as Justin appeared next to us. “Oh, man,” he said, slapping Sebastian on the back. “She’s working you so hard rightnow.”
Sebastian frowned. “What?”
“You’re practically falling off your seat. You said she had no game, and now she’s spitting it all overyou.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Sebastian said, lighting up as he turned back to me. “I almost forgot about thechallenge.”
“It wasn’t a challenge,” I said. “Vance simply wanted to get me out with you guys. There was nochallenge.”
“To ‘show us a thing or two’—I think that was how he put it,” Sebastian said. “Teach us some game and put your theories to thetest.”
“I never claimed to have game,” I said, trying to quell the panic rising in my chest. “You were the one bragging about it, so why don’tyoushow us what you’vegot?”
“Happily,” Sebastiansaid.
“We’ve seen him in action enough times,” Justin said, winking at me. “How about this? Whoever displays the most game by the end of the nightwins.”
“Wins? But—” I started to protest, but it was too late. The guys had caught wind and were chiming in theiragreement.
Sebastian studied me until he said, “I’ll take thatbet.”
“The objective is too vague,” I said. “You can’t measuregame.”
“We can,” Justin said. “We make a living of it. We’ll be thejudges.”
Judges?A bet? All I’d wanted to do in the meeting was demonstrate how the editors ofModern Mancould improve, not that I could do their jobs better. Most of the guys looked on with excitement, and how would it look if I tried to backout?
Like I wasscared.
