“We’re not that stupid.”
She steps around me, blocking my shot, eyes dragging down my body with zero shame.
Then she lifts one manicured finger
and runs it slowly
deliberately
down the line of my chest.
A cold, controlled smirk stretches across her red lips.
“She was so basic,” she purrs. “I am the opposite of that. I’m top shelf.”
She leans in closer, voice dropping.
“Meet me in the sixth room on the right upstairs.”
She winks.
It’s disgusting how proud she looks.
I straighten, cue still in hand, and stare at her like she’s made of smoke.
I let the silence stretch?—
just long enough to make her think I’m considering it.
Then I laugh.
Right in her face.
“I’ve been here for an hour,” I say, “and you’re already inviting me upstairs?”
Her smile falters.
“That,” I add, “is the most basic move I’ve ever heard, Viv.”
Her mouth drops open.
“No thanks,” I say, stepping around her to take my shot. “I’ll pass.”
I sink the ball without even looking.
She stands there, stunned, cheeks flushed in a way I know is pure fury.
Her nostrils flare.
Her chin lifts.
Her pride fractures.
Which, of course, only means one thing?—
She wants me more.
She huffs, flips her hair like it’s supposed to hurt my feelings, and storms back toward the foyer.
