“I’m already looking forward to it.”
I shouldn’t be egging her on, especially given the way her eyes are still shooting daggers, but she makes it way too easy. Plus, every so-called “punishment" she's handed out has only ever worked in my favor, and I have a feeling that streak’s not ending anytime soon.
“You’re so frustrating,” she huffs, throwing her hands in the air before stomping away.
I reach for her arm, but she yanks it away just as fast.
“Wait, you're really this upset?” I ask, my voice lowering.
“Yes, I actually am this upset,” she answers, walking at a brisk pace as I attempt to keep up. “You think you can do whatever the hell you want without any consequences to your actions, but newsflash: there are.”
“I’m sorry, Hollis. I truly thought it was just a funny joke and that we’d be laughing about it together as soon as the game was over.”
She stops so suddenly that I almost run into her before she turns to face me with our bodies are only inches apart.
“You really thought I would laugh at being the punchline of your joke?” she asks, and this time what I see isn’t anger—it’s worse. The sharpness in her eyes has been replaced with hurt, and it absolutely destroys me knowing I’m the one who put it there.
“Fuck, Hollis. I’m so sorry,” I apologize, lifting my hat before dragging my other hand through my sweaty and disheveled hair. “The last thing I’d ever try to make you into is a joke. I guess I wasn’t thinking when I planned it. If anything, I just wanted to have some fun with you, and thought you’d get a kick out of it too,” I continue and shake my head, hating how pathetic this sounds, especially since it’s nowhere even close to conveying just how truly sorry I am. “I promise I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. If anything, this was my lame, and failed attempt to once again get your attention, but I fucked up. This is totally all on me.”
Her jaw tense and it’s clear she’s still upset, but thankfully her eyes seem to soften, at least a little bit. “Well, making me a part of the show isn’t the way to do it. Hell,” she says, placing her hand on my chest and giving me a light shove. “You had my attention all night, you doofus. You didn’t need to go and—”
I interrupt. “I had your attention?” I ask, wiggling my brows.
She tilts her head to the side. “Really, Fletch?”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Please, just tell me what I can do to make it up to you and I’ll do it.”
“First, you can promise to never pull that kind of shit again.”
“Done. Anything else?” I ask, willing to do just about anything to make this up to her, even if that includes getting on my hands and knees in front of everyone still inside this stadium.
“Actually, yes. You can buy all of me and my friends' drinks tonight. Oh, and pay for our Ubers home afterward,” she decides, wearing a smile as though she’s the one winning here.
“Done.”
I’m not quite sure how this qualifies as a punishment for me. This just means I get to spend more time with her. Sure, the last time I paid for her and her friends' drinks it cost me a couple hundred dollars, but given that it got me a kiss, it was totally worth it, and I’ll happily do it again if that’s what it'll take to make her forgive me.
“Perfect, then I guess I’ll be seeing you later tonight,” she says, sending me off with a wave.
I watch in complete awe as she walks away.
Life would probably be so much easier if I followed everyone’s advice and forgot all about her, and went back to my old ways, but I’ve never been one to choose the easy route. That shit is overrated. Everything worth getting requires a little extra work, and without a doubt, she’s worth every second of it.
Yes, I messed up, and pissed her off, and she had every right to be. But she’s also giving me the chance to make things right, and that’s exactly what I'll do.
15
Hollis
“Another round please, my good, sir,” I order from the man behind the bar, channeling my inner Victorian socialite. He nods, and gets to work on another round of lemon drop shots for me and my best friends.
“You really sure you want another one?” Fletcher asks, but instead of actually sounding worried, he’s got a wide, amused grin on his face, which I don’t imagine will be sticking around for much longer.
“Yep,” I say, tapping my finger on his nose. “Very sure.”
If I was thinking clearly—which obviously I’m not—I'd probably start slowing down. The pleasant little buzz I’d started with has since upgraded to full-on drunkenness. I’m still standing though, so there’s that.
The problem is, Fletch has made it practically impossible to embarrass him. So, tonight, revenge is best served in shots. Not only are we going to make his wallet hurt, we’ve put him in charge of babysitting us increasingly charming women.
