“You’re changing the subject. Is that because you know you’ll fail? No spontaneity for our captain,” Lucca says.
“It’s not about that. I could if I wanted to?—”
“Are you switching your bet, then?” Lucca says.
Before I can speak, Zev slaps a twenty-dollar bill into Lucca’s palm. “I’d bet on Callum any day. There’s a reason he’s our captain.”
Say what? I wasn’t planning to do anything. According to Lucca, I bet against myself. Did Zev miss that?
“I’ll bet on Cal.” Sawyer takes out his wallet.
“Whoa,” I say. “I’m not even sure what we’re betting on.” I shake my head, looking at the five teammates around me.
“Something,” Lucca says, his words slow and melodic in that slight Brazilian accent of his. “Unexpected.”
“Me too.” Maverick smacks his bill into Lucca’s hand. “I’m betting on Whitaker.”
Reed follows suit.
“Finally, we’ve got a party.” Lucca laughs, holding up the bills in his hand. “No offense, mighty captain, but the odds aren’t in their favor. You said so yourself.” He winks at me. “If you guys win, I return your money and double it. If I win, I take the cash for myself.” Lucca’s dark brows bounce.
The others nod.
Why are they agreeing to this?
And how can I let any of them down?
“Okay, Cap.” Lucca holds out his arms. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Give me the unexpected.”
“Sixty seconds?” I spout, peering at the circle of my teammates.
“Fifty-eight,” Lucca says.
I spin, looking around the outside of the bar. Something unexpected? What am I supposed to do? What outcome are they looking for?
“Forty-nine,” Lucca says. He’s not helping. What do these guys want from me?
I walk to the left, then the right. But I’m not sure what to do with what I’ve been given—a block of sidewalk, a bar door, a few cars on the street.
And then—shewalks out.
The little brunette who sang tonight. Okay, a lot of girls sang tonight. But this one chose to sing next to a guy who should be signed by Sony. And when she didn’t meet his standards, he attempted to cut her off. They basically broke up on stage. He told her she sucked—in front of the entire crowd.
Her night might be going worse than mine.
“Thirty-eight seconds left,” Lucca says.
There’s nothing else.
Only her.
So, I let the faces of my team blur behind me and step in front of the girl. I clear my throat. “Hi,” I say, heart thumping. This isn’t normal for me. Which I suppose is the point. But talking to a stranger on the street—one not asking for a Red Tails autograph—is out of my comfort zone.
“Hi,” she says, and despite her lousy night, the right side of her mouth lifts in a crooked grin.
Which makes me smile in return.
I clear my throat, hearing Lucca count down inside my head.
