1
“Three weeks,” Roxy says, polishing a pint glass. “You look stressed.”
“I’m not stressed.”
“You’re definitely stressed.” She holds the glass up to the light, checking for spots. “It’s okay to admit defeat, Calvin. I won’t judge you.”
“You’ll absolutely judge me.”
“True.” She grins. “But I’ll try not to gloat too much when you finally cave.”
I stack clean glasses on the rack behind the bar, still warm from the dishwasher. Neon beer signs glow against the fading light outside. In a couple of hours, this place will be packed, but right now it’s just me and Roxy restocking liquor before the rush.
We’ve been doing this stupid bet for three weeks, seeing who can go the longest without hooking up. It started after Roxy gave me shit for going home with two different girls in the same weekend. She said I had no self-control. I said she was one to talk. Now we’re trying to outlast each other.
“I’m not caving,” I say. “You’re gonna cave first.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” She sets down the glass. “Before this bet, you couldn’t go a shift without getting your dick wet.”
“So?” I crouch to load the beer fridge, sliding bottles into place. “I wasn’t motivated.”
“Right. So you’re only keeping it in your pants because you don’t wanna lose?”
“Obviously. Why else would I torture myself?”
“You’re such a slut.” She laughs and swats at me with her bar towel.
“Like you’re any better.” I stand and lean against the bar. “If it weren’t for this bet, you’d already be on your knees for that basketball player from last week. The one with the neck tattoo. I saw you checking out his ass every time he walked past.”
“I have a healthy sex drive. Yours is a problem.” She grabs a cutting board and starts slicing limes. “And I can’t help that I have a thing for athletes.”
“Well, you’re in for a rough night then,” I say. “The football team’s coming in after their game. One of the guys posted it on his story.”
Her knife pauses mid-slice. “What?”
“Yep. And they’re gonna be all sweaty and testosterone-fueled when they win.” I grin. “Good luck keeping your legs closed tonight.”
“You’re the worst.” She goes back to cutting, but I catch the way her green eyes narrow, a strand of red hair falling into her face as she focuses a little too hard on the limes.
I refill the ice bins behind the bar, letting her stew. Roxy and I have been working together for two years. We both started here sophomore year, both needing the money, both juggling shifts around classes and deadlines. We didn’t even like each other at first. She thought I was a cocky asshole. I thought she was a pain in the ass. But somewhere between bitching about our manager and covering each other’s shifts, we became best friends.
Not that it stops us from giving each other constant shit.
Roxy looks up from her cutting board and smiles sweetly. “You know what comes with the football team?”
“What?”
“Cheerleaders. Sorority girls. All the hot chicks who follow them around.” She smirks. “So good luck to you too.”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you, though?” She tosses the lime wedges into a container. “Remember that brunette last Saturday? Pink dress? You were ready to dick her down in the bathroom before I reminded you about our bet.”
“I wasn’t gonna do anything.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. But I didn’t do it, did I? I’ve got three weeks in. No way I’m losing to you tonight.”
