“I’m proud of you, Calvin. You proved me wrong.” She pulls me into a hug.
Her body presses against mine, all soft curves and floral perfume. I hug her back automatically, and all I can think about is how different this feels from the hard muscle of Brock’s body. His woodsy scent. His strength. How small I felt next to him.
We break apart, and Roxy puts a hand on my arm. “I’m calling it. You win.”
“Huh?”
“Our bet. You win. You just proved your point.” She laughs. “Three weeks of blue balls, and you still turn down a sure thing. I can’t compete with that. I officially concede.”
I’m supposed to feel triumphant. I should be gloating. I should be rubbing it in her face. But of course, I didn’t win by playing fair. I cheated. And it doesn’t feel like a victory at all.
“Roxy…” I start, guilt twisting in my gut.
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you.” She pulls out her phone. “Fifty bucks, right? I’ll Venmo you now.”
“No, that’s not?—”
“A bet’s a bet. You earned it.”
My phone buzzes a second later.Roxy paid you $50.00 for “your self-control is impressive.”
The irony is so thick I could choke on it. Self-control. If she only knew.
“Alright, now that’s settled,” she says, putting her phone away. “I need to know everything about that football player. The hot one with the dark hair.” She lowers her voice. “Did you get his number for me? You were talking to him for a while.”
“What? No. Just guy talk. Football stuff.”
“Since when do you care about football?”
“Since I work at a bar and have to talk to customers.”
“Well, if you didn’t do the work for me, guess I’ll have to do it myself.” She unties her hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. “This one’s too good to pass up.”
A cold knot forms in my stomach. “What are you doing?”
She checks her reflection in the dark mirror behind the bar and fixes her lip gloss. “You won the bet, Calvin. Now let me have my consolation prize.”
“Rox—”
“Why not?” She turns to me, hands on her hips. “He’s the hottest guy I’ve seen in here in months. And he’s an athlete. You know that’s my type. Clearly, my self-control isn’t as impressive as yours. So I’m going over there and see if he wants to celebrate.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Give me one good reason.”
I’ve got about ten, and I can’t say a single one.
“That’s what I thought.” She grins. “Wish me luck.”
And before I can stop her, she’s walking toward his table, red hair loose, hips swaying in those tight jeans.
Straight up to the guy who swallowed my load an hour ago.
The guy whose cologne I can still smell on my skin.
6
“So you’re the last one from your team,” Roxy says, leaning across the bar with a grin.
