Page 67 of The Game We Played

“To the bootleggers!” The DJ hollers before the lights go out.

“Holy shit,” I mutter. “This moonshine glows in the dark.”

“Is this shit going to poison us?” Brock asks.

I frown at him. He can’t see me, but I’m frowning. “Stop being grumpy.”

“Masters of the sneaky snips and secret stashes. Thanks for keeping the party alive,” Alaia toasts. We drink our shots and the lights come back on.

“I’m beginning to wonder why I agreed to come out tonight,” Gage says as he sets his glass down.

“Live a little, Gage. Maybe Addy will show up later,” Alaia says and he perks up.

“I’m first,” Brock declares before grabbing a ball. He scans the lane and pauses. “Why the hell is there a toy rum barrel in our lane?”

“Because this isSirens & Strikes Night,” Alaia says.

“Make sense,” he demands. He'd better watch his tone with her. I don’t care if he’s bigger than me. I won’t stand for anyone being rude, mean, or grumpy with her.

Alaia motions to the lanes. “Each lane has a hidden ‘contraband item’. If your ball knocks it loose, you win a prize.”

“What kind of prize?”

My teammates are interested now. Professional athletes are competitive. We like to win. But we hate to lose more.

Alaia points to a table near the bar. “There are the prizes. You can pick out your own.”

Brock drops his ball and stalks off to the table.

Alaia leans close to me. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s competitive the same way the rest of us are, but if there isn’t anything his son, Jace, will want, he’s out.”

“There’s tons of cool stuff. Free ghost tours. A tour of the underground tunnels the smugglers used during Prohibition. Lots of stuff a teenage boy will enjoy. When I win, I’ll pick something cool out for Jace.”

I lift an eyebrow. “When you win? You’re competing against professional athletes.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Is bowling a sport? I think of it more as a leisure activity.”

“Leisure activity or not, I’m kicking your ass.”

“We’ll see,” she sings before glancing around the bowling alley. “By the way, where’s the press?” she whispers.

“Press? Why would the press be here?”

“Duh. To photograph the two of us together. To show how you’ve been reformed.”

“This isn’t a PR stunt. The guys and I were going out. You had the night off, so I invited you.”

My stomach sours. She thinks I invited her because this is a PR stunt. She has no clue I want to spend all of my time with her. She thinks this relationship is fake. I fucking hate the word fake.

She rubs her hands together. “Your mistake.”

Hold on. She doesn’t care the press isn’t here. Maybe she wants to spend her time with me after all. I want to ask her, but she made herself pretty clear the other morning in the hotel. She doesn’t want a relationship with me.

Unacceptable. Alaia is the first woman I’ve ever wanted to have a relationship with. The first woman I’m interested in spending more than one night with.

I need to convince her I’m worth taking a chance on. That there’s more to me than the goofball, player the press can’t get enough of.