Page 10 of Striking Range

“What?”

“Nothing.” His voice is empty, controlled, and betrays nothing.

“Let’s play a game!” Kelly’s voice suddenly rings out, gathering the attention of the little circle we’ve formed on the floor.

Skylar grips my leg and pulls himself up, gulping down what remains of his drink.

“Henry, bring me a new drink!” he yells, and Henry nods from where he stands in the kitchen, making himself what appears to be a Jack and Coke.

By the time he joins us, giving Skylar his new cup, we have a decent number of people around us. Some that I recognize, and some that I don’t.

“Okay,” Kelly starts, “let’s play Truth or Dare!”

I groan as I give her an unimpressed look. “Are we in middle school?”

“Nooo!” Skylar whines, smacking my arm. “Let’s play!”

“Birthday man has spoken!” Kelly declares. “Truth or dare, Sky?”

He grins. It’s an evil little twitch of his lips, and the first time I’ve ever seen him purposefully make an expression that looks so… suggestive. I can feel my body pulse with anticipation at whatever will come next, and on instinct, I grin with him.

“Dare, because I’m not a pussy.”

A few people in the circle laugh at his joke, and I watch as he takes a large drink from his cup without cringing.

He is most definitely fit for his bartender gig—or incredibly drunk. Maybe both?

I turn my attention to Kelly, who is watching Skylar with amused, scheming eyes. Oh, no. She’s setting the stage; our earlier conversation is coming back to me in a sudden rush of anxiety.

Kelly says, “Alright, Mr. Bigshot, I dare you to strip to your underwear and do a backflip off of the coffee table.”

Everyone in the circle choruses a loud “Ohhh,” but I stay silent as my mouth hangs open in shock. I wait for his denial, but Skylar hands me his cup and stands shakily, ripping off his shirt.

“Skylar,” I call to him, but he doesn’t even look at me, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them over his little black briefs.

Dante is sitting next to Henry, whistling loudly. I can feel my face flush as I realize everyone can see the outline of him through the thin fabric.

“Skylar,” I repeat.

Finally, he looks at me. “What, Evie?”

He’s walking toward the low table, his back to me, and before I can stop myself, my eyes fall to his ass—round and perky in those ridiculous briefs.

“You’re too drunk for that,” I tell him.

He laughs, tossing me a look over his shoulder that effectively cuts off my staring. “I can do a backflip perfectly fine when I’m sober, so why not drunk? Kelly, help me up.”

She does, holding his hand as he climbs onto the table.

My anxiety peaks, and I stand, placing myself in his way by blocking his landing spot. “I swear to fucking god, Sky, no”

I call on every ounce of self-control that I possess and keep my eyes trained on his, and not what’s right in front of my face.

“You’re being bossy as fuck,” he complains. “It’s my birthday. Let me jump. Don’t you want to see how cool I am?”

My eyes narrow in on him. “I already think you’re cool. Get. Down.”

Skylar bends at the waist, his evil little grin growing wider. More devious, more seductive. My heart is pounding erratically as I try to wrap my mind around this—this new version of him.