Page 8 of One Bet

Instead, I sat there smiling like a fool as another guy walked up, touched her on the shoulder, and said, “Susie got us a table. I’ll get the drinks, what do you want?”

She glanced at him then back at me and waves of red rolled up her neck to her cheeks and I wondered if she was remembering the night she’d licked salt for her tequila shots off my neck, because I sure as hell was remembering.

She cleared her throat and smiled softly. “Just a…diet soda with lime.”

He nodded and walked behind the bar as if he owned the place, and I remembered him, Alex something. Our bartender from college, his parents did actually own the place. Then it dawned on me, Alex was the boyfriend. I hated him, the lucky bastard.

I could’ve been that guy; if only I’d figured out a way to make her forgive me for making that fucking bet.

One Decade Ago

Ryder tossed his game controller on the couch.

“Fuck!”

I’d kicked his ass for about the tenth time this morning and gloating had lost most of its magic appeal. But I still took the money he bet me on each round of the game.

I shrugged and stood. “You can’t play GTA, or Madden, and nobody is calling your ass for duty, maybe you should stick with ballet.” Little known fact, but ballet helped with coordination and muscle strengthening, endurance, and balance. None of which Ryder would ever be praised for, but he protected me on the line and gave me time in the pocket and if ballet helped him do that, I’d suit up in my own leotard and plie right alongside him. But he hated that I knew about his dance class so, of course, I used it to my advantage. He wanted to go pro more than he was worried about what anyone thought, except me. It didn’t make him less of an asshole though, and I didn’t mind teasing him about it. “I bet you look hot in a tutu.”

“Yeah well, your girl likes it when I take it off.” His eyes narrowed, but I couldn’t resist, much the same as he couldn’t resist being an asshole.

The joke was on him, I didn’t have a girl, not a steady one. “Look at it this way. You and your dates can share clothes.”

He nodded, almost smiling, but with Ryder, that kind of facial flex meant something sinister was on its way.

“At least my dates can go out in the sun without bursting into flames.” So, he knew about my time with Avery. “You lose a bet or something?”

Actually, since I’d been hanging out with Avery, luck had been on my side. I’d been kicking ass at practice, couldn’t throw an interception or an incomplete pass, but I kept it to myself. “You don’t like her?”

“Like her? Fuck, no. Am I scared she’s going to turn you into a toad if this all goes south? Yeah.” He laughed. “Swear to God. If I see a single wart sprouting on you, I’m calling for an exorcism, no questions asked, I got your back, buddy.”

What he had was a bunch of mixed-up ideas about vampires, witches, and Satanists. Apparently, he couldn’t decide which classification fit her, and I didn’t care to correct him. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Why are you wasting time with her anyway? I mean, first, you had Beth Cooper then that hot little peace and love hippie wanting a piece of your action. Now you’re dating the dark side.” He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and crossed his ankles. This was the most interest I’d ever seen Ryder take in a person whose panties he wasn’t trying to get into. But something about him said he wasn’t as disinterested as he seemed to want me to think.

“We’re working on a project together.” Not like I could tell him more than that without betraying Avery and I was curious to see how this all played out.

“Talk to the teacher. You can probably get out of it.” Ryder used his status as an All-American football player to get out of anything he didn’t want to do, mostly homework.

“Nah. I’m good.” I hadn’t expected to enjoy being with Avery as much as I did. But now, thinking about her made me smile.

He stared at me, and I looked away.

“You want her.” He cocked an eyebrow like he’d made some big revelation. “Dude. There are about a thousand girls at this school who’ll be happy to polish your trophy without you having to get a tetanus shot and see a priest after. Molly Orman. Shala Hughes.” He ticked off about five more names on his fingers before he narrowed his eyes. “Sigmas. Omegas. Kappas. You’re Keaton Shaw, a legend, a phenom. Panties melt when you walk into a room. You don’t need Vampira when there’s an entire sack of sorority girls ready to scream your name into their pillows.”

And there it was. He’d made the point I’d been ignoring, I wanted Avery. “She wants to be a Sigma.”

“And I want a bigger dick.” He looked down. “Of course, I already have to tie it down to keep it from peeking out over my jeans, so bigger might be overkill.”

I rolled my eyes at his preoccupation with size. He had the biggest truck, the biggest room in the house, the biggest bank account and he made sure everyone knew it. Dick size was just another on his list.

He laughed and took a beer from the bucket next to the sofa. After he handed me one, he popped his open and took a long swig before he spoke again.

“There’s no way she’ll ever be a Sigma. Even if you can, and I doubt it, make her half-ass presentable, she doesn’t have the money or status.”

As I stared at my beer, rather than strangle him like I wanted to, he chuckled. “I mean, I’d probably do her so long as she doesn’t bring out her spell book or try to soak me in her cauldron” He wiggled his eyebrows “but she isn’t really the kind of girl that’s going to fit in when we graduate and go pro.”

Not something I hadn’t considered already, but it wasn’t as much about transforming her into a Sigma as it was about helping her…get Ryder. Shit. “Maybe.”