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It looked an awful lot like… longing.

And damn it, it nearly cut me at my knees.

I reached for humour before I could fuck it up somehow—or worse, before she could hear my heart pounding in my chest, bruising my ribs from the inside.

“God, I’ll get you two a room. Just… stop,” I grumbled under my breath, foot tapping impatiently against the tile floor. “It’s your turn, Romeo,” I said, a bit louder, since their faces were still welded together.

Mia tucked a little giggle behind her palm.

Stop being so goddamn—

“Yeah, yeah,” he drawled, stretching ostentatiously, the stupid Christmas sweater on full display. “You’re just jealous,” he grinned, and I fought the urge to chuck a nacho at his smug face. And by the way Pri’s eyes glimmered, and her mouth curled into a knowing little smirk, they both knew exactly what was going through my mind.

Assholes.

He stepped to the approach, wiped his hands on his jeans, and picked up a heavy ball, then blew Pri a kiss over his shoulder that made me fake-gag and took the shot.

Though I was pretty sure I could beat them alone, my body leaned forward a little.

The dull clank and rattle of pins clattering to the floor was followed by a flashing eight on the scoreboard.

Pri cheered and pumped her fist in the air, dancing on the spot.

Then, my initials flashed on the screen again, and I rolled my shoulders and stepped up to the ball return.

My sleeves came up and my hand slotted against one of the heavier ones, the solid plastic a little cold.

And because I’d vowed to be an insufferable asshole to her today, I locked eyes with her over my shoulder.

“Watch and learn, Mia.”

My lips curled into a little smirk I knew would piss her off, and the fire in her eyes kicked up as her jaw worked, like she was biting down on something deliciously snarky.

Naturally, my smirk only widened.

I shuffled to the approach, hand flexing a little on the ball, knowing she was watching, before I sent it flying.

A small fizz of victory shot inside me as I allowed myself a quiet, early celebration at the smooth sound of the ball rolling fast over the lacquered wood.

A thunk, then a loud clatter.

A split-second later, the scoreboard buzzed and whooped. Strike.

I turned towards them, lips curled into a shit-eating grin as a few pissed-off claps rang out. I sank into a little mock bow that drew a snarl and a flash of teeth out of her.

She either wanted to bite me or throttle me.

It shouldn’t have turned me on as much as it did.

Something’s definitely wrong with me.

Then I ambled back to the little table, took a sip of my drink—ignoring Pri’s mutters about a “big head” and Mark’s joke that they may end up burying me tonight—and deployed a casual grenade.

“My offer to teach you still stands,” I drawled. “Newbie.”

I winked for good measure, muscles burning as I braced myself for the can she was white-knuckling to fly at my head.

Game fucking on, baby.