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Dereck
Rowan’s eyes are on me as I slide off the barstool and walk across the room towards their table. Matt and Bryce’s eyes are on my back, I can feel them, but I don’t hesitate, and I don’t slow down. I’ll show those fuckers a thing or two about picking up a woman.
A few women in the bar watch me walk, their eyes drifting over my ass, a couple of them whispering to each other, giggling. I feel good. Confident. I’ve got this in the bag. Who cares if it’s Rowan Bates? At the end of the day, she’s the same as any other.
“Hi,” I say, holding out my hand as I get to Rowan’s table. The other two girls, friends of Rowan’s, eye me suspiciously. The chick with pink hair licks her lips like a hungry animal as I squeeze in between her and the other girl, eyes still firmly on my target. “I’m Dereck.”
“I know who you are.” Rowan’s striking green eyes burn through me, brow furrowing, and I can feel the icy anger radiating from her pores. She’s even more beautiful up close, down to the intense color of her eyes and tiny dimple on her right cheek. But despite her obvious beauty, she has a look to kill, and it almost, almost, makes me turn around and flee.
“Oh, well, I’m glad you remember me.” Like an idiot, I drop my hand onto the table awkwardly, knowing that if I looked back at Bryce and Matt right now, they’d be laughing.
Rowan stares at me, and it’s difficult to read her expression. A small part of me wants to put my hands up in case she starts to swing at me, but the other part of me knows damn well she won’t. Not the Rowan I know, anyway.
“Hey,” says the pink-haired girl to the right of me. “You’re a football player, aren’t you? The quarterback? I saw you play last year. It was impressive.”
“Yeah.” I turn to the girl and smile, but it’s forced. I have no interest in the other two. It’s Rowan Bates I want.
“That’s right,” the other girl says, slamming her palm on top of the table. “I thought I recognized you.” She’s cute, this one, in a nerdy librarian kind of way. Tall and slender with a pencil behind her ear and brown hair tied up on the base of her head. Not my type, but she might be good for Bryce.
“Yeah, that’s me—” I start to say, but I’m cut off by Rowan’s voice, slicing through the air like a hot iron, silencing all three of us.
“What do you want, Dereck?” Her voice is steady, words enunciated like smooth glass carving through my soul. I clear my throat and force myself to look at her once more, and very real concerns of being turned to stone haunt me.
“I’d like to ask you on a date,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. I flash my best, award-winning smile, but I feel like an idiot, a feeling that is very much new to me. I don’t like it.
“A date,” Rowan repeats, deadpan, and there’s nothing in her tone whatsoever that teases me with even the tiniest chance of redemption. The muscles in her jaw twitch, nostrils flaring. An angry bull, ready to run me down and ground me into the dirt.
“Hey, Dereck?” the librarian-girl says, tugging on my arm. “You might want to go now.”
“Don’t worry,” says pink-hair, clutching the arm of my jacket. “I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, um, sure.” Casting one last glance in Rowan’s direction, I slide awkwardly from the chair, mind racing, unable to comprehend what exactly has just happened. The pink-haired girl–Carly, she keeps telling me, even though I don’t really care–is hanging off one arm, chatting about something I’m not hearing, as we back away from Rowan’s table. I sneak a glance back at Matt and Bryce. Bryce is laughing, clearly pleased, but Matt isn’t even smiling. He’s still watching Rowan, dusky eyes only focused on her and nothing else.
“I’m gonna take off now,” I shout over Carly’s shoulder. Bryce puts his hand up in a wave, but Matt doesn’t even look my way. I’ll leave tonight with Carly, just for a good fuck, maybe, but this isn’t the end.
Not even close.
