Play Along(11)

“I probably would’ve proposed a handful of times by now if you were. Nice. Mean. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

As he takes the seat next to me, Isaiah’s attention drifts to my left hand, where a very bare ring finger rests against the bar top.

Even though I haven’t worn my old engagement ring in over a year, my finger still feels too light. Too empty. I guess that’s what happens after wearing a gaudy eight-carat diamond ring around every day for four years.

The guy sitting in the stool on the other side of me drops back in drunken laughter, falling and resting on my shoulder. It isn’t until I shrug out from under him that he realizes.

“Oops, sorry,” he apologizes, and I don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on my bare legs as he does.

I close my new denim jacket around me and catch the warning glare Isaiah shoots at him, causing the guy to shift his attention back to his own friends.

“He needs to keep his eyes to himself,” Isaiah mutters as he reaches down between us, using the leg of the chair to pull me as close to him as possible.

I can’t help but laugh. “Kind of like how you are right now?”

Isaiah blatantly checks me out, and in contrast, I don’t feel the need to hide every inch of my body this time. It must be this weird trust thing I’ve got going with him.

His smile is cheeky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I grab the cocktail list from the counter. “What are we drinking?”

“We? Jesus, Kenny, this is a first date. I didn’t realize we were a ‘we’ already.”

“At what point in the night do you become less obnoxious?”

He shrugs, eyes on the drink list. “I’ve been told it’s about three or four drinks in. So, what are we having?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Never? Not even in college?”

“Not exactly. I was a little too busy studying for my MCATs to be throwing up keg stands.”

I was also a bit too busy trying to be perfect, but that’s a story for a different day.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips. “Do you want me to order a drink for you?”

“Are you going to order the most annoyingly oversized drink that will take me hours to get through since I’m only having one with you?”

“Nope. I’m going to order you a normal drink that I think you’ll like and by the end of it, if you still want to go back to your hotel, we’ll call it a night.”

I lift a brow in surprise. “Giving in already, Rhodes?”

“I’ve got faith that you’ll want to hang out with me a little longer than one.”

“How very cocky of you.”

“Self-assured,” he corrects.

Isaiah Rhodes is self-assured, but in this goofy, annoyingly charismatic manner that doesn’t feel too suffocating. He’s laid-back and easygoing in a way I can’t relate to.

But the years of being around him remind me that he’s also reckless and sometimes too carefree. He’s been the life of the party for as long as I’ve known him. He doesn’t think too far into the future or wonder about the consequences to his actions. He’s got this freedom about him, this ease and approachability that probably comes with being the younger brother of someone who always took on the responsibilities.

I can be honest and say I don’t know much more than that about him, but I would imagine that Isaiah Rhodes makes smart girls do stupid things. Which is why I’ve never given into or even thought about the constant flirting and the years of pickup lines he’s spewed my way.

He simply wants something he can’t have, and if I were to ever change my mind and give in, his thrill of the chase would be over.

“How do you feel about tequila?” he asks.

“I feel like it causes me to make poor decisions.”

“Perfect.” That signature smile is back before he turns towards the bartender and orders two of the same drink.

Isaiah keeps my high heels in his lap, his long legs open around my chair as he faces me. “When are you going to tell Dr. Fredrick to promote you?”

I exhale a startled laugh. “How long have you been waiting to ask me that?”

He looks at the watch on his wrist, his jaw ticking for some reason when he reads the time is a bit after midnight. “Three years as of today.”

“Three years?”

“We met on this day, three years ago, and I’ve wanted you to tell Dr. Fredrick to promote you every day since. You’re overqualified, Kenny, and I’m the only one who knows. You’re taping ankles and wrapping ice packs when you’re a literal fucking doctor.”

“You remember the exact date we met?” Because what the hell? I knew Isaiah had a superficial crush on me, but I’ve always kind of assumed it was simply an ongoing joke between him and his teammates.

The only woman on the staff? Oh, I for sure want to bang her. You know, that kind of thing.

“Kennedy, focus. The season is starting next week, and I think it’s time you say something. Hell, I want to say something. Fredrick has been giving you the worst shifts and the least amount of responsibility. Aren’t you over it?”

He remembers the day we met? Why? There was nothing significant about that day other than I got a new job. A job that I have come to love in a way, regardless that I don’t feel like I’m living up to my full potential. Yes, my boss is the worst, but I love the stakes of professional sports. The travel. The fans. The postseason high.