Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(11)
She kills the ignition, shifting to look at me. “You’re going to reaffiliate with Kappa, right?”
“Soon.” As a transfer student, I’ve been given the choice between switching to early alumni status with my sorority or joining the Boyd University chapter. Reaffiliating seems like the obvious choice, but there’s something holding me back from fully committing.
“I can get them to rush the application,” she sings.
“It’s on my to-do list.”
What I don’t tell her is that every time I go to draft the request email, I freeze. Maybe it’s too much change all at once.
CHAPTER 6
99 PROBLEMS
TYLER
This is the longest round of Screw Your Neighbor I’ve ever played. Or maybe it just feels that way because I’m trying to stay on my best behavior and I’m not doing a great job of it. It’s taking all of my effort to keep my attention focused on the game.
Laughter erupts from the adjacent living room where Seraphina is standing with Bailey and Siobhan. Something inside me stirs, and I grip my beer tighter, channeling every shred of restraint I have to keep myself from looking at her again.
Proof the universe likes to fuck with me? She’s wearing one of the tiniest dresses I’ve ever seen. It’s purple, and it looks like it’s been painted on. I’d like nothing more than to be the one to peel it off at the end of the night. Since I value having my limbs in working order, that obviously isn’t an option. But you can bet your ass I’ll be thinking about it later when I’m alone.
My strategy of pretending we never fucked is failing miserably.
“How are you liking Boyd so far, Reid?” Siobhan drapes an arm around Dallas’s neck, lowering to sit on his lap. We have more than enough chairs for everyone; they’re just attached at the hip. Her plane landed while we were at practice this afternoon, and she was at our place by the time we got home. I’m just glad my room is in the basement, so I’ll be spared hearing them “catch up.”
Reid snatches his beer off the table like the very question makes him want to drink. “Been a big change, but the team seems solid so far.”
That’s a rehearsed answer if I’ve ever heard one. He sounds like he’s being interviewed by a reporter on TV. There’s definitely a story behind why he transferred. I’ve heard rumors ranging from “family reasons” to a disagreement with team management to my personal favorite: having allegedly beaten the shit out of one of his teammates.
“It sure is,” Dallas says cheerfully. If he picks up on the evasiveness in Reid’s response, he doesn’t let on. He retrieves the pile of haphazard cards and shuffles them for his turn as dealer. “We’re going to crush Maine this weekend.”
Unsurprisingly, Dallas is the one who talked us into inviting Reid tonight. He coined it “Operation Bury the Hatchet” and rightfully pointed out it would be a dick move not to include him when the rest of the team was already coming. Hard to argue with that, so Chase and I relented. I sort of figured Reid wouldn’t come anyway, but to my surprise, he did. At least he came bearing a case of top shelf beer, so points for that.
Ever since Reid showed up at the door, Dallas has been running interference like a man on a mission, hell-bent on smoothing over any past grudges for the sake of team harmony. It’s been fine, I guess. At least his presence has taken some of the heat off of me, so no one’s noticed how tense I am. Tonight is the only night this month I’ve scheduled to let myself cut loose and I’m more on edge than ever.
Dallas leans forward, distributing cards around the table. My willpower glitches, and I steal another glance at Seraphina. She takes a sip of her White Claw, bringing my focus to her perfect, full lips. I shift my weight in my seat, mesmerized. It’s impossible not to think of all the other ways I’d like to put her mouth to use.
Almost like she can sense me looking at her, she glances over and our eyes lock from across the room. She flashes me a flirty, knowing grin that I feel myself instinctively return.
Fuck. Way to be obvious, man.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to look away and refocus on the conversation at the table. Sort of. Everyone is talking about some new movie, but I’m not following along enough to say which.
One by one, everyone else gets eliminated from the game until it’s down to me and Chase. It’s a miracle I’ve made it this far with Seraphina distracting me from across the room. What I still don’t understand is why I’m so affected by her. It was just sex. It didn’t mean anything. It never does. I’ve never thought twice about it after with anyone else.
“Suck it, loser.” Chase throws down the winning card and reclines in his seat with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him off. He’s the worst winner in the history of mankind. Dallas just so happens to be the worst loser, which means our house is rife with competitive clashes all the time. Neither has any chill. “Be right back. I need to grab my phone.”
I set down my beer and push back my chair, heading for the kitchen to retrieve my cell from where I left it charging on the counter. Realistically, I don’t give a flying fuck about my phone. I probably won’t even look at my texts. It’s mostly an excuse to compose myself.