Page 117 of Endgame

He grinned. “Been to many parties, Six?”

“Nope,” I replied, deciding there was no point in lying. Rourke and I weren’t enemies anymore. There was no need for me to keep such a tall guard up around him. “I’m not a bigpartyperson.”

His gaze slid from my face to the table behind me. “Huh,” he mused, reaching around me for what I could only describe as a long steel contraption with a hose dangling from it. “I never would’ve guessed.”

I watched with reluctant admiration as Rourke quickly went to work on hooking up the pump to the keg. He looked amazing tonight in faded denim jeans and a fitted black button down. “Wow,” I said with a smirk when he was done. “Watching you set that up was actually sort of attractive.”

Rourke filled two plastic cups with beer and handed me one. “If you think that’s attractive, wait until you see my dance moves.”

Wait…“You like to dance?”

“I’m full of surprises, Six.” Rourke waggled his brows and grinned. “You’ll see.”

“WHEN WILL I SEE?” I asked several hours later as I sat in the passenger seat of Rourke’s truck. Molly’s imaginary party had turned out to be a huge success, and I had consumed far too much alcohol for a school night – hence why I had to leave my car at her place and was being driven home.

In my defense, I drank because I was frustrated. And I was frustrated because Rourke hadn’t touched me. With the exception of that one kiss in the back yard when he first arrived, Rourke hadn’t laid a singlewantedfinger on me the entire night – much to my drunken dismay.

“When will you see what?” Rourke replied in a coaxing tone, eyes on the road ahead of us.

“You said I’d see your full bag of surprises,” I slurred, leaning my head against the window. “You lied to me.”

“Bag of surprises?” I heard him laugh softly. “How much did you drink, Six?”

“Too much.” I hiccupped and wiped my mouth with my hand before asking, “Did you win tonight?”

“We did.”

“Did you score a goal?”

“I scored a touchdown, Six,” Rourke chuckled. “Five of them.”

I hiccupped again. “With your hands?”

“With my hands,” he confirmed, laughing loudly now.

“Wanna score again?” I purred, trying my best to sound sexy. “In my goal?”

“Six,” Rourke groaned. “You’re drunk.”

“So?” I grumbled. “You’re supposed to want me.”

“I do,” he promised in that patronizing tone one used when speaking to a drunk person.

“You didn’t want me tonight,” I huffed.

“Because I didn’t feel you up in front of half the school?” he countered.

Yeah.I shrugged. “No.”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’d be your friend,” he added with a smirk. “What kind of friend would I be if I felt you up in front of half the school?”

“The best kind,” I grumbled. “Asshole.”

“Well this is a first,” Rourke laughed in amusement. “I’ve never been chewed out for being too nice before.”

The truck pulled to a stop then and he killed the engine. I heard the snap of his seatbelt seconds before a car door slammed and then another opened.

“Come on,” Rourke coaxed, unbuckling me and lifting me into his arms. “I’ll take you to bed.”

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