Page 38 of The Beautiful Collision
Time to give the people what they want, my mind mocks me.Story of your life.
I push off from the wall and head to the kitchen, an idea forming. I grab bottles from our meager alcohol stash, adding flourishes to every movement like I’m Tom Cruise inCocktail, and within a minute I’ve got a crowd around me.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I announce, loud enough to carry over the music, “I present to you my latest creation.” I pour the concoction into plastic cups, making sure Maya’s watching from across the room. Our eyes meet, and I flash her my cockiest grin. “I call it… The Ice Queen.”
The name lands exactly how I intended. I see her spine straighten, her eyes narrow just slightly. But there’s something else there too, a flash of what looks like amusement or attraction, and she smirks at me like I’ve just issued a challenge she’s been waiting for.
“First round’s on me!” I call out, distributing cups to eager hands. “The drink is strong and sweet, in honor of our hostess.”
I’m mid-pour when a freshman approaches, looking nervous. “Um, Maine, Maya wanted me to give you a message.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
The kid clears his throat. “She said that, uh, to tell you, uh, you’ll have to try harder than that.”
The guys around me “ooooh” like we’re in middle school, and I can’t help but laugh. Even Cooper looks amused, and he’s got the personality of drywall. But I can’t help but watch Maya, because her smirk is loaded with both amusement and relief.
Because I know we’re only having the party because she was worried about me.
And it’s clear she needs this—running the show, queen of the chaos—like air.
Which means I’m one step closer to winning the bet.
Game on.
I drain my Ice Queen cocktail in one long mouthful, then spot one of Maya’s nursing friends, Priya, by the makeshift bar. She’s pretty, although she seems to take herself a little too seriously, complete with someseriouslyintense glasses. But, most importantly, she’s in Maya’s inner circle.
Perfect.
I slide up next to her, turning the charm dial to eleven. “Hey, you’re in Maya’s program, right? I’ve been meaning to ask—do you knoweverybone in the body?”
She giggles—actually giggles—and launches into an explanation. I don’t give a shit about anatomy unless it involves the specific woman with the specific curves currently dancing across the room, but I nod and smile as Priya talks, making sure I’m angled so Maya has a clear view of us.
It takes exactly three minutes.
“Excuse me.” Maya appears at my elbow like she materialized from thin air, completely ignoring Priya. “You’ve got something—“ She reaches up, and I freeze as her fingers brush my jaw. The touch is light, clinical, but it sends a signal straight to my dick. “—right there.”
She shows me her thumb like she wiped something away, but we both know there was nothing there. Then, while Priya watches with her mouth slightly open, Maya straightens my collar with both hands, smoothing the fabric down my chest. The gesture is so casually possessive, so publicly claiming, I freeze.
“Much better,” she says, her voice honey-sweet, then finally acknowledges Priya with a smile that’s all teeth. “Sorry, were you two talking?”
And then she’s gone, leaving me standing there like an idiot with a half-hard dick and Priya looking at me with new understanding. It’s insane how easily this woman controls the social environment around her, and she just took my opening move and turned the tables with interest.
“So you and Maya…” Priya starts.
“It’s complicated,” I manage, which is the understatement of the century.
The game escalates from there. I find her in the living room, laughing at something some dude in a backwards cap is saying. My territorial instincts—which I didn’t even know I had untilabout five minutes ago—go into overdrive, but I force myself to play it cool.
I walk past, casual as hell, and snag her drink right out of her hand. She gasps—actually gasps—as I take a long sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time. The guy she’s talking to looks between us, clearly trying to figure out what’s happening.
“Thanks, I was thirsty,” I say, then wink at her and keep walking.
I can feel her eyes burning into my back. That’s a point to me.
Except Maya doesn’t just even the score, she blows up the scoreboard.
Twenty minutes later, I’m by the speakers with Rook, his arm slung around my shoulders as he shouts something about the next home game. I see her approaching through the crowd, and my body goes on high alert. She doesn’t say anything, just slides herself under my other arm like she belongs there.
