Page 53 of The Beautiful Collision
Exactly what I need.
Because the past few days in our apartment have been… wrong. Ever since The Blanket and Lasagna Incident (and yes, that’s what I’m calling it in my head because giving it any other name would require acknowledging what it actually was), there’s been this shift between us.
A dangerous softening of the edges.
We’ve continued having sex and calling it casual, but it’s what’s been happening around that that’s starting to worry me. Shared moments, tender touches, laughs aplenty—and not just because I’m buttering her up to win the bet.
I’m feeling something for Maya Iabsolutely cannotafford.
Because the bet still looms large over me and over us, and is in fact the reason Rook has organized this night out at the club.He wants to get eyes on his investment, so he invited Sophie and Maya and some other girls as well, and the rest of the hockey idiots are along for the ride, too.
“Yo, Hamilton!” Rook’s elbow catches me in the ribs, jolting me back to the present. “Cold feet?”
The entire hockey team knows about the bet—word travels fast when there’s money on the line—and I can feel their eyes on me like spotlights now, waiting for the next act in the Maine Show. Most of the guys think I’ve got it in the bag, but little do they know I’m actually developing real feelings for Maya.
Well, time to give them what they want.
“Just scoping the territory,” I tell Rook, forcing my trademark grin, the one that says I’m completely in control and that this is all just another Saturday night.
Maya is across the room with her friends, and even in the chaotic lighting, she’s impossible to miss. She’s wearing a dress that should be illegal—black, tight, reaching mid-thigh—and when she turns to talk to someone, the fabric shifts, and I catch a glimpse of the curve of her ass that has me staring.
“So?” Schmidt slides up beside us, beer in hand. “Are you making any progress? The clock’s ticking, man. Finals are in, what, six weeks?”
I have six weeks to make Maya fall in love with me or I owe six guys a hundred bucks each. Money I literally cannot afford to lose, not after my latest donation to the ‘keep-my-parents-out-of-the-shit’ fund, and when I’m basically eating Maya’s food when mine runs out.
I wouldn’t feel like such an asshole about that—or about my feelings for her—if I could get out of the bet or if I’d never made the damn thing. Because, then, her falling in love with me would be a positive, rather than starting a ticking time bomb that would detonate her heart when she finds out the truth.
So, here I am, getting crushed.
Between feelings I can’t afford and a bet I can’t afford to get out of.
Just playing for time.
“Progress?” I force a laugh that sounds more confident than I feel. “Dude, I’m playing the long game here. You can’t rush perfection.”
But Rook’s not buying it. “Long game, my ass. You’ve been fucking her for weeks and there’s no evidence she’s on her way to Love Town.”
The challenge in his voice sets my teeth on edge. This is the problem with my reputation—I’ve spent so long being the life of any party, the guy who makes big claims and then backs them up—that now I have to live up to it. So I do what I always do, decide it’s time for a grand gesture.
I flag down a waitress and slip her a twenty-buck tip. “Your boss is Danny, right?”
She nods. “So?”
“Well, he owes me one, so ask him to comp me a bottle of champagne—the good stuff—and send it over to that table.” I point at Maya’s table. “Cool?”
She gives me a look that says I better not be wasting her time, but twenty bucks on the table for her combines with my confidence. I’ve got no doubt Danny will agree to the request, because while I’m short of cash, I’m big on social currency, and I’d taken his kid under my wing last year before he moved schools.
“And give her this.” I grab a cocktail napkin and scrawl a brief message:For the queen.
It’s cheesy, but it’s also public and visible, the kind of move my teammates expect from me. It’ll get them off my back about the bet for a while and stop them from calling it in early when they don’t see any progress. It’s a hit down the ice to buy time for a line change.
But it’ll also do absolutelynothingto dispel the growing magic between Maya and me. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t want it to, even though that magic is getting me into hot water. So I just have to hope that in buying time I can find a way to score the girl and pay off the bet, because fuck knows I want the girl.
Get her to declare her everlasting love, say it back to her, win the bet, and don’t tell her, my mind helpfully suggests, not for the first time, but I disregard it.
Because if Maya and I are going to be anything, it can’t start on a lie.
No, I need to figure this out.
