Page 94 of Scoring the Player
“Felix,” she says my name all breathy and nervous. “Hi.”
“Hey.” I lean closer. “I texted you.”
“Oh, I…” She trails off and won’t quite meet my eyes. “I’m sorry. I meant to reply and then the night kind of got away from me.”
I can’t say that doesn’t sting, but I force a smile. “No biggie. So, how was the tournament?”
“I won.” Her shoulders inch higher like she’s a little embarrassed to talk about her victory.
“That’s amazing.” I can tell by her body language (and the side-eye Jane is giving me from her other side) that sweeping her off her feet into a spinning hug would be crossing some imaginaryex-boyfriendline, so I hold up my hand for her to high five. “I knew you’d do it. Congrats!”
“Thanks.” She presses her palm to mine. I close my fingers around hers to hold it hostage. The guy she was dancing with earlier picks this moment to call out to her.
She pulls away from me and opens her stance to include him.
He gives me a quick glance before he asks her, “Want to be my partner in darts?”
She hesitates, but nods. “Yeah. Fair warning, though, I’m terrible.”
“I’ll teach you,” he says.
A pretty blush climbs up her face. Fuck, I hate every second of this. I think I’m having a heart attack. My chest is tight and blood pounds in my ears. Twenty-two seems young for a heart attack, but I’m not a doctor.
“Steven, do you know Felix?” she asks, probably trying to break the tension rolling off me.
“Yeah, of course.” He leans against the bar. His arm brushes against hers and stays there. “How’s it going, Walters?”
I know Steven pretty well from hanging out with Jordan. He’s all right, I guess. I might have even liked him once, before he put his hands on Dahlia. Now he’s just some guy in my fucking way.
“Going okay,” I say. Or that’s what I think I say. I’m not really interested in chatting up Steven right now.
He nods and then looks back at Dahlia expectantly.
“I’ll be right there,” she tells him.
When he’s gone, I invade her space. I need to break through the weirdness. Once upon a time, this might have been a perfectly fine interaction with her, but not anymore.
“Are we okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, of course.”
“It doesn’t feel okay.”
“It was bound to be awkward the first few times we ran into each other, right? We’ll figure out how to be friends again.” This time, her smile is genuine. She really believes that. And fuck me, I finally realize the problem. I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. Not if that means we dance around each other and barely talk. If this is what it means to be friends, then I don’t want to be her friend. I never wanted to be her friend.
“I better go,” she says. “It was good to see you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
She walks backward a step, still hitting me with that smile, then turns on her heel to go find Steven.
A girl at the bar slides over. Her arm touches mine and I flinch.
“Hey,” she says. “Want to buy me a drink?”
I just stare at her for a second. Long enough to realize there’s no world in which I want to hook up with some other chick tonight. “No. Sorry.”
I head back to the guys. As much as I don’t want to, I give Dahlia space the rest of the night. I play pool with Lucas, and then Brogan and Archer show up and the four of us get a pitcher and a table. I’m across the bar from her, but I’m still aware of Dahlia’s every move. Steven taught her how to play darts, and I’m now considering burning down the boards in every bar across town. She went from timid and shy to throwing like a pro and probably kicking all their asses.
