The Score

My ego, however, refuses to stand for this, which is why thirty minutes later I find myself sliding out the backseat of a taxi and stepping onto the curb in front of Malone’s.

My peacoat keeps me toasty as I linger near the door debating my plan of action. A couple of college guys pop out of the bar, and I’m gratified when both of them stop to check me out. Ha. And their appreciative gazes are based solely on my makeup and fuck-me-silly updo. They’d probably be salivating if they saw what was underneath my coat.

I reach for my phone. Here, I tell Hannah. Where r u?

Her: Pool table.

Taking a breath, I walk inside and make my way through the crowd. The music vibrates in the floor beneath my heels as I pass the booths on the left and head toward the archway where the main room opens onto the game room.

There are half a dozen more booths and tall standing tables in this section of the bar. I instantly spot my best friend. She’s talking to Logan and Hollis, while Garrett circles one of the green-felt tables with a pool cue in his hand. Holding a beer bottle, Fitzy is watching Garrett line up a shot, his own cue resting on the wall beside him.

I finally catch a glimpse of Dean. He’s almost hidden from view in the corner, talking to a curvy brunette in skinny jeans and a low-cut sweater.

Nice sweater, sweetie, but I can beat that.

I unbutton my coat, slip it off, and tuck it under my arm. Then I square my shoulders and saunter up to the pool table.

A wolf whistle slices through the music, courtesy of Logan. “Je-sus,” he marvels at me. “You look bangin’.” His blue eyes twinkle. “What’s the occasion?”

I smile demurely. “Just felt like looking pretty.”

Hannah snorts. “Babe, you look more than pretty. I think every dude in this bar just sprung a boner.”

I shrug. I only care about one boner in particular. I wonder if Little Dean has noticed me yet.

“So you won the game, huh?” I say to Logan.

“Damn right we did.”

“Nice. You guys are back on track, then.” I know Big Dean was upset about their three-game losing streak.

“Yeah, don’t get ahead of yourself. We were up against a Division II team. And even then we barely squeaked out the W.”

“Yo, Logan!” Garrett shouts. “Think I can make this shot?”

“’Scuse me, ladies. My supreme billiards skills and best friend services are required.” He wanders off.

Hannah leans in closer. “So. Does this mean you’re ready to dip your toe in the dating pool again?” Grinning, she gestures to my outfit, which, if I’m being honest, doesn’t really say “I want to date.”

It says DTF.

My royal-blue bandage dress stops at about mid-thigh. I wore a push-up bra, so my cleavage is out to there. My smoky eye shadow makes my eyes look huge. My five-inch stilettos make my legs look impossibly long. Sure, they nearly froze off during the walk from the cab to the bar, but the quest for hotness sometimes requires a sacrifice. That’s Beauty 101.

“Naah, I’m just testing the waters.”

Her smile widens. “Well, consider this test aced. I’d do you.”

I tense abruptly, feeling Dean approach before he even sidles up to me. “Looking good, baby doll,” he says lightly.

But I hear the edge in his voice, and his displeasure is unmistakable. Which is preposterous because what does he have to be peeved about? I’m not the one who was making out with someone else.

“Thanks. Who’s your friend?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster.

His expression goes blank. “Huh?”

I nod toward the brunette, who’s inspecting us with visible suspicion. I can’t believe Dean has the gall to act like he doesn’t know her. I just saw them talking.

“Oh,” he answers. “Polly? Paula? I didn’t catch her name.”

Of course he didn’t.

“Penelope,” Hannah supplies. “I sat next to her during the game. She’s a massive Dean fan. Talked my ear off about you the whole time.” My best friend smirks. “I finally had to interrupt and tell her you don’t live up to the hype.”

I second that.

“Bullshit. I’m better than the hype.” Even as he protests, he sounds distracted. I can feel him staring at me.

“I’m going to get a drink.” I push away from the table.

“Great idea,” Dean says in an overly cheerful voice. “I could use one too.”

I clench my teeth as he follows me. It’s damn hard to run in these heels, so I settle for a speed-walk and hope I lose him in the crowd.

God, it was a stupid idea to come out tonight. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. If anything, I’m even tenser and angrier than I was before.

A squeak flies out of my mouth when I’m suddenly tugged backward.

Dean’s lips brush my ear as he growls, “If you came here to tease me, it’s working.”

My jaw stiffens. I spin around and level him with a glare. “Contrary to what you believe, the world doesn’t revolve around you.” Except he’s right. That is why I came, and now I feel totally and utterly foolish, because I’m not the kind of girl who plays games.

I should have stayed home. Rehearsal had left me in a bad mood, and then I let the thought of Dean with someone else turn me into a character from a rom com. Dressing up like a harlot to get some undeserving guy’s attention? Who am I?

My self-disgust spurs me to keep walking. I approach the counter, where the throng of men there parts for me like the Red Sea. I guess that’s one benefit of looking like sex on stilettos.

I order a Cosmo, because why not? I might as well live up to the image I’ve created. I brought a little black clutch with me, but when I open it to get some money, three different hands brandishing twenty-dollar bills fly up in the air.

“I got this—”

“It’s on me—”

“Let me buy you a drink—”

Dean rumbles out an annoyed sound. The next thing I know, he’s yanking out his own twenty and shoving it at the bartender. “On me,” he says sharply. He glares at my other suitors, who all avert their gazes.

“Are you going to pee on me now to mark your territory?” I hiss at him.

His eyes flash. “I don’t know—should I? What the hell is going on here, Allie?”