Page 21 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

She walks around the table before shoving the tiny white ball into my hand, and I try not to react to the jolt of electricity I feel when her fingers graze mine.

What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

That’s it. No more whiskey.

Before aiming for the cups, I casually toss the ball up and catch it. “It’s nothing against you, Keith.” Locking eyes on the cup that’s front and center, I shoot the ball across the table. “But Red over there is going down.” The ball falls into the cup effortlessly like I knew it would, and I take a little too much pleasure in the crimson flare on Margot’s cheeks.

Izzy beams at me, holding up her hand for a high five. “I’m so glad I couldn’t find Jess,” she says with a laugh.

Still holding Margot’s pissed-off gaze, I smack my hand against Izzy’s—no electricity.

My shoulders drop, and I look over at Margot as Keith whispers something in her ear, making her smile as she whacks his arm playfully. He puts his arm around her, nodding to my partner as he does. “All right, Izzy, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Margot tenses at the gesture and takes another long sip from her drink. She’s not interested, but she’s trying to be nice.

Izzy takes her shot, missing it completely, and I can’t help laughing. “Damn it, Izzy.”

She playfully shoots me a glare, her blonde curls bouncing at her shoulders as she says, “Don’t you worry. I’m just getting warmed up.”

“Let’s hope,” I answer dryly, and she nudges me with her shoulder. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Red.”

Her eyes narrow. “Stop calling me that,” she huffs as she grabs the ball off the floor.

“What should I call you, then?” I ask just to piss her off.

She holds the ball up, squinting with one eye as she tries to line it up to the cup. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says absently. “How about Margot?” She shoots her shot, and the ball goes into the cup. “Drink up, jackass,” she mutters, looking pleased with herself.

Holding up both empty hands, I shrug. “Sorry. No drink.”

Izzy offers her cup to me. “You can have some of mine.”

I take a sip, instantly regretting it. “What the hell is that?” I ask, grimacing.

“Hawaiian Punch and vodka,” she says with a laugh, taking it back from me and drinking.

I nod. “Yup. That’s what it tastes like.”

Keith gives Margot a high five for the point and gears up to throw the ball. “You want me to call you Margot?” I ask. “What’s the fun in that?”

I’m still watching her, waiting for her reaction when the white ball lands in the cup in front of me. Fishing it out and pulling the cup to the side, I ask, “Well?” as I take my next shot.

Margot frowns. “How about you don’t call me anything? I don’t see a reason for you to talk to me, anyway.”

She has a point.

Nothing good ever comes from being around Margot. She either pisses me off or distracts me. Even now, all I can think about is the freckle on her bottom lip hidden beneath her makeup. What would she do if I walked over and wiped some of her lipstick away with my thumb so I could see it again?

I blink and try to shake the thought from my mind. Jess makes her way through the crowd, and I reach out to stop her. “Hey,” I say, catching her attention. “Play for me.”

“Aw! Come on,” Izzy complains. “I actually had a shot at winning with you!”

Pointing to her cup, I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m taking another sip of that.” Before she can say anything else, I walk away, making sure not to look at Margot as I do. I need to clear my head and get the hell away from this girl.

15

margot

Keith places a hand on the small of my back as he takes his turn, and I try to naturally shift away without making it obvious. I’m glad Jess replaced Jackson, but the longer we play, the more Keith finds reasons to touch me. I don’t know him well enough for it to be only a friendly touch, but it’s not forward enough for me to shut down, either. The result leaves us in a constant limbo of shoulder shrugs and shifting feet.

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