Page 12 of Perfect Boy

“Go on. Get it out of your system.” He rolls his eyes before covering them with his hand for a second, pretending to be distraught, though I can tell he really isn’t used to sucking at things.

“You’re really taking this to heart, huh?” I all but snort.

We came to Club 83 and ordered a bunch of unhealthy yet delicious shit, and just when I figured he’d take me home, he asked if I wanted to play a game of pool. I think he assumed that because I’m a girl, I wouldn’t be good. But little did he know, when I was a kid, our neighbor had a crappy, old pool table and would let me come over and play when I needed to escape my mom’s string of boyfriends. I don’t play all that often anymore. I guess I’ve always associated it with a bad memory, but tonight’s actually been fun.

Really fun.

And what’s refreshing is that Watson hasn’t hit on me. Not once. Which is something I’m not used to when it comes to being around any Brooks University jocks. Even at parties, they act like complete and total dogs. I’m sure Watson usually is the same and is behaving strictly because of all of my warnings. But still…it’s nice to just hang out without the pressure of feeling like I’m a piece of ass.

“I told you, I’m stupid competitive,” he groans. “I’m about to go take pool lessons just so that I can beat you next time we do this.” His eyes widen, giving me a serious look. “I’m not kiddin’ either.”

I’m not going to tell him this, but I love his Southern accent. I think about asking him where he’s from, but I don’t. Because then I’d sound far too interested. I’m not interested. I don’t care where he’s from.

Okay, maybe I do a little.

“Next time? Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” I raise an eyebrow, putting my stick back with the others. “This, my friend, was a onetime thing. To be honest, I just came along for the free food.”

He throws his head back and grins. “Friend? Did Ryann Denver just call me her friend?” He looks around. “Pigs must be flying. Fish must be walking around on land. And hell has definitely frozen over.”

“You know what I meant,” I say quickly. “Just an expression.”

“Uhhh-huh. Sure it is.” He gives me a dimpled grin before setting his own stick back. “Well, either way, I had fun, and I’m glad you agreed to come out with me…friend.”

“It still wasn’t—”

“A date.” He laughs. “Yeah, I got that.”

This is annoying. I’m actually having a good time right now. With Watson freaking Gentry. I don’t want to have a good time. I want to be annoyed by him. I don’t want to look at him and have a goofy, stupid smile on my perfectly trained RBF. I don’t want to be completely charmed.

Dancing can be a very romantic and sensual thing. And when you put a hot guy into the equation, things can get dicey. I can’t complicate our partnership just because I think he’s attractive. I need to keep my guard up. I don’t do athletes anymore. Literally.

Back at our table, I take one last drink of my Sprite and look at my phone, seeing the time. “Well, I should be going. I have some homework to finish before tomorrow.”

“Let me give you a ride back to your car,” he says quickly.

I give him a pointed look. “Well, duh. Obviously, I’m not walking.” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not looking to be kidnapped tonight, you know.”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let’s go, pool master. It’s probably best we get goin’ anyway. I don’t think my ego can take any more losing tonight.”

Before we head toward the door, I watch a group of football players file into the club. I avert my eyes anywhere besides at them because I know Denton is likely in the group. I glance up, noticing they’ve all made their way to the bar, and literally hold my breath. The last thing I want to do right now is run into Denton and deal with his psychotic self.

How I was ever convinced he was a good guy, I have no freaking idea. He’s a slimy snake. One that I’d like to throw a rock at. No, a boulder.

For months, he’s kept his distance. I’ve been very fortunate lately to not cross paths with him. And when I did, he was with his new girlfriend, so aside from staring at me, he left me alone. But if he saw me tonight, especially with another man, he’d have something to say for sure. I’m too tired and not in the mood to deal with Denton’s shit.

Once they are all seated, I head toward the door, hoping to slip out without being—

“Ry-Ry,” is called from the bar, and I know I’ve been spotted.

My entire body stiffens, but I push through and continue walking despite him calling my name again, refusing to take the hint that I have absolutely zero interest in catching up with his narcissistic ass. My hand reaches for the door, but Watson holds his hand out around me, pushing it open for us. Once we’re outside, relief washes over me, knowing I got out of there without having to face that pompous dick. That is, until I hear the door swing open again.

“Too good to talk to me now?” comes from behind us.

My shoulders sag, and that sharp pain shoots through my chest as my nerves overtake my body, reminding me of how much control this person—this monster—has on me. An effect Denton always seems to have, making me feel like a loser. Maybe it’s him. Or maybe it’s the fact that he reminds me so damn much of some of my mother’s exes, who I watched do unthinkable things to her, and when he’s near, I turn into a defenseless, spineless person.

I turn into my mom.

“Hey, man, I think if she wanted to talk to you, she probably would have stopped when you were desperately hollering her name in the bar.” Watson says the words lightly, but they are laced with something…a threat maybe?

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