Page 17 of Last Round

That girl I knew would never have worn those cruel, spikey things that lift her already perfect ass just that smidgen more, so that it makes it impossible to ignore. No, shoes like this would have ruined her primary mode of transportation, skateboards and bikes. I’m willing to bet she wore a pair of Chucks under her prom dress. Not that I remember. There’s a good chunk of that night that’s still a blur—honestly, most of that year was.

The point is the girl I knew is long gone.

At least, on the exterior. Because the last thing I’d ever call her now is agirl.I have a feeling she’d stab me in the nuts with those spikey things. Seriously, those can’t be comfortable. Sure, Dani wears them almost every day. But she’s been doing that since she was fourteen. Not Molly.

As much as she’s changed, I wonder how much is still the same?

While I appreciate the fuck out of this womanly packaging she has now, Molly was the coolest chick I knew. She was never a pain to have around, not like my annoying little sister. Instead of bitching about the movies we watched or the weird regimens we had with training, she always tagged along. There was never any of that boy drama. She wasn’t lovesick like Cassie. Or obsessed with the latest boy band.

She can’t still be that cool? Can she?

Her carefree laughter drowns out the sound system. That’s still the same.

No, bad Killian. You need to let this go. Whatever feelings you think you have, snuff them out.

I glance over to my board of panties. They used to fill my chest with pride. Now they just mock me. Whispering in my ear, reminding me all the reason’s I’m no good for Molly. I don’t need her brother to tell me. It’s something I’m already painfully aware of. And so is she.

I mean, come on, she threw a damn drink in your face.

Molly is leagues above me.

Fuck it, this pity party needs to end.

“Okay, fuckers, let’s do a round of shots. On the house,” I say, slamming my hands down on the bar top. Everyone cheers as they crowd around. This is more like me. Not the pussy whining about the girl he can’t have.

“Seriously?” Dani rolls her eyes at me but grabs a tray of glasses and helps me pour out the tequila. It’s not that uncommon for me to offer a round or two on the house. Still, it doesn’t stop her from grumbling under her breath about this being a business.

For all her bitching, she takes one herself. Dani might hate me, but she alsolovesme.

I double-fist mine, slamming them down quickly. Anything to numb the unwanted feelings that keep vibrating beneath the surface. Refusing to allow me a moment of peace.

A pair of tits is thrust in my face. They have a lime wedged between the cleavage. Without a second thought I lean forward and extract the fruit with my teeth. I bite down and suck the juices before spitting it into a nearby trash can. The woman cheers and squeals with her girlfriends. She’s wearing a bride-to-be sash and a crown. The one labeled as her maid of honor is recording the whole thing—likely posting it on social media as we speak. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Oh my god!” The bride squeals, her face red as she fans herself. “My fiancé is going to flip. He’s such a huge fan of yours.”

“Is that right?” I rest on my elbows, flashing her my best smile. She leans in, matching my posturing as I beckon her forward with my finger. “What would he do if I kissed you?” I whisper in her ear.

“He’d die, in like the best kind of way.” That blush of hers deepens. Not the shade I’ve grown to fantasize about, but it’s something. “You’re my one.”

I arch a brow. I know full well what she means, but watching her squirm is the most fun I’ve had in weeks. Maybe that’s the key, more tequila and a good fuck.

“My freebie,” she says, her voice heavy with lust. “You know… it wouldn’t be cheating.”

“Is that right?” I kick up my accent, my eyes darting over to the light indicating I’m still being recorded. “So, he wouldn’t mind if I did this?” My fingers thread through her hair, pulling her mouth to mine as I dart out my tongue and tangle it with hers. She grips my shirt collar, deepening the kiss.

I’m Killian. This is what I do.

When we break apart, her lips are swollen and her eyes are closed as if she’s still kissing me. She tastes of tequila and bad choices—that used to be my favorite flavor. Except my dick is a stubborn bastard and refuses to register the situation. I can’t believe the fucking firefighter was right. Honestly, since the night Molly made her grand reentry into my life, I haven’t been trying. So when Jake made the stupid comment, I didn’t put any stock into it. But now, as I’m trying to ignore her and be me, I realize I’m fucked. And also not. Because I’m definitely going home alone tonight.

Molly’s emerald stare burns a hole through my skull from across the room. Her nostrils flare before she turns on those little black pumps and storms off.

Wonder what’s got those little red panties in a bunch?

Not Going as Planned

Molly

Me: This isn’t working.

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