Page 47 of Rival Summer

"Okay, what now?" I whispered, still half convinced we were about to be caught in the most absurd act of our entire friendship.

"See that outfit bag over there? The one with number 29 on it?" Willow pointed to Boston's gear, hanging on the team rack nearby.

"Y—yes?"

"Put them inside the bag so he finds them. Then, send him a text on the first day of the tournament—before they get to the locker room. Tell him that you left him a present in his locker, and you want 'it' to happen this weekend." She paused, her expression serious but her eyes dancing. "I'm telling you, no man can resist a cute pair of panties. And this weekend will be the perfect time. Anytime we go out of town we all end up room swapping. There will be a way to get you two together without anyone knowing."

I stared at her. The audacity of her plan was ridiculous, crazy–absolutely unlike me, yet... There was a part of me that wanted to entertain it because for one, I had already taken off my underwear, and two, Willow was so excited about it, I couldn’t possibly back out.

"Here goes nothing," I whispered, more to myself than Willow. With a tiny act of rebellion that sent adrenaline coursing through my veins, I unzipped Boston's game attire bag, slipped the black lace inside, and zipped it back up. It was done. A tiny thrill shot through me thinking about Boston, about what he’d think when he found them.

Later that night, Willow and I carved a path through a sea of bodies, the dim glow of neon signs washing over the crowded Gin and Jerry’s. The smell of spilled beer and raucous laughter filled the air, pulling me further into the night. We found ourselves a spot at the bar, elbows resting on the sticky surface, waiting for the bartender who was a flurry of motion at the far end.

"Think he'll notice us before we turn thirty?" Willow quipped, her blonde hair sparkling beneath the overhead lights.

"Maybe if you show more cleavage," I joked, still focused on the busy bartender.

Reese slid in casually beside us, leaning against the bar as we waited.

"Ladies," Reese said, voice smooth as silk. "Looking good tonight."

The clink of glasses drew our attention as the bartender slid two tall drinks in front of us. Willow and I exchanged a glance, both knowing we hadn’t ordered them. Two Jack and Cokes—a choice neither of us would normally select.

"Compliments of the gentlemen in the back," the bartender said with a conspiratorial wink, nodding toward a dimly lit area of the crowded bar.

We leaned back, craning our necks and shifting our bodies, but we couldn’t make out the faces of our anonymous admirers.

"Is this part of your plan?" Reese interrupted, amused.

I turned to find him leaning casually against the bar, his green eyes glinting mischievously.

"Why yes, it is!" I replied confidently. "Hot girl summer, open for business."

Willow chuckled beside me, as she nodded in agreement. We raised the glasses, ready to toast to our unexpected fortune.

"Sorry about that," the bartender interrupted, his hand closing over mine to still the ascent of my drink. "The guys who sent these said they were meant for the other two girls over there." He gestured apologetically to a pair of women chatting animatedly on our left.

Reese's smirk widened, the corners of his mouth playing at that familiar edge of arrogance and allure as he picked up a frosted beer bottle another bartender had slid to him. "So much for a hot girl summer," he quipped, the words laced with that carefree taunt that always seemed to find its way under my skin.

He laughed as he dropped a twenty dollar bill on the counter then stepped away toward the pool table, the dim lights casting his tattoos in an amber glow.

"Lovely," I murmured to myself, cheeks warming with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “And how did he get a drink before us?” I asked Willow.

"Baseball perks," Willow said, rolling her eyes. "They know their orders and they hardly wait."

"Must be nice," I said with a touch of envy.

"Still," Willow continued with a huff, "that bartender is a jerk. He could have at least let us keep the drinks he already gave to us."

"Agreed," I nodded, wishing Reese hadn’t just witnessed the mix-up.

After what felt like an eternity of being ignored, we got our drinks. Then we made our way over to the pool tables where the real action was.

The click and clatter of billiard balls filled the air, mixing with the music pulsing through the bar. My gaze landed on Boston mid-shot. His focus was intense, his athletic form bending gracefully over the table. Then his piercing blue eyes caught mine, and time seemed to slow as he shot me a wink, hit the ball, and sank it into the corner pocket.

"Looks like someone's happy to see you," Willow teased, nudging me with her elbow.

"Or maybe he's just proud of his shot," I deflected, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

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