Page 57 of Honey Pot

“It was last minute,” I said, defending the cleverness of our outfits. “And if you take the degradation of the term ‘bat bunny’ and use it against those who coined the term. Isn’t that a shift of power?”

Dean’s brows furrowed, and Van snorted.

“So, really, it’s pretty empowering of us.”

Ella watched the interaction with a funny look on her face.

“Sure,” Dean licked the trace of booze off his bottom lip as his eyes darted up away from me to Cael, who had moved into the kitchen behind me.

I only knew he was there because I could smell the citrus cologne that mimicked that sweet gummy bear smell, it coated his skin and wafted through the stench of drunk college kids. Cael stood at my back, his hand hidden as his fingers rubbed the fabric of his jersey at the hem along the curve of my ass.

“If I had known a group costume was happening, I would have joined.” He pouted. “I would have looked better in that than you. Everyone knows I’m Arlo’s bat bunny.” He pointed at Ella with a smile on his face and the bottle he was babying between his fingers.

Ella scowled at the liquid sloshing around inside.

“It’s water, Peach.” He tossed the bottle through the air at her, and she popped the lid, unashamed, and smelled it. I was slightly offended for Cael, but he didn’t seem to care, catching it in his hand as she chucked it back to him.

“You though…” He turned to me, voice dropping in tone and eyes dragging down over my body. “I’ve never seen that jersey look so good.”

“And you wear it every night,” I cooed back. “So that's saying something.”

Cael blushed, with red cheeks and dewy-looking eyes, as he exhaled.

I thought for a second he might do something brash in public, but he tossed his arm around me and smiled, tucking me into his side. “Let’s give Mary,” he choked out the name, “a true Harbor Hornets Halloween.” He looked down at me, and the mischief in his smile made the tips of my fingers tingle.

“What exactly does that entail?” I asked as a few of them moved through the house to what might have been a dining room, but it was covered in silly string and fake skeletons. The music thumped through the walls from the living room on the other side, and it was hard to hear myself think.

“Poker.” Van smiled.

“That feels underwhelming after stadium karaoke.” I sat in the chair that Cael pulled out for me and took Ella's drink as she wandered around to my left.

“They always play for something,” she whispered in my ear as she sat down. “They’re also really fucking bad, none of them have poker faces.”

“Not fair, because Ella hasn’t lost a game since…” Cael waved his hand in the air and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Well, I’ve never seen her lose…so statistically her opinion is flawed.”

Dean sat across the table from me, between Van and Zoey, while Cael took a spot beside me. “So what are we playing for, clothing?”

Strip poker was something I had never played, but I was certainly down to try.

“Nah.” Van shook his head. “We’ve all seen each other naked. It’s not fun anymore.”

“It’s always fun to see me naked,” Cael chirped.

Ella dealt the cards with a smirk on her face.

Dean grunted and checked his hand with a scowl.

“So what then?” I asked. When Cael looked up at me over his cards, my body trembled in response, his lip between his teeth and fire behind his ocean eyes. “We play for keeps.” He shrugged, and I watched his pupils flare. “We play for orgas—”

“Absolutely not,” I said before he could finish. He was trying to wager our intimacy over a poker game, and I saw right through him.

He leaned in close, whispering against my skin, and said, “you can have anyone. It doesn’t have to beme.” His tongue ghosted over my ear lobe and my cunt throbbed from the sensation that flickered down over my skin. “You can pick any Hornet you want.” His voice was hot against my neck. “But keep it inside the Nest. The prospects in the Delta pool are infested.”

“Infested?” I asked, trying to hide my laughter.

“STIs.” Zoey giggled. “They have a running line outside the doctor's office.” She pointed to a group of six standing in a huddle. Three of the six had shifted uncomfortably, clearly itchy.

“All holes are goals with those guys,” Van sighed like he had seen the horrors of Delta firsthand.

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