Page 72 of You're To Blame 2

“It’s time to move along, Ms.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Security. Move it along.”

She threw a tantrum as she stalked higher into the bleachers.

“Thanks, Mr. Finch.”

“I’ve got your back.”

Tate braced his palms on his knees as he stared at me. My boyfriend was about to lose it. I considered leaving. Then I decided I’d stay and support our team.

I stood and threw my fist in the air. “Go Saints.” My friends joined in at my side cheering.

Lake threw the ball in the hoop at the sound of the buzzer. We jumped up and down.

“Yes! We did it. Haven Saints won by one point,” I yelled.

Lake ran over and pulled me up into his arms. “Did you see that? I hit the game-winning shot.”

“Yes.” I hugged him tight.

He placed me on my feet.

“Lake, I’ll wait for you.”

He backed away. “Ok. I’ll be out soon.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lake and Connie entered our team names on the scoreboard. Tying my shoe, I peeked at the other end of the bowling alley. Tate stared back. Our pull was monumental. I wanted to run to him, and snuggle in his big strong arms. God, I couldn’t wait until later tonight to be with him. Tate wore a black baseball cap low over his eyes. Dark, chiseled, and brooding never looked so good.

“All right, Chelsea, you and I are up.” Lake cocked a crooked smile.

I stepped over and selected a ball.

“Lake, me and the guys are setting up beside you and the geek squad.”

Asshole number one has joined us. Great.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Ugh. You are so lame, Tate.”

My friends rolled their eyes and shot him the middle finger. His arrogant gaze roved over them. He wasn’t at all offended.

“Relax princess, my friends and I won’t interrupt your playtime,” he snickered, turning his cap backwards.

Stephen gripped his shoulder and whispered in his ear. He glanced at the grinning waitress. Tate’s smile widened. He walked over and struck up a conversation.

Asshole Tate had definitely returned? Or, was I the only one oblivious that he was always an asshole?

“Chelsea, Chelsea.” Megan shook my arm.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring. Did you forget you’re on a date?”

I wanted to squeeze my eyes closed, but I couldn’t. I needed to concentrate to have fun because Tate was bowling two lanes over.

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