Page 33 of Endgame

Callaway guidesme with my left hand gripped tightly in his, as we swerve through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor. The bar, adorned in black, is packed full of various kinds of people. I let go of his hand in search of an empty bar stool to rest my sore legs on. I find one nestled into the corner of the velvet wall. After taking my seat, I lift my eyes in search of the bartender. I find him currently taking Cal’s drink order.Mine included.

The relief from my legs feels incredible.

If only I could take care of theotherache.

Minutes later, Callaway is headed straight for me with our drinks in hand. Thankfully, the gentleman beside me walked away, leaving him the empty seat next to mine. He hands me my vodka soda withtriplelime, I note, and moves to sit, taking a long pull of his Old-fashioned.

“Thank you.” I must sound as flustered as I feel.

“It’s no problem.”

Sitting in comfortable silence for a moment gives me achance to nonchalantly give Callaway a perusal. He’s sporting a pair of dark washed jeans, an emerald green Henley, and brown Chelsea boots tucked under the hem. He looks meticulously put together for such an effortless look. His black hair is disheveled and tossed to the side. He must have just left the barber because the faded lines along his sides look clean and sharp, underscoring his features which resemble that of a Greek God.

I’m constantly noticing his simple style. He doesn’t need much, and it is evident he doesn’t care about possessions which mean so little. Navy characterized him well when she said his humility is apparent in every area of his life.

Does he have any flaws?

“I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” I mildly shout to him over the loud music. Our need for conversation forces us to lean in closer.

His lips twitch. “And what kind of thing is that?”

He’s going to judge me. Letting him know how lame and boring my life is will surely have him running for the hills.

“I don’t usually go out. Like ever. Thought I’d change things up tonight.”

Chuckling to himself, he lets his hand drop from the bar top and slowly slides it to the thigh I shamelessly tucked between his legs. From the outside looking in, we look like a real couple sharing an intimate moment.

“Thank you for making tonight the night you came to Delta. I’m really glad we ran into each other, Dakota.”

He underestimates his effect on me.

“I’m not sure if I would call startling me on the dance floorrunninginto each other. Like your hands just so happen to fallonto my waist.”

I smirk at him and snicker. It feels odd.

It’s clear I’m doing an impeccable job at surprising himbecause his eyebrows shoot up, and that gravelly laugh returns from deep within. An unfamiliar warmth settles over me.

Conflicted with my own pride, I contemplate returning his pursuit. It would be easier if I knew exactly what he was looking for. I need to draw my boundaries so that he knows what I’m willing to give him.

He’s all but telling me he wants me. I can read the signs.

But Navy keeps coming to the forefront of my thoughts. Can I risk her being upset with me for a night with him? I mean, nothing more will come from this. Our connection is most likely pent-up sexual tension, right? He doesn’t seem to have any hesitation.

“It got you to have a drink with me, didn’t it?”

I would have crawled had you asked me.

I’ll keep that little nugget to myself, though.

I never knew I was a slave to blue eyes until Callaway. He makes me want to say screw it and deal with the repercussions in the morning.

Maybe I should try…see where it leads…

Feeling a wave of confidence, I decide to give him a little nudge.

“You know, a drink isn’t the only thing I could use.”

I expect him to be thrown off by my boldness, but he does the opposite. With his eyes closed and head thrown back, he groans, “Fuck. You’re making it really difficult to get to know you.”

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