Page 58 of Play the Game

Corbin nods to the stairs. “They’re comparing our dick lengths on the dance floor.”

Dylan chuckles. “There’s no need. Everyone knows who has the biggest dick in the room.”

Just then, Malaki, who isn’t even in a relationship, sits down next to us, like he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to make himself known. “Obviously, we all know it’s me.”

Of course he’d show up, even though no one invited him.

“The only single guy in the club?” I crack. “That checks out.”

The guys laugh, but Malaki scoffs. “I’m not ready to settle down. That has nothing to do with my dick size. My focus is hockey. Not…” He looks down and bounces his disgusted face to all of our ringed fingers.

“Commitment, someone to come home to every day, support…love?” Dylan asks.

Malaki snaps his fingers. “Exactly. No thanks. I only have room for one obsession in my life, and it’s hockey.”

It’s then that I realize I am going to have to pull my shit together, because so far, my new wife and I have done nothing but take a few fake photos together, share some angry texts, and piss each other off. My obsession is hockey too, but now I’m going to have to make it seem like it’sher.

Corbin rests his back against the bar. “You just haven’t found the right girl, and how could you? Your idea of going out is visiting the strip club every chance you get.”

My jaw aches, and I stare directly at Malaki.

Don’t.

His lazy gaze skims by, latching onto me for a split second. But then he shrugs. “Nothing wrong with a girl who can dance.”

“Speaking of…” Matthew gestures to the dance floor, and after a few seconds of searching, I find her.

An upbeat song is pouring through the speakers. The women are dancing together like they’re the only ones in the club. I have a strong feeling that every man in here, single or not, is staring at them. I’m in too much of a trance to notice, though. Scottie is in the middle of the floor, spinning Matthew’s fiancée around in a circle with my last name glued to her back. They’re both laughing, and God, my wife is beautiful.

With her wavy blonde hair flowing around her flushed face, she’s having the time of her life, weaving in and out of the strobing lights. I have never seen her look the way she does right now, and I’m captivated.

Is she tipsy?

For the first time since meeting her, she doesn’t seem uptight or too focused to even crack a smile. Instead of stress flowing off her shoulders like it’s her entire personality, she’s airy. Like a fucking ray of sunshine in the middle of a dark club.

Her laugh catches my attention again, and a gush of warmth flies to my fingertips.

“She’s done for now,” Corbin muses. “They’ve fully accepted your girl into their circle.”

I say nothing.

Instead, I relax in the barstool and keep my gaze pinned to Scottie who has yet to notice me. Or maybe she has, and she’s just avoiding looking in my direction to spite me.

I wonder what she’d do if I went up behind her and wrapped my hands around her waist and took over the role of being her dance partner? She’d have no choice but to play along then, because now, we have a live audience.

Before I can torment her, Hattie, Corbin’s wife, drags her by the hand, and they head to the bartender carrying a round of drinks on his tray. I scrutinize her every move, choosing to ignore the men nearby that can’t stop looking at her ass in those tight jeans.

There’s no need to get jealous.

I know on paper she’s mine, but in reality, she isn’t.

Hattie’s bottom lip pops out when Scottie refuses a shot, which provokes my curiosity. Maybe she knows her limits, or maybe she doesn’t drink.

I’m beginning to realize that I don’t know my wife very well at all.

The guys are mid-conversation about the game, and I take the opportunity to open my phone to text Scottie.

You don’t drink?

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