Page 78 of I Was Always Yours (RCA: Royal Crown Academy)

The second is because her eyes are firmly fixed on me, seemingly unseeing to anything else and,fuckif that doesn’t make me happy.

“What are you doing?”

“Playing.”

“Why?”

“I don’t buy for a second that you’re going to actually play strip beer pong,” I say, pulling my arm back and forth as I prepare to throw, “You’re too much of a good girl for that.” I toss the ball and it lands perfectly in one of their cups. “I want a front row seat when you admit you don’t actually want to strip.”

I smirk at her as my eyes meet hers.

She downs the beer, grabs the claw clip in her hair and opens it, letting her hair flow in dramatic waves around her and momentarily hypnotizing me.

“Hmm,” she hums, setting the clip on the table. I don’t fight her on whether it counts as an item of clothing or not. So far, she’s just proving my point. “Didn’t you say the same thing about the body jewelry I have?”

The other guy still standing next to me peers up interestedly at her. I watch his eyes drop to her breasts and then continue on down, slowly…

“Fuck off.” I snarl at him.I need another man picturing her nipple piercing like I need a kick to the balls.

He makes himself scarce.

Nera lifts an eyebrow at me and I spread my arms wide in response. “Two on one. It should be easy to beat me.”

“I’m actually going to bow out of this one as well.” Nera says, giving Six a pointed look before grabbing her drink and walking away.

That leaves Six and I in a showdown, our gazes locked on each other across the table.

She tosses the ball, missing the table altogether.

“You’ve always had a terrible aim,” I mutter as I bend to pick up the ball.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her stiffen.

I don't think I’ve reminisced to her about the past without directly tying it back to my dislike of her. I certainly have never said anything that sounded remotely as nostalgic as what I just said.

But it’s the truth. She’s always been a ball dropper, no matter the kind, shape, or size. She could never be relied on to play basketball or baseball and that was the only time we’d leave her behind.

“Yeah, well, you were too busy chasing me around a forest and through cornfields to teach me how to throw.”

She seems surprised by her own words, her throat working as she swallows thickly.

We’re treading on dangerous territory with this reminiscing about something that’s long dead with no hope of revival.

I shut the door on this conversation before it can go any further.

I clear my throat. “That should make it easier for me then.”

I toss the ball.

It lands in a cup.

She shrugs off her leather jacket, throwing it to the side where it lands on a nearby chair.

Looks like she is playing after all. Let’s see how long her bravery lasts.

She throws.

The ball hits the rim of a cup on the perimeter, eventually bouncing to the wrong side and off the table.

---