Page 39 of Play Pretend

It took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me. When her words sank in, I laughed. When no one else did, I let it slowly die. “Wait, really? You have trivia rivals?”

“They’re from Blackrock Bay,” Trinity said, resting her forearms on the table. Wasn’t she hot wearing a jacket in here? I was in a dress, but felt sweat coating every inch of my skin.She had to be burning up in a hoodie and jeans.

“Here,” Ronan muttered, sliding the tray of drinks onto the table. “I am never ordering that drink again, Trin. That was so embarrassing. Morgan gave me so much shit for it.”

She cackled as she threw her head back. The sound was infectious, and I couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

“Vodka cran, extra lime.” He handed me my drink, and I smiled my thanks as he sat beside me, grabbing his bottle of beerby the neck. He took a long swig, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I didn’t know you were coming, or I would’ve gotten you a drink.” The redhead waved her hand dismissively.

“No problem, Ro.” Her gaze flicked to me, but she said nothing. “I ordered one before I came over here.” He grunted noncommittally, his eyes still sweeping over the bar.

“Anything exciting happen?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“We were just telling Willow about our Blackrock Bay foes,” she said, and he groaned.

“You know my name?” I blurted, and her red glossy lips spread into a wide smile.

“Of course. You’re Ro’s new girlfriend.”

My entire body flushed with heat, and he made a choking sound, slamming his fist into the center of his chest. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he croaked, wiping his mouth with his hand.

“I mean, you’re dating, right?” Trinity asked, taking a sip of her fruity drink. I wasn’t sure what all was in it, but I think there were at least six different types of liquor and all the fruit juices available.

Ronan and I glanced at each other, and I shrugged. I didn’t know how he wanted to play this. I just needed him for a weekend; he was the one who wentall in.

“Technically,” he muttered. I dropped my gaze to my drink, letting my fingers glide along the smooth, wet surface.

“Don’t sound too excited there,” the redhead laughed. “I’m Brynne, by the way.” Her hand stretched across the table, and I took it, giving it a gentle shake.

“Willow.”

“I know,” she said teasingly, and I huffed out a breathy laugh.

I risked a look at Ronan, finding him scowling as he stared at the groups of people around the bar. Why had I agreed to come? It was obvious he didn’t want to be here—or maybe it was me hedidn’t want here. Either way, he didn’t look like he was having a good time at all.

“Oh, it’s starting!” Trinity squealed, pointing at the stage. Slowly, the music faded to a dull background noise and people began quieting down.

“Blackrock Bay is our rival because The Taphouse is right on the border of our towns. Cedar Ridge thinks the bar is our territory, Blackrock Bay thinks it’s theirs,” Ronan explained, leaning close. His shoulder pressed against mine for a fleeting moment, then it was gone like it never happened.

“Why does it matter?” I asked, pushing my brows together. He shrugged.

“No idea. But everyone treats these nights like life or death. Which is why I come every week with the girls. I have to keep an eye on things—we’ve had one too many brawls here.”

My eyes widened. “Are you serious?” I asked, and he nodded, taking a swig of his beer. The lights reflected through the amber glass, muddying the colors.

“People take their bar gamesveryseriously.”

“Is everyone here?” the man on stage said into the mic. He glanced at the paper in his hands as a few groups around the small bar cheered, Trinity the loudest of them all. “Beaver Eaters?” He looked around as he sighed. “I said to keep the names PG, guys. Come on.”

“That’s no fun!” Trinity hollered, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

“I should’ve known this was your team,” he grumbled, and she shook her head.

“No way! We’re Sherlock Homies!” she shouted back. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, and I clamped my hand over my mouth. She shot me a sly look and winked before facing forward again.

“Who are the Beaver Eaters, then?” he asked, sounding extremely tired. His blond hair was picked up in a loose man-bun at the back of his head, pieces falling messily around his face. He had to be around my age and was nearly as tall as Ronan, but much thinner.

“We are!” an older man from behind us shouted.

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