Page 22 of The Wrong Play

I snorted because Matty wasn’t funny that often. But that comment actually was.

I grabbed Matty’s beer and took a long pull of it without him noticing, my eyes going back to Parker and Casey like they had some kind of tractor beam attached to them.

It wasn’t that I was bitter about my best friend being in love.

Parker deserved it.

Casey was good for him. I’d spent enough time watching the guy nearly burn down his own life to get her to know that ifanyonedeserved true love, it was Parkie-poo based on his insane efforts alone.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t a little…itchy.

Like something was missing.

Like I was waiting for something—or someone—and I was getting sick of the wait.

I turned back to the bar, giving the girl that had just popped up beside me a lazy smirk when she traced a red manicured hand up my arm. “You look bored,” she purred, pressing closer.

I should’ve been interested. She was hot. Dark hair, killer curves, wearing a dress that barely qualified as clothing.

But I wasn’t.

Not at all.

“Not tonight, darlin’,” I said, giving her my bestfakecharming smile before I threw back another sip of beer and turned to face the other way.

Matty was watching me with an arched brow, and I snarled at him. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s creepy.”

“Maybe thereissomething wrong with you,” he said, smirking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you say no to a hot girl before.”

“Hey, sometimes I say no,” I muttered half-heartedly.

Even though he was right.

Matty choked on his drink. “Name one time?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer. As I scanned the bar out of pure habit—I saw her.

My entire body fucking locked up. My chest clenched so tight I thought I was having a fucking heart attack.

I felt it before I even processed what I was looking at. A full-body reaction. Like a fucking punch to the gut.

Everything else disappeared.

The bar. The people. The music.

Gone.

Fuck.

She was standing on the far side of the dance floor, long, dark blonde hair cascading down her back, catching in the neonglow of the bar lights. A black dress clung to curves I wanted my hands on immediately. She had this softness about her, an effortless kind of beauty that made my stomach twist.

And her face. Fucking hell.

She looked like something straight out of a dream, like an angel that had dropped down in the middle of the bar.

Her beauty gutted me. And her full lips were giving me dirty, dirty images in my mind.

Just looking at her, I knew.

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