Page 28 of Love is a Game

Her head dips as she playfully tugs my shirt loose from my waistband. But my brain snags on her words. My track record. The implication that if we tried, I’d ruin it. Is that what she thinks?

She falls against me, unsteady.

“You’re pretty tanked, Pen, we should get you—”

“No shit, Herschel!” she gives a gleeful smile, as if proud of referencing the famous interspace observer we studied way back in grade school. “I’d be pretty disappointed if I weren’t after how much I drank.

“And guess what?” she sways happily. “I’m not done. So you can lose the tone, Mr. Judgy McJudge Pants. And since you definitely can’t stop me, you may as well lighten the fuck up and join me.” She pouts. “That’s if you’re not too busy comparing stock portfolios with your new friend, Odette.”

“Forget, Odette, okay?” I say gruffly.

She leans in, lips brushing my ear. “Well, in that case, we could enjoy a little mid-course interlude, what do you say?”

I smooth her hair back, searching her face—wanting her. But not like this. Not as a quick fix for whatever’s got her feelings churned up. Not as a fleeting distraction just so Pen can avoid dealing with shit. The way it always is.

This time, I want more.

“Or,” I say, voice low, “we could ditch the public restroom idea…”

She flinches as if wounded, then violently tugs against my grip, trying to break free.

I tighten my hold, my head dipping closer.

“Instead…I could take you home. Take you to bed. And fuck you all night long.”

Her mouth parts on an intake of breath, her eyes deepening.

Slowly, she presses her lips together. Blinking as if waking from a dream.

“Except…” She wavers. “What about Brady and Vivian?” She straightens. “We should probably get back to the table.”

“This isn’t about Brady and Vivian. Or Odette. Or being polite dinner guests.” Frustration creeps into my voice. “This is your typical tactical maneuver, Pen. You think I don’t know that?”

I drop my hands, letting her go.

She hesitates. “Tuck, don’t be like that.” Her tone is soft, coaxing. “Let’s just finish dinner, okay?”

I shrug. “Fine.”

“Oh—except I really do need to pee first—meet you back there?” She smiles, saccharine sweet.

And there she goes, flipping the narrative again.

Her pivot is almost impressive.

If it didn’t make me want to slam my head against the nearest wall.

Chapter 10

Penelope

I feel like Alice in Wonderland—waking up to a mysterious orange drink and two white pills on the bedside table.

And a note: “Drink that. Take those. Thank me later.”

I squint at my phone. 10:40

Ugh.

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