Page 75 of Overtime
I sigh, and it gets the captain’s attention. She turns to me. “How are your skills, Maddie?”
“Well, I’m a bit tipsy, so I could either hit the bullseye or stab someone in the eye.”
“We’ll gamble,” Ryan says with a fierce nod, and it makes me giggle. She puts her hand in the middle, and the other girls stack theirs on top. By turns, they stare at me, and it takes me a second to catch on. I place my hand on top of Amber’s, and Ryan shouts, “Who are we?”
“Thunder Strikes!” they shout in unison. I shrink a little, because the whole bar is now watching.
Nonplussed, Ryan continues, “And what do we do?”
“We strike first! We strike fast! We strike hard!”
My hand flies up with the power of theirs. I’m equal parts pumped and embarrassed when the whole bar erupts in cheering. This must not be the first time, because soon enough, the other patrons turn back to their own conversations.
“Wow, you guys are so cool,” I say, mouth agape as I observe them. Ryan with her pixie haircut and leather jacket. Christine with her blond waves and a Barbie doll face that hides her aggressive nature. Amber with her glowing brown skin and a smile that could stop traffic. All elite athletes, the queens of this campus. And they’re so freaking lovely too.
“Weeee,” Ryan drags out the word and laces her arm in mine. “Weare so cool, Maddie.”
I shake my head. I know what she’s trying to do, and I love her for it. But it’s not like all of a sudden, I’ve become a varsity athlete just because I’m hanging out with them. I’m still boring little Maddie, who was stress-knitting at home when Ryan barged in, demanding I join them for a man-hangover session.
But here I am, in line for throwing darts against Jamal Amadi, a guy I’d never have seen this close if it hadn’t been for how my life has so drastically changed in under two months.
“So, Maddie. You know I like you a lot, right?” Jamal grins down at me, and if it weren’t because of the Latino TDH, my stomach would flutter.
“You do?” I press my lips into a small smile.
“Yes, but I just want you to know that I’m also very competitive.”
This time I laugh. “I kinda figured.”
“So no hard feelings when I win?” He extends his hand, and I shake it.
“Nope. No hard feelings at all,” I chirp.
“Is that the best you can do, Webber?”
Ryan’s taunting reaches my ears, and I lean to the side to catch the action. Poor Mark wears a grumpy expression as he allows Ryan her shot. His must be the first dart on the board, and it’s almost at the edge.
“Having fun?”
Dang it, body. Stop reacting so obviously.
Aran’s voice wraps around it like warm velvet. Except I’m wearing fewer layers and showing more skin than usual, and I seriously don’t want this entire bar to know what he does to me. I rub the goose bumps off my arms quickly and glance up.
He’s right next to me, hands in his jeans pockets. Those unreadable dark eyes of his sweep down my face, and lower still. He’s not even apologetic as he checks me out down to my white Doc Martens. And hey, maybe feeling like a burrito wrap in my push-up bra, a super tight emerald top with a round, plunging neckline, and tight high-rise jeans was worth it.
Blinking slowly, he lifts his eyes up, and they linger a little on my chest. When they finally reach my face, the corner of his lips rises, and I know exactly why.
My chest, neck, and face must be as red as a ripe strawberry.
Meanwhile, Aran’s amusement is obvious. And that’s when I realize he did this to see if he could affect me. And like a fool, I showed him he most definitely could.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “Oh, I am. Ready to lose?”
“Hmm, careful which bear you poke, Strawberry.”
“Take that, sucker!” Ryan shouts, tearing my attention away from the bear I wish I could cuddle with.
I shake my head to refocus my beer-and-hormone-addled brain. Ryan goes around high-fiving us after her victory against Mark Webber. Then it’s Jamal’s and my turn, but on the other board, Christine and Archie are still locked in a tie.
