Page 65 of Full Tilt
Goose bumps shimmer down my arms, fired off by a mixture of excitement and dread. I want to have fun with guys, just like I’ve always done. Although I can’t deny the shift inside me, and I know that my reluctance to hook up is down to the bad-boy hockey player I shouldn’t be thinking about at all, let alone right now.
With the pool cue still in my hand, I slowly rise from the table and turn to face the owner of the deep, flirtatious voice.
Ugh.
He’s just my type. I’d pin him as a similar age to me, with a sweet and sexy smile that reaches his ears. Floppy, dark hair contrasts with his bright blue eyes, and while he isn’t tattooed, he is broad and tall—at least six feet.
He takes in my outfit, his eyes ascending from my knee-high black boots to my dark blue jeans before finally landing on my crisp white button-down blouse that is partially open and skimming the top of my cleavage.
I look hot tonight; I can’t deny it. I applied a touch of makeup in the taxi but left my hair to air-dry naturally since I’m one of those lucky people who likes their hair when I don’t bother to style it. I rarely need to use straightening irons.
“You’re Jenna Miller, right?”
His confident question shocks me. I don’t think any stranger has ever instantly recognized me like I’m some kind of celebrity.
I look off to the side and bite my bottom lip. “That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
He smiles wider. “Knowing your name is presumptuous?”
I shake my head and switch the cue from one hand to the other, leaning my ass against the pool table behind me. I feel like I’m failing miserably at flirting.
“No. It’s presumptuous to think that I’d confirm my identity to a strange man.”
Taking a small step toward me, he seems to appreciate my response and respects my boundaries, and I feel my shoulders relax a little as a result.
“I watched your game earlier,” he confirms, taking another tentative step so I can smell his cologne. It’s strong and spicy, and he’s wearing way too much. “I know I’m not exactly famous, but I used to play semi-pro soccer in England before I ruptured my ACL and came out of the sport altogether. That save you pulled off today was legendary.”
He has a soft Southern accent that I usually adore, but it’s not really his voice I’m hearing, and that frustrates the shit out of me. If it wouldn’t make me look like the biggest weirdo, I’d slap myself across the face to break from my Tommy Schneider thoughts.
He motions to the cue I’m holding. “I’m also pretty good at pool if you want me to give you some pointers?”
“Learning how to play pool is not high up on my priority list.”
The nameless guy scrubs a rough hand across his mouth. “You can just tell me to fuck off if you’d like.”
It’s my perfect opportunity to break free and head home for the night or at least make an escape to the bar for another drink.
But for what purpose? And why should I? The Jenna from a few weeks ago wouldn’t have hesitated to flirt like crazy with this guy, who is obviously into me. Sure, he might’ve gone a little heavy on the cologne, but he’s at least being inventive with trying to pick me up. Most men have already promised the world in bed by now and given me the full ick.
For a brief second, I let my gaze rove the length of his body. He, too, is wearing a white shirt and blue jeans.
“We match,” I tell him, pointing to my own outfit.
My observation must spur him on because he moves closer to me—one more inch, and he’ll be pressing into my body.
I fight the urge to step back, even though I couldn’t with the pool table set right behind me.
“My name’s Ethan. Nice to meet you, Jenna.”
The wobbly legsI had earlier in the night would collapse underneath me if it wasn’t for Ethan’s strong arm holding me up.
The last thing I can remember is Kendra leaving to head home hours ago and then Ethan guiding me to the bar. The rest is history.
“I’m supposed to be a pro athlete,” I slur out into the night sky as Ethan continues walking us both back to my place. At least, I think that’s where he’s taking us. I gave him my address and handed him the key to my apartment.
When we turn a corner, my apartment building comes into view, and I heave a sigh of relief. I should recognize these streets, but everything about this night has passed by in a blur.
“I wasn’t supposed to get this drunk,” I tell Ethan when he holds on to me with one arm and uses the fob attached to my key ring to enter the building.
