Page 39 of Never Date A Player
One guy’s brow quirks. He reaches over to an abandoned table and grabs a shallow, empty glass. He sets it in front of us and digs in his pocket, dumping three quarters, two dimes, and a stringy ball of lint on the table.
Lewis shakes his head. “We’re training tomorrow. Take it easy. The race is only three weeks away.”
Someone blows off the lint and more pockets empty until a dozen quarters pile in front of me. We really only need a couple.
“Let’s test her skills,” the guy with the glass says. “Any girl who can sink a quarter the first time deserves our respect, even if we have to drag her ass around the course in three weeks.”
So they think I’ll weigh them down? I can’t say I disagree, but I will kick their asses at Quarters.
I pick up the coin, glance at the glass, and look straight at the heckler. I strike the edge of my palm on the table and let the quarter fly.
It sinks with a clean ping.
“Whoaaa!” my team shouts above the drone, slapping each other’s backs.
I sweep through twenty-two ringers before my luck runs out. Lewis acted bored the entire time, but the rest of my team gulped beer with every shot—ignoring Lewis’s grandfatherly rule about not drinking. A few of the guys ask me about sports in high school and college. One of them asks me if I have a boyfriend.
My eyes dart to Lewis—why, I have no idea. But he’s waiting for my answer along with the rest of them.
“No.” I shake my head and smile.
“Are you looking for one?” the guy next to me asks with a saucy grin.
“Back off.” Zach thumps the guy’s shoulder. “Gen’s on our team, which means she’s off-limits. Think of her as your little sister.”
“After the race?” the guy quips.
Lewis rises and walks over. “Move it, Jake.” He squeezes in between Jake and me, and my body tenses.
The rest of the team switches to other topics, but I get the sense they’re observing. Not in an obvious way—just like the conversations have gone down a notch in volume and each guy takes turns glancing.
With Lewis so close to me, I’m feeling flushed and a bit hot. I unbutton my white shirt and wrap it around my waist.
The table goes silent.
I wore a silky tank underneath my shirt that I didn’t think was sexy, but maybe it is. I have actual cleavage in this top. Cali and my mom would be thrilled.
Lewis’s gaze strays to my bare arms, then shifts quickly to the beer he’s cupping.
Time for a subject change. “No Mira?”
His eyes narrow. “She’s not my girlfriend, Gen.” He rubs a condensation bead off the side of his glass. “She’s a close friend, but I don’t record her every move.”
“You fight like you’re in a relationship,” I say, to flush out the definition of the two of them.
A part of me wants him to be in a relationship. If he has a girlfriend, I can convince myself to stay away from him. The way I respond to Lewis scares me. It’s too intense.
He angles toward me, shutting out the others, though I’m pretty sure they’re listening. They can’t seem to talk and listen at the same time, so there’s not much conversation going on. “No relationship—not in the way you think. She’s like a sister to me.”
I look at him incredulously. “Does she know you think of her this way?”
“Yes.”
“How does she handle that knowledge?” I’m acting like a psychologist, but seriously, I must figure this out.
He lifts his shoulder in a lazy shrug, as if it doesn’t matter.
It matters, dammit. What they have together is so confusing, and I need to know what it means. “How did she deal with your past girlfriends?”
