Page 63 of Never Date A Player
“Crap.” I gape at him. “You totally did that on purpose.”
He tries to hide a smile, but his lips twitch.
The rest of the game continues in this vein. Me running the tip of my stick up Lewis’s calf while he’s making his shot, Lewis grazing his knuckles over my ass when I’m making mine. I win, but it’s a close thing with all the groping—I mean, distractions.
We’re parked in the chalet’s driveway and I’m searching for my keys, because no one ever remembers to turn on the porch light and I won’t find my keys in the pitch-black Tahoe night if I step out of the car.
New house rule: the last person to leave flips on the light or pays in dishwashing duties.
By the time I find what I’m looking for, Lewis has my car door open and is waiting for me. We walk to the entrance, and suddenly I’m nervous.
Will he ask to come in? Should I wait for him to, or offer first? I really don’t want this night to end. To say I’m attracted to Lewis is an understatement, but he’s also fun and I feel close to him.
In the dark of the front door, Lewis leans down and kisses me gently on the lips. “So, can I see you later this week?”
“Yeah,” I say dreamily. Wait—later? “You don’t want to come in?” That didn’t come out as casual as I intended, but he threw me with his attempt to leave so quickly.
He glances at the door, seemingly conflicted. “It’s our first date, so… I’ll call you soon, okay?” He turns to go.
What the eff?
“Lewis, the rule of nothing more than a kiss on the first date only applies to people who haven’t done more than kiss.” I grin suggestively. And why am I suddenly a desperate chick trying to get laid?
Oh yeah, because I am.
He grips the porch banister, his expression serious. “I want to do this right, Gen.”
We just ate at a fish shack and played gropey pool, I think, but don’t say. I raise my hand, bewildered. “And the right way is waiting for the next date?”
He shrugs one shoulder, his face uncertain.
“Fine,” I say, and run into my bedroom. I tear off my dress and grab sweatpants and a T-shirt from the top of the hamper. They could be clean, they could be dirty. I’m not even sure they’re mine.
I don’t care.
It turns out the bottoms are Cali’s, given they’re four inches too short, which I could have determined had I bothered to flip on the bedroom light.
What I’m about to do isn’t smart or cautious. It’s downright brazen. But nothing about Lewis leaving feels right, and ever since I started going with what feels right, things seem to be working out.
I want him to stay. With me. Tonight. I’ve never wanted anything more.
I run back and wobble against the doorframe, crossing my legs at the ankle to hide the heels I’m still wearing. Lewis must have stuck around for a second after I left, because he’s only now reaching the Jeep.
“Lewis.” He turns. “Date’s over.” I wave my hand down my wrinkled, too-short sweats. “Want to come in?”
For a second his face is blank, then it shifts into something focused and resolute. He shuts the car door, clicks the key fob, making the headlights flash, and walks past me into the house.
Chapter Twenty-One
In my haste to tear off my clothes, I didn’t notice the dim light glowing from Cali and Jaeger’s tent. No sign of Tyler, though, so at least I have the house to myself. Not that I’ll need all of it.
“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea, but do you mind if we hang out in my bedroom?” Lewis’s eyebrows rise, a hit of a smile on his face.
I guess I’m not fooling anyone. “C-Cali’s boyfriend, Jaeger—he’s staying with us,” I stammer, because damn. I don’t want him to think I’m like this with everyone. The more I’m with Lewis, the more I want to jump him, and kiss him, and touch him.
It’s totally his fault. It’s been like this from the beginning and that fateful dinner party. He rocked my peace of mind and broke down decade-old walls. “Space is tight, so they’re sleeping in a tent outside.”
Lewis eyes the tent through the window and nods in appreciation. “Nice.”
