Page 25 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

Dex

I settle on rock climbing.

I figure it will be fun for Wyatt, and also, I get to see Margot’s lower half in one of those harnesses you’re required to wear.

Plus.

She’ll get to see me in one, too, if you catch my drift .

We agree to meet at the climbing center. It’s crowded, but not everyone is participating in rock climbing—they have miniature golf, too, something she and I have done already in a roundabout way.

I lean against a tall column in the lobby waiting, wondering if I should be outside watching for them, second-guessing myself.

So unlike me.

Stuff my hands in the pockets of my athletic pants, trying my best to look casual.

It’s an impossible task.

The last time I felt casual and unaffected was ... at a bar, probably. It helps knowing there’s no need to exert effort when people approach me, and by people , I mean women . I do not go to them. Don’t have to.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking—I sound cocky and arrogant and not worthy of a woman like Margot because I’m an immature bag of shit, and to that I say: So what?

I never claimed to be perfect, and I’ve been up front from the beginning.

Mostly.

The way I see it, I’m up against three things when it comes to Margot and her affection:

She straight up told me to my face not to fuck with her unless I was serious. She is a package deal.

I’m fucking with her anyway, even though I’m not in the market for said package.

I’m keeping a secret from her now, and it may or may not fester, depending on how I spin the truth. To myself, or to her.

Time will tell.

Not that she has to find out about my conversation with Trent, but I was an idiot when I told Landon about it because saying the words out loud somehow made it feel sordid?

“We’re just friends and she knows it. Deep down inside she knows this isn’t the real deal,” I mutter to myself.

How could she? I am a grown child!

“Now is not the time to grow a conscience.” I shrug off the angel on my shoulder—he has no place here. I haven’t done anything wrong.

“Dex!” a voice calls to me, and I see Wyatt flying toward me, braids flapping behind her as she beelines toward the column where I stand.

“Hey, Wyatt.” I return her enthusiasm, though it may not quite reach my eyes. Too much on my mind for that.

I try to shake it off ...

“Hello, Mommy,” I say to Margot.

She scowls. “Don’t do that.”

“Too soon?” I chuckle.

“Uh—yeah.” She laughs, though, shooting her gaze at her daughter.

Whoops.

Guess I shouldn’t be making innuendos in front of the kid. She’s too smart. In fact, her beady little gaze is bouncing between her mom and me, back and forth, back and forth until I clear my throat.

Busted.

“Who’s ready to have fun?”

Wyatt’s arm shoots in the air enthusiastically, as if she were raising her hand at school. She waves it around for good measure.

“I cannot wait to climb this wall. There’s nothing I want more,” Margot deadpans, and I can’t decide if she’s being sarcastic or not, so I ignore her tone.

I tilt my head.

Goddamn, she’s cute even when she’s being a shithead.

Margot is dressed in one of those ways chicks dress when they try to look like they made no effort in their appearance but took a ridiculous amount of time to make it look like they made no effort in their appearance.

Leggings. T-shirt with a college logo. Sneakers.

Fanny pack.

My brows go up at that choice.

I’ve taken the liberty of getting us registered and have the waivers ready for Margot to sign. All that’s left is introducing ourselves to the climbing instructor, who is so granola he doesn’t recognize me, and if he does, he clearly does not give a shit.

He is so. Into. Rock climbing.

Nerd.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom before we get started,” Margot announces, giving her daughter one of those looks my mother used to give me when I was young. It says “Behave while I’m gone.”

I watch her walk off, sidestepping several people along the way, as the place is moderately busy.

As soon as her mother is out of sight, Wyatt whirls toward me, eyes wide. “You know what we should do?”

She is wasting no time.

I’m terrified by this child, to be honest, and what she could possibly be about to say. She’s got an adult brain trapped in a preteen’s body, and I can see the wheels spinning.

“No. What should we do?” I haven’t the faintest.

“We should have a hand shake.” She announces it in a conspiratorial whisper, practically giddy at the notion.

“A handshake?” Thank God that’s all she wants to do.

I thought she was going to say something truly horrifying, like: “Why are you such a lying asshole?” Or, “Why are you dating my mother when you have no intention of getting serious?” Or, “Why are we rock-wall climbing when you clearly have no idea what you’re doing and your body weight is going to be too heavy for you to hoist up the wall without a fight? ”

“Sure.” I can do a handshake.

“The kind you have to practice and that we can do when I see you.”

I nod. “I know what kind you’re referring to.”

Wyatt immediately grabs my hand, zero hesitation, bumping my hip with hers, as if attempting to recreate the handshake from The Parent Trap remake. The handshake done between the redheaded twin and her fancy butler slash driver.

I can’t help but laugh.

Wyatt looks so determined, tongue sticking out between her teeth in concentration.

“Have you actually ever done a handshake?” ’Cause a few things go into one, and one of those things is skill, based on your level. “We can start with something easy. Like this.”

I present my fist so she can bump it. Hold out my elbow so she can bump that.

Clap, clap. Bump. Clap.

“Now let’s do that again,” she tells me, total concentration furrowing her little brow.

We do it again.

Then once more.

So many times that Margot is back from peeing, watching us but not commenting, an amused smile on her face. Arms crossed.

“Are the two of you almost done?” She laughs. “That is your fifth time. Not that I’m in any rush to strap on that ... belt-bungee-contraption thingy.”

“Harness.” I correct her terminology. “Which I’m dying to see you in.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so amusing.” Not.

“Come on, let’s go.” Wyatt practically drags me to the wall, hand wrapped around my forearm, little arms and legs working. Pretty strong considering how puny she is.

I let her pull me along, pretending to struggle. “All right, all right, I’m coming. No need to flex those tiny muscles.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m stronger than I look,” she shoots back, her grin wide.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” I reply, trying to stifle a laugh.

The instructor, some dude named Ben—with a permanent five-o’clock shadow and a smile that suggests he gets a lot of action from this gig—gets us situated with our rappelling gear.

Helmets. He has the air of someone who’s been scaling walls since birth, and his confidence has Margot smiling openly at him.

I frown.

“All right, guys, listen up,” Ben says, his voice carrying easily over the chatter in the cavernous room. “First things first, let’s make sure your harnesses are on properly.” He walks around, checking each of us. When he reaches me, he gives my harness a quick tug and nods. “Looks good, buddy.”

Buddy? I’m not your buddy, man.

Wyatt gets the same treatment. “A little tight there, champ. You’re not trying to cut off circulation, are you?”

Next, Ben stops in front of Margot. “And you, miss.” He gives my date a cheeky once-over, pulling at her straps one too many times, hands lingering at her waist. “Perfect fit.”

What a douche.

When we’re ready and reach the base of the rock wall, I turn to look up at it. All the way up at it, to the top. It’s intimidating, but there is no going back. I’ll look like a total pussy if I back out now. This was my idea, after all.

“Ready to conquer this beast?” I am all bravado.

Margot groans. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Wyatt stands next to us, looking pretty damn adorable in her gear.

“You look like a pro,” I tell her to puff up her ego.

“Are you stalling?” She squints up at me.

“Pfft. Me? No.” I gesture grandly toward the wall. “Ladies first.”

Margot and Wyatt both narrow their eyes at me.

“Oh no,” my date announces. “This was your idea—you go first. You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

“Fine,” I grumble, fidgeting with the strap on my helmet. I hate this dumb thing—I look stupid and unsexy. “But if I get stuck, you’re coming up to rescue me.”

“You’re not going to get stuck.”

I chuckle, fiddling with my harness straps. It’s got my nuts in a vise grip.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Ben is demonstrating the essential moves and giving basic instructions.

“... climbing is all about balance and rhythm.” I swear he looks at Margot when he says the word rhythm . “Keep three points of contact with the wall at all times—two hands and a foot, or two feet and a hand.” He winks. “Don’t forget to trust your gear.”

This fuckin’ guy . . .

Margot raises an eyebrow, nodding. “Trust the gear. Right.”

“I got you—don’t be nervous.” Ben grins. “It’s natural to be a bit frightened. Just remember, your harness and rope are your lifeline. They’re designed to hold much more than your weight.” He points at me. “Like him.”

Me? Fuck you, dude!

Ben points to the rock wall. “Look for solid footholds and handholds. If you feel stuck, take a moment to regroup. There’s no rush.”

“No rush,” Wyatt repeats, determined.

“Any questions before we start?” Ben goes on, scanning our faces.

Wyatt’s hand goes into the air. “What if we fall?”

Ben shakes his head. “That’s what the belay is for.” He jiggles the harness around his waist. “Trust me, you’re not going anywhere.”

After a final check of our gear, he claps his hands. “All right, who’s ready to climb?”

“Dex, you’re going first!” Wyatt reminds me impatiently, nudging me toward the base of the wall. “Go!”

Ben gives me a thumbs-up, that fucker.

With everything securely fastened, I grapple for the first grip hold to start my ascent.

Easy!

I climb up another few feet, moving quicker—and more confidently—up the wall. The rock feels cool beneath my palms, and solid, and I find my rhythm faster than I was expecting. Not too far below, I hear Wyatt and Margot chattering away, their voices carrying up.

“Do you actually think he’s going to make it to the top without falling?” Wyatt asks.

“I give him about ten minutes before he slips,” Margot replies with a laugh. “He’s not built for this.”

“Yeah, he is pretty big,” Wyatt agrees.

“Hey!” I shout down to them, trying to sound indignant. “I can hear you.”

“Focus on climbing!” Margot shouts back. “Stop looking down at me.”

“I’m not looking at you—I’m looking down your shirt.”

She glances down at her shirt; it provides full coverage. Ha! Made her look!

“Could you not say things like that?” She laughs. “Tiny ears are listening.”

“Whoops.”

I resist the urge to make another smart-ass remark, and I keep moving.

The higher I go, the better the view gets.

Through the massive windows flanking the entire warehouse, I catch sight of the sun beginning to set.

It casts a warm glow over everything. It’s actually quite beautiful from this vantage point, and for a moment, I forget about the teasing and the banter with Margot and Wyatt and focus on the bell at the top of the wall.

So close.

Closer . . .

Finally, I reach the top. Ring the bell. Haul myself over the edge. Stand with my hands on my hips, gazing down at them triumphantly.

“Made it! Beat that, you two!”

Margot squints up at me, shielding her eyes from the fluorescent lights. “All right, show-off, your turn to watch. And no commentary, we’re trying to concentrate.”

I grin as she starts her climb. “No promises!”

“Here we come!” Wyatt gives me a thumbs-up. “Let’s see if Mom can do it without complaining the whole way up.”

Margot turns to her daughter, looking incredulous at her audacity.

“Oh, she’ll complain,” I call down to them, popping a squat and settling in to watch. “That’s half the fun.”