Page 27 of Playing Dirty

Camden’s hand lands on my arm when I shove off my barstool, but I push it away with ease before storming in the direction of Madden.

“T, I don’t think—ah, fuck it,” I hear my friend call from behind me.

And yeah, I know what he was about to say.

I don’t think this is a good idea,or something along those lines. Which, yeah, he’d be right about. But I’m a man on a mission right now, spurred into action by sheer irritation and alcohol, and nothing’s gonna stop me.

Madden spots me quickly as I approach. If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t let on. In fact, he’s the picture of composure when he offers a slight chin nod before greeting me.

“Theo. Having a nice night?”

I ignore the pleasantries, instead getting to the crux of the issue by snapping out, “Are you following me?”

“I didn’t even know you were here,” he states slowly, only to cock his head slightly. “And also, how exactly would I have followed you when you skipped out on dinner?”

Fair enough, though I’m half tempted to pull out my phone and check for AirTags nearby to be on the safe side. But rather than look like more of an idiot in front of him for the second time today, I dig my heels in deeper.

“Okay, then what are you doing here? You don’t drink, so whywould you hang out at a bar?”

A flicker of confusion crosses his face while his penetrating stare bores into me, but he schools his features quickly before responding.

“Last time I checked, there are more things to do at a bar besides drinking alcohol.”

As if to prove his point, he motions over near the corner, where Cam and I just finished playing darts, then at the pool table currently occupied by other patrons. And it pisses me off how easily he has plausible deniability at every goddamn turn.

“You being here alone kinda puts a dent in your game plan, don’t you think? Because the last timeIchecked, you need more than one person to play darts or pool.”

His lips twitch ever so slightly, and I swear he’s getting off on my irritation right now.

“And it’s not like you’d ever say yes, right?”

“I’m here with friends,” I reply, the statement coming out a little more defensive than I intended.

From the way he continues to fight a smile, it’s clear he noticed too. “And who’s to say I’m not meeting someone too?”

For whatever reason, the question gives me pause. Because I hadn’t considered that as an option.

“Are you?”

“I am, actually,” he murmurs before his gaze darts over my shoulder. “And as a matter of fact, he just got here.”

My body tenses, and I have to fight the urge to turn and look for whoever it could be. There could very well be no one he’s meeting, and he’s just trying to make me look like an idiot all over again. Yet, from the way he does one of those little chin nods and grabs his soda off the bar top,clearly about to go join whoeverheis, I have a feeling that’s not the case.

Madden glances at me briefly, his assessing gaze lingering on my face for a moment before he murmurs, “Have a nice time with your friends.”

I don’t respond, nor do I turn to see who he’s gone to greet. There’s no way I’m giving him any satisfaction of piquing my interest. Which is why I lock my gaze on Camden and head back to the other side of the bar instead.

Marcus ends up dipping out not long after I return, having to work in the morning, but Cam and I stick around with the promise that neither one of us will be driving anywhere. Not that I even have a car—having been smart enough to leave the rental and just taking an Uber to meet them.

Of course, even with the promise made, we likely shouldn’t have been left without supervision, because it only takes a few minutes after his departure for us to down a round of shots before ordering yet another round of drinks. Well, Camden orders us another round, but I order water to go with it.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.”

I arch a brow. “Did no one ever teach you the proper way to drink? You’re supposed to go one to one with water, and you haven’t touched a drop all night.”

He smirks. “If you’re an old fucker, maybe.”

“Pretty sure there’s no age restriction on staying hydrated, for one. And I’m only eight months older than you, you dickwad.”