Page 12 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

Theo

“Look, I know it sounds insane, but I think he actually might have put a tracker on me.”

Camden takes a long drink from his beer, having just listened to me rambling for twenty minutes about my series of run-ins with Madden at the resort—including the condom incident—before simply murmuring, “I can see it.”

My roommate’s older brother, Marcus, on the other hand? He thinks we’ve both completely lost our marbles, if his gaping stare is anything to go by.

“I just want you to think about this for a second. Because you’re right, you do sound insane,” Marcus says, glancing between us some more. “A tracker? He’s not some super spy, he’s a college athlete.”

Cam finishes off the rest of his beer and immediately shakes his head. “Doesn’t need to be a spy. He just needs an AirTag. Lots of athletes have those.”

I slump against the backrest of my barstool and stare at Cam, dumbstruck by the brilliance that just left his lips. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even think of that.”

My roommate tips his empty bottle at me in acknowledgment, but his brother still isn’t convinced.

“Are you two lightweights who need to be cut off already?” Marcus slowly utters.

I don’t know about Cam, but I shake my head, feeling perfectly fine with the steady intake of my alcohol. I’ve had two…no, three…whiskey and Cokes since meeting up with them a few hours ago, and I ate dinner with them before starting.

As much as I’m looking to take the edge off, I’m not looking to get plastered. Just hoping to hit that sweet spot between buzzed and drunk when I inevitably have to sleep in the same bed as Madden later tonight.

We head to the back of the bar for a quick game of darts after Cam buys another round. I’m just deep enough into that loose-lipped state that, when Marcus dips out to the bathroom, I use it as the opportunity to ask Cam something that’s been niggling at my brain all evening.

“Do you remember making out with me your freshman year?”

His lips purse, expression turning pensive while he throws the first two darts of his turn. He’s about to throw the third, but then he looks at me and laughs.

“Oh, shit. You’re right, I totally forgot about that.”

I can’t help the scoff that slips out. “I don’t know if I should be glad or offended.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively before tossing a dart at the board, where it sticks on the triple eight. “Someone looking for a repeat? ”

“I don’t think so.”

“Really, T. If you’re ready to finally take this friendship to the next level, all you have to do is ask.”

“I’ll pass,” I say with a laugh.

There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes when he heads over to the board, collects the darts, and tallies his score.

“If that’s the case, then why bring it up at all?” he muses while handing off for my turn.

“Phoenix mentioned it, and I wanted to see if you remembered it better than I did.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, not buying what I’m selling.

But Camden being Camden, he takes it a step further and leans in playfully, puckering his lips at me like a fish. I push my hand against his chest when he gets too close, knowing damn well this fucker may have gone through with it if I didn’t.

“You’re such a cretin sometimes.”

“But it’s why you love me,” he sing-songs, raising his beer bottle in my direction.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

He makes a fair point, though I’d never admit it aloud, let alone to his face. Cam may be the clown of the house and a complete idiot at times, but he’s also one of the realest people I know; unapologetically himself and always fun to be around.

We swap turns again after I’m done throwing, and I take the time to study him while he tosses the darts at the board, my mind still stuck on the topic.

“Do you remember why it happened?”

“I think it was because neither of us had ever kissed a guy before?” he says, though it comes out like a question. “The details are a bit blurry, but I’m pretty sure that’s how it happened.”

I really wish I remembered it. Or at least the way it made me feel and react. Then I’d have something to compare with these weird feelings I get around Madden. Because again, I can admit Cam is good looking—same as Madden.

But Cam doesn’t make me feel like I’ve been doused in gasoline and set on fucking fire every time he looks at me. Doesn’t fluster me or send electrical jolts into my body every time we make the slightest contact.

Madden, though…

Whatever it is with him, it’s eerily similar to attraction. But there’s so much frustration, resentment, and tension built into whatever else my body is feeling, I can’t figure out if that’s actually what it is. It doesn’t make sense in my brain.

Of course, trying to do so right now is a fool’s errand since I’m not entirely sober, but I digress.

Marcus rejoins us from the bathroom right as our game comes to a close, Camden coming out the victor, and I promptly drop my line of questioning.

Which gets rather difficult considering the whiskey swimming in my veins wants me to hyperfixate, but I manage to shove it away before the three of us find seats back at the bar again.

Another round is ordered while we continue bullshitting, and I’m able to get all things Madden off my mind for a while.

But as the saying goes, all good things come to an end, and that includes my blissful state of distraction when Cam clears his throat and looks over my shoulder to the other end of the bar.

“I…think you need to check your pockets, dude,” he says slowly.

My brows crash together while I’m mid-sip, only for understanding to smack me in the face when I follow Cam’s gaze and find none other than the bane of my fucking existence.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

I look away just as quickly, then finish off my drink before slamming it to the wooden bar top.

Cam watches me silently, observing my reaction before asking, “Guess I was right about that being him, huh?”

“Yeah,” I manage through gritted teeth. “But I’ll take care of it.”

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 why would 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 time I checked, 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 whoever he is, 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.”