Page 11 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)

NAOMI

I fake a smile back at my date as I force myself to listen to another story about disc golf.

As a chronically single woman, I’ve realized a very important fact about dating.

Every date will not be a home run, but there is always something to enjoy out of it.

The process, sure, it can be redundant, but it can also be fun.

It’s part of the journey, getting to know someone, listening to their story, and finding pleasure in their company.

The less you look at it like a date with the intent to find love, the more we find enjoyment in all the little things.

We can find flaws in anyone, that’s easy, so I make it my mission to find the things I like about them.

Other than the fact that he talks incessantly, he’s a nice guy. I mean, I probably share the same amount of chemistry with a garden gnome, and even though he’s not half bad looking, there is zero happening in the attraction department. In fact, he seems a little pompous and conceited.

A total turn off for me.

I have yet to answer any questions about me, because, well, he hasn’t asked any. And he can’t stop talking about himself. He’s talked about his job as a general contractor, his love for stand-up comedy, and disc golf. So not only do we lack chemistry, but we lack anything in common.

I continue to smile and nod as I try to give him my undivided attention while I appraise him, studying his dark features. His thick jawline and high cheekbones pair well with his dark brown eyes and slightly curly, shaggy hair.

He’s handsome, but all I can envision is him with a bandana and he’d look like Rambo. I smile at the memory of my own personal Rambo, and yet hate how much the memories of our moments feel as happy as they do painful.

I peer over the shoulder of wanna be Rambo, and flinch as I see him again—his eyes meet mine and I feel his presence all the way to my bones. A shiver runs through me as I blink hard. I position myself in front of my date to avoid staring at a stranger that I think is him again.

My date is still talking about disc golf…I’m still unsure how there is so much to say on the topic, but I distract myself by tilting my head to peek over his shoulder again.

The table is empty.

Of course, it’s empty, because I’m going crazy.

But, he felt so real that time. So real.

“Would you excuse me for a minute, Jeremy?” I interrupt my date’s topic of lighter versus heavier frisbees, and the importance of their use in game play.

Standing, my chair scoots back and I place my napkin on the table, then head straight to the women’s bathroom.

Fortunately, it’s empty and I’m able to give myself a moment to splash some cold water on my face.

I’ve never been one to wear much makeup. In fact, I never do when I teach, but on nights like this, I do wear a little foundation and mascara. I avoid splashing any over my eyes so I don’t end up looking like a raccoon for the rest of the night .

God, I’m really losing it. Seeing him tonight, feeling him like I just did… that has never happened before.

Puffing my cheeks and blowing out some excess air, I realize now, I really do need to go back to Afterburn and ask for him. I need to confront that part of my past.

Patting my face dry, I toss the damp paper towel in the garbage and open the door to exit. I jump back with a gasp as I’m hit with a wall of flesh. My eyes trail up his torso, to his chest, and over the snug, charcoal colored shirt he is wearing under his sports jacket.

His jawline is smooth and tight, and then my eyes meet his.

The ones I thought I knew so well, once timid and amiable, now look more experienced and confident.

I always felt like Seamus was wise beyond his years.

He was more mature than all the other guys his age, chivalrous and attentive, even back then.

As my eyes bounce between his, it’s the same old soul but different .

My brows furrow as I realize…he's actually here.

The anxiety I was feeling earlier at the thought of him morphs into something else…frustration. The mix of his presence and my imagination has my mood changing in a kaleidoscope of emotions.

“What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

“We need to talk.” The deep bass of his voice vibrates through me.

So not only did he have to grow up into some god-like structure, but he also sounds like Zeus on steroids.

“I’m a little busy right now.” I cross my arms over my chest and his eyes flicker, oh so quickly, to my cleavage that’s now pushed up from my forearm shelf.

“Lose the date.” His deep voice isn’t angry, it’s factual. Like he already knows I’m going to listen. “He’s going to bore us both to death. ”

My eyes widen as my eyebrows hit my forehead, and my shocked face is an understatement.

The audacity he has.

And how the hell does he know how boring he is? He’s not wrong, but still.

After all these years, here I am seeing ghosts of him, wondering if I’ve lost my mind, and now he’s appearing out of nowhere, coming at me like a bullet train with no brakes.

“Mimi.” He cocks his head at me like, he can’t believe I’m not obeying his stupid, bossy order.

“Well.” I clear my throat while switching my purse from one shoulder to the other, purposely hitting him with it on the side swing. “You of all people know how I respond to bullies.” I creep up onto my tippy toes and lean in close to him to whisper in his ear.

“I take the other guy home.” Leaning back to look at him once more, I give him a fake smile then squeeze between him and the door.

I can hear the frustrated breath he sucks in as I walk away and head toward my table.

My confused state has me in a completely different world by the time I sit back down.

I glance back to the hallway where the bathrooms are, but I don’t see him. My eyes search the restaurant, and nothing.

Maybe he actually listened.

And I’m confused, and pissed, that I feel disappointed by that.

I turn back to Jeremy and realize how uninvested I am, knowing I just need to call it a night.

“So, ready to go back to my place, babe?”

Ewww, babe . My nose scrunches at the nickname.

“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you.” My tone is friendly, but factual .

He shrugs. “I bought dinner, so how about you treat me to some dessert…in my bed.”

He wiggles his eyebrows.

Oh my God, this guy.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He reaches over, gripping my hand a little harder than he should, but I yank it back, accidentally hitting the wine glass between us. The deep red liquid splashes onto the table and a few drops splatter onto his shirt.

“You bitch!” He stands, throwing his hands out like I just threw a barrel of gasoline on him.

My jaw is slacked as I stare up at him, towering over me at the table.

It was just a little wine, and it was an accident.

“Sit down.” Seamus’ deep voice cannons through us both as he steps up to the table.

Jeremy eyes him up and down, confused. “Who the hell are you?”

Seamus glances down at me, an almost invisible smirk ticks on the corner of his lips, then he looks back over to my date.

“Dude…” Jeremy’s arm reaches out to push Seamus away. Seamus knocks it away then cups his hand along Jeremy’s collarbone, right where it meets his neck, and grips him hard.

Jeremy’s legs fall from underneath him and his ass plops down onto the chair.

“What the hell?” Jeremy appraises himself, like he’s unsure why his body did what it just did.

My jaw drops open as my eyes bounce between the two men.

“Let’s go.” Seamus holds his hand out toward me.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I roll my eyes and open my purse. Grabbing a twenty dollar bill, I toss it on the table. I hate feeling like this man thinks I owe him something. Twenty isn’t enough to cover my portion of the bill, but it’ll do for my conscience at least .

Plus, that’s like the universal, I’m definitely not into you sign, so hopefully Jeremy never calls me…ever again.

Standing, I tip up my chin, saying nothing as I turn to walk out of the restaurant.

Glancing back over my shoulder, because clearly I’m addicted to the drama, Jeremy attempts to follow me. I see Seamus hold out his palm to him, calling a command like an owner to a dog. “Stay.” Then he turns to watch me as I round the corner of the entrance door.

Ugh! Why is he here? How is he here? Coming out of the woodwork, bossing my boring date around.

I pull out my phone, open the Uber app, and call for a car. Fortunately, there is one available within four minutes.

I should have driven, but I hate driving at night, and I never drive even if I have one drink.

Standing on the side of the curb, I glance up and down the street, looking for the silver Toyota Camry that is surely nowhere nearby yet.

“Do you know how much restraint it took not to reply with your worst nightmare .” His voice is deep velvet, and even mocking Rambo sounds like cashmere to my ears.

My back is to him, thank God, because I have to press my lips together to stop my smile and suppress my giggle.

Damn him. My goofy Seamus. The one I remember so well.

Then I remember I’m mad at him.

“Seamus,” I turn to face him, “what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.”

I scrunch my nose and screw up my face. “How are you even here?”

“I saw you.”

“Did you follow me?” He remains quiet.

“Do you live here?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Where? ”

“Seattle.”

I huff and roll my eyes as I look away from him. Yes, that’s where here is. Ugh.

“We need to talk. That last day...what you think happened, didn’t happen like that.”

“Seamus, stop.” I avoid looking at him. I can’t do this, I can’t listen to him telling me what I should think when I know what happened.

“I know what happened, Seamus, I was there. I know exactly what happened.” I divert my gaze down at my phone, anywhere I can look except on his gorgeous, tight body and stupid, beautiful face.

At seventeen, he was cute. A soft, smooth jawline with far too much hair on his head that didn’t fit the frame of his face, but he still had a strong, lean build.