Page 41 of The Wrong Game

“Hell yeah!” I screamed, bumping fists with a young kid behind me. When I turned to Zach, I high-fived him before I realized I’d done so, immediately yanking my hand away and glaring at him.

“Now I see why Janet and Roy said these were the best seats in the house.”

Warmth trickled down, like his words were rain and they’d fallen from a cloud above my head. I hated the way my stomach tilted, the way my throat tightened, all because of the way he looked at me.

The way he’d looked at me since the day we met.

I didn’t respond, leaning in to Ben again, instead.

“Hope you’re practicing those stripper moves,” I teased, sticking my tongue out at Ben.

He laughed. “Hey, don’t go making assumptions now. The game’s just getting started.”

I squeezed his arm, the high from the play still running through me as I picked up my beer again. And as I took the next sip, my eyes skirted to Zach, and I couldn’t help but think of how right Ben was.

The gamewasjust getting started.

But I already knew how it would end.

Zach thought he wassosmart, showing up at the game unannounced, buying the tickets next to mine. He thought he’d have my full attention, but that’s where he was wrong.

Two could play this game.

In addition to helping me focus on what I could control, my grandfather also taught me the value in being both patient and competitive. I’d always thrived on competition — with myself, with others. So, add Zach’s attempt to thwart my plan to my innate desire to prove to him — along with everyone else — that I could do anything I set my mind to, and I guess you could say he had absolutely zero chance.

I made it my mission to make him feel as invisible as possible, ignoring his flirty and sarcastic comments and focusing solely on Ben. I’d lean into him, touch his arm, laugh at his jokes — and any time he left to go get us beers, I went with him, not giving Zach the chance to have me alone.

At first, Zach seemed to take it as a challenge. He made a few smart-ass comments about Ben’s job and hobbies, all while saying it should have been illegal for me to bring a Lions fan into a Bears game with my season passes.

I didn’t disagree with him on that one.

But by the third quarter, Zach had grown quiet, sipping his beer with a permanent scowl as he watched me from the corner of his eye. Every time Ben would touch me, his jaw would clench, fist tightening around his aluminum bottle.

Ha! Serves you right.

Still, the Bears were down, and that was part of the game I wasnotenjoying. It was early in the season, and I knew we had plenty of games coming up. But I wanted to win them all.

Iespeciallywanted to win this one, since I had a bet riding on it.

“You know,” Ben teased after the Lions cleared a field goal, growing their lead from seven to ten. “Maybe we should discuss the details of this strip tease you’re going to give me. Like, do I get to pick the music?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, earning me a deep laugh.

“We never did decide exactly howmuchof a strip tease this was,” I pointed out.

“Is there a measurement on stripping? Like, levels or something?”

“Of course,” I answered easily, pulling up my sneaker and propping it on the seat back in front of us. “I mean, maybe I’m only going to strip my shoes and socks off.”

“Sexy.”

I pulled the shoe lace, untying the knot and slipping my heel out. “Mmm…” I said, biting my lip as I turned back to him. “Just a little tease for you, big boy.”

Ben laughed, tossing his head back before he watched me again with a curious gaze. “You really are something else.”

I smiled in return, but Zach slamming his empty beer bottle down on the other side of me jerked my attention his way. He kicked back in his seat, arms folded over his chest with his eyes on the field.

“You okay over there?” I asked, and I couldn’t hide my satisfied smirk.