Page 65 of The Wrong Game

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Well, then, she’ll probably slap me and you and hate us both forever and that’ll be the end of it all.”

“Great.”

“But I don’t think it’ll go like that.”

I chuckled. “Of course you don’t. Let me ask you this. What if she doesn’t give a shit that I’m here, or that you’re here with me?”

Belle smiled at that, cocking one brow. “Again, trust me. She’ll care.”

I wasn’t as sure as she was, but regardless, I’d signed on. So, I reached forward for my beer, taking a drink and trying to settle my nerves. If anything, it would still be a fun day. I could watch football, hang out with Belle, and worst-case scenario, Gemma would prove that she really did just want to be my friend by not caring that I was there with someone else. If that were the case, then maybe I could finally move on and put her behind me.

Then again, maybe Belle really did know her as well as she said she did, and maybe she really did want me, too.

That little thread of hope was enough to make me smile. I felt it when Gemma looked at me, when she blushed any time I touched her, but her words and actions at the bar Monday night made me question everything.

She was like a Rubik’s Cube in a blind man’s hand — impossible to figure out.

And yet I was the blind man determined to try.

Belle leaned over, threading her arm through mine. “Thank you so much for bringing me,” she said, brushing a piece of my hair from my face.

I frowned, looking at her like she was crazy. “You told me to.”

Belle widened her eyes, still smiling as she spoke through her teeth. “I’m so excited to be here.”

It was then that I glanced behind her, just in time to see Gemma stop dead in her tracks on her way through the aisle to her seats.

My heart kicked to a thundering gallop at the sight of her, its rhythm racing in my ears as I tore my gaze away quickly and brought my attention back to Belle. I smiled at her, tapping her nose and pretending like I didn’t see Gemma behind her.

“Of course, I’m glad you came,” I said.

Belle smirked. “Game time,” she whispered. Then, she turned in her seat to face the field, smile growing when she pretended like she’d just noticed Gemma. “Oh! Hey! There you are!”

Belle stood, wrapping Gemma in a hug, though she was stiff in her arms. One hand held a beer, the other a hot dog, and her eyes were wide and zeroed in on me as her best friend held her. I stood, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jeans as I put on my game face.

“You must be Jordan,” Belle said next, releasing Gemma and reaching a hand back to the guy standing behind her. He was tall, lean, with the build of a soccer player or a golfer. He wore a navy blue Bears sweater, an orange and white plaid shirt cuffed underneath it, and khakis.

“Hey,” he said, smiling wide. He had the smile of a news anchor. “Yeah, nice to meet you…”

“Belle,” she answered for him. “I’m Gemma’s best friend. This is Zach,” she said, gesturing back to me. “My date.”

Jordan leaned past Gemma and Belle both to shake my hand, and the entire time we said our greetings, I watched Gemma out of the corner of my eye.

She was steaming.

Her cheeks were red, and though I could have assumed it was from the brisk chill in the air, I knew it wasn’t. She still hadn’t said a word, eyes wide and murderous as she flicked her gaze back and forth from me, to Belle, and back again.

And though I schooled my features, keeping my focus on Belle, I couldn’t help but check Gemma out in my peripheral. Her jeans were a dark denim, hugging her hips and thighs like they were painted on. She had on a hoodie, just like Belle, but it was a little baggier, covering her curves but giving her the girl-next-door feel that she pulled off so well. Her makeup was flawless, eyes outlined in a smoky charcoal, and her hair was flowing in soft curls over her shoulders.

She was beautiful. Just like always.

“Here, sit,” Belle said, pulling me down to sit next to her as she gestured to Gemma’s seats. “Oh, yum, a hot dog. I definitely want one of those,” she added, looking up at me. “Can we get one of those in a bit?”

“Whatever you want,” I answered easily, propping my arm up on the back of the chair behind her.

Gemma watched that arm for a brief second, then she tore her gaze away, plopping down into the seat next to Belle as Jordan took the one on the other side of her.