Would Emily get mad if she went home?
“That’s Nicola,” Max said from behind them, smiling for the first time since they had ordered pizza. “She’s the queen of extraction and a total badass.”
The trio at the counter turned, and Vivienne pretended like she hadn’t been staring.
Deacon brought his bowling shoes to the lane and plopped onto a chair next to her. Emily gave her a sly wink.
It didn’t mean anything. There was an empty seat; Deacon filled it. No big deal.
“Is that one of the new tops you bought in Albany?” he asked, slipping out of his shoes and pushing them beneath his chair.
“Yeah.”
“I like it.”
He shouldn’t like it. His girlfriend was sitting right beside him.
After all the introductions were made, Ethan flashed her a grin. “Good to see you again, Vivienne.”
She returned the smile. “You too.” She’d had two classes with him, Physics and History.
“How’s everything going for you since moving here?” Nicola asked, resting a hand on Ethan’s arm. The move was subtle, but there was no mistaking its possessiveness. Interesting . . . Maybe Nicola wasn’t with Deacon after all.
Vivienne’s mood brightened. “I don’t have any complaints.”
“Have you had a chance to think about careers yet?”
“Penelope said I should look into recruiting.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought Deacon perked up at her announcement.
“Recruiting is for people with no imagination,” Nicola said with a wink. “Extraction is where we have all the fun.”
Max raised his hands and told her he was hoping to get accepted into the program.
“That’s great.” An appreciative smile crossed Nicola’s full, glossed lips. “I look forward to welcoming you to the team.”
“Hold on a minute.” Deacon stood and adjusted his pants from where they had slid down his hips. “If you work in extraction, all you do is laze around waiting for someone to screw up.”
“As long as you’re in the field, Dash, we don’t get to laze around at all.” Nicola hit his leg with her elbow. She touched him a lot for someone who seemed to be dating someone else.
“Forget them both. Scouting is where it’s at,” Ethan drawled, leaning against the back of his plastic chair and putting his hands behind his head. “Laid back. No-pressure.”
“They put you on scouting duty because you’re shit at everything else.” Deacon tossed one of his shoes in Ethan’s direction.
Ethan swatted it to the floor and told him to shut the hell up.
Vivienne couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe tonight was going to be fun after all.
Emily put everyone’s names into the computer and chatted to Nicola about personal shopping. Meanwhile, everyone else discussed the teams. When Deacon suggested boys versus girls, Ethan groaned.
“No way, dude,” he said. “I don’t want you on my team.”
“Why not? I could be really good.”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know?”
Ethan raised his brows and kicked Deacon’s foot. “Remember Georgia?”
Deacon winced.
What had happened in Georgia?
“Well, we don’t want him either,” Nicola clipped, selecting a purple ball from the rack. “And since we’re doing boys versus girls, I’m afraid you’re stuck with him, babe.”
“Vivienne would let me on her team,” Deacon said, nudging her knee with his, “wouldn’t you Vivienne?”
“Not if you’re bad.” She didn’t want to lose.
He chuckled, leaned closer, and whispered, “What if I promise to be very, very good?”
Bowling. He was talking about bowling. He had to be talking about bowling. Because if he wasn’t—
She gaped at him as he got up, grabbed a ball from the rack, and asked who was first.
An hour later, the boys trailed by ten pins. Deacon had put two balls into the gutter, and he couldn’t stop laughing about it. Ethan made fun of him until it was his turn and he bounced one into the abyss.
“I think you’re worse at this than you are at football,” Deacon teased, catching Ethan in a headlock and wrestling him to the ground.
“Dude, we’re on the same team!” Ethan growled, shaking free and heading toward the bathroom.
“It’s a good thing Max is here,” Deacon shouted to his friend’s back. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have broken double digits.”
“You guys both suck,” Max said with a laugh. “Next time I want Vivienne and Emily on my team.” He proceeded to bowl one straight down the middle for his team’s first strike.
“You know you’re not much better, right?” Vivienne nodded toward the screen. Deacon’s score was half of her own. “I thought you said you were good at bowling.”
“I wasn’t talking about bowling.” He winked at her and her heart stuttered.
Flirt and fly away.
She had to remember that.
A loud shout resonated from the corner, where a drunken group of college-aged guys took up three lanes. Emily bowled seven pins, then announced that she was going to get a refill.
After seeing some of the college guys stumble toward the snack bar, Vivienne offered to go with her. She didn’t feel comfortable letting Emily go on her own. Plus, she needed to get away from Deacon so she could breathe.
He was so confusing. Disappearing for weeks without a word and then reappearing again like no time had passed. And last night . . . Had it only been last night? Something had definitely changed between them.
When Vivienne and Emily approached the counter, the group of guys parted, nudging each other and whispering.
“Hello, there,” one said over the top of his beer can. He took a long drink but spilled some over the Greek letters on his shirt. The name Bret was sewn onto his breast pocket.
Vivienne said, “Hi,” knowing he would be more obnoxious if she refused to acknowledge him.
Bret wiped his mouth and gave her a sloppy grin. “What are you girls up to?”
“Bowling,” Emily answered haughtily. “Excuse me?” She waved to the woman behind the counter and asked for a refill.
“Do you go to Worcester State too?” asked another guy with patchy stubble and a faded black eye.
“No, we don’t,” Vivienne told him in her most dismissive voice.
A third man with long hair pulled back beneath a bandana pushed forward. “What brings you our way then?”
Emily shook her full cup in his face and said, “Bowling.”
“Are you girls looking for something to do after you’re finished bowling?” Bret asked.
The others behind him sniggered.
“Not with you.” Emily’s disapproving look remained as she turned back toward their lane.
When Vivienne moved to join her, Bret caught her wrist with his clammy hand. “What about you?”
“What about me?” She attempted to tug free. Bret’s friends closed ranks around him, shutting off her exit.
His fingers tightened around her wrist. “Do you wanna get outta here, tiny thing?”
Was he serious? Gross. “Yeah, no.”