How can she act so casual? As if seeing me is just a normal, everyday thing? I know we didn’t make any promises to each other, nor were we in any sort of relationship, but hell, I’m a little shook from seeing her.
After the thrill of being called up to the Majors and packing, I sat on my red-eye to Chicago thinking about how I’d bolted out of the bar and away from Myla before I could actually process it all. Guilt consumed me, and when I landed, I messaged her on Instagram and apologized for bolting. I told her if she was ever in Chicago to contact me.
She never wrote back.
And clearly, she never contacted me. Maybe she has a boyfriend?
I thought that she was mad, had moved on, or just didn’t see the value in continuing our conversation. I still kept up with her drink pictures, and though I thought about her often, I never said anything because, well, I didn’t want to badger her. She was in Phoenix, and I was in Chicago, so not much could be done.
But now that she’s here . . .
She sets her phone down and looks up at me. Her beautiful eyes study what I can only imagine is a perplexed expression. “Why the scowl?” she asks, motioning to my forehead.
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head, trying to rid myself of my thoughts. “I’m just confused is all. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Aw.” She places her hand on my thigh and leans forward. “Are you flustered?”
“A little.” I chuckle.
“That’s cute. Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you.” She sips from my beer. “It’s good to see you, though.” Her eyes roam my body, mainly fixating on my chest. “Looks like those protein bars have been paying off.”
For some stupid reason, I glance at my chest and then back up at her. “Uh, yeah. That and the strength and conditioning team for the Bobbies.”
“Well, good on them. And you’ve been enjoying Chicago?”
“Yeah, as much as I’ve been able to enjoy it. Baseball has taken up a lot of my time, so I haven’t really experienced the city as much as I’ve wanted. But what I have experienced, I’ve liked.”
She leans her elbow on the table, those bright, brilliant eyes nearly cutting through me. How could I forget how fucking beautiful she is? “Has anyone ever told you, you need to loosen up?”
“Several people,” I answer as I steal my beer for a sip, but then hand it back to her when I’m done.
“Maybe that’s what you try to do tonight.” She draws a circle over the back of my hand with her finger, and I willingly allow myself to revel in the way it makes me feel—turned on and wanting so much more. “Think you can have some fun with me?”
Uh, yeah . . . I think I can.
“Welcome to trivia night,” the host says into the mic, which quiets the bar. “We have ten teams tonight, all vying for the coveted fifty-dollar gift card to the Cold Stone Creamery across the street.”
The bar cheers as Myla says, “Fifty dollars’ worth of creamy creations . . .” She rubs her hands together. “You better be on your A game, Bisley. This girl wants some treats.”
“No need to worry about me,” I say as I glance toward Banner and Nichole, who seem to be heavy in conversation, and when I say conversation, I mean intimately touching each other. I hope they remember the four-person rule.
“What are your strengths in trivia?” Myla asks as she sips from our shared glass.
“Sports and history. What about you?”
In the most serious tone I’ve ever heard her use, she says, “Everything, Ryot. Everything would have been the best answer.”
I chuckle. “Sorry. I meant everything.”
She offers me a wink. “Good answer.”
The host explains the rules.
Our burgers are dropped off, and I split mine with Myla.
And once we’re set, the game begins.
“Ryot, I swear to God, if you don’t let me use my answer, I will scream.”
“I don’t think you’re right.”
“Well, guess what, I didn’t ask you, Mr. Fact Checker, because I know you’re wrong. One hundred percent you’re wrong, and if you keep throwing up these half-assed answers, I’m not going to win that gift card to Cold Stone, and I’m going to lose my mind. So, erase your dumb answer and put down mine.”
“You really think the answer is Tiger?”
“I know it is. Now write it,” she snaps.
This is how it’s been the entire time. Myla and I go back and forth with answers while Nichole and Banner whisper into each other’s ears. Well, they’re doing more than that. I actually witnessed Nichole’s hand rubbing over Banner’s jean-clad crotch, so I know it’s only a matter of time before they take off.
Not wanting to argue anymore, I write down Tiger and hold up the whiteboard.
Once the time is up, the host for the night says, “Bisley’s Balls, you’re correct.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter while Myla claps excitedly.
She nudges me and says, “Have you learned your lesson yet?”
“Annoyingly so.”
“We’re going to take a ten-minute break before the finale,” the host says. “Feel free to fill up on drinks.”
“We’re headed to the bar,” Banner says. “Want anything?”
“I’m good,” I answer. “Myla, do you want something?”
“We’ll both take another beer, thanks.” She winks and then turns toward me and rests her hand on my thigh. Our legs are touching because our stools are so close, and this entire time, even though we’ve been fighting over answers, she’s been very intimate with her touches. “Okay, now, this finale, it’s going to be worth all of the points. Are you going to argue with me or listen?”
“How about we have a healthy conversation over each answer? What if it’s about baseball, and you don’t know the answer?”
“If it’s about baseball, you can write whatever you want.” She pops a fry in her mouth.
“Aren’t you generous?” I note.
“Very.” She lifts a fry to my mouth, and I take a bite of it. “You know, this table of girls behind you has been staring at your back this entire time.”
I don’t turn to look at them. Instead, I keep my eyes on her. “Your point?”
“My point is you could go over there and make their dreams come true.”
“Probably, but they’re not who I want to talk to at the moment.”
She smirks. “You flirting, Bisley?”
“Trying to pick up where we left off.”
“And where was that exactly?” She taps her chin playfully.
“You don’t remember? Oh, let me help. I think you were about to send me naked pictures . . .”
She tips her head back and laughs. “Is that how we left things? Hmm, I think I recall it a bit differently. I was owning you in foosball, just like I’m owning you in trivia. And then you took off for a flight.”
“Hmm, I remember it differently.”
“I’m sure you do.” She rests her chin on her hand. “Tell me, Bisley, have you been seeing anyone?”