Page 5 of His Secret
I sink my first shot and so does Adrian, so we get to go again. I make my second one, but he misses. Only one person on the other team makes his shot, so Adrian drinks up, and then we continue. Once again, I sink the ball into the cup, but Adrian misses.
“Come on, man,” I tease, elbowing him.
“Hey, I’m the drunk one. The cups are blurring together.”
The other team makes both of theirs, and then miss the next two. When Adrian finishes his second drink, I wonder if maybe I should drink some of these.
“Are you actually drunk?” I ask quietly. “Do you need me to drink some?”
He grins at me, his eyes a little red, but still clear and alert. “I’m not that drunk. I’m good.”
“Okay.”
We get down to three cups on their side, and they have five on ours. Adrian misses first, and as I’m taking aim, he creeps up to my side and whispers, “You got this, man.”
His breath ghosts across my neck, and I have to fight back the full-body chill that runs through me. I toss the ball and it hits the side of the cup and falls to the side.
“Dammit.”
The crowd watching lets out a collective “Aww,” at my streak going down the drain.
“It’s okay. I’ll make this for both of us,” Adrian states.
He doesn’t. The other team ties it up, leaving us with three cups a piece. I start getting really into it, and my pulse spikes as the nerves take over. I want to win!
I make mine. Adrian misses.
They make one.
Adrian makes his, then comes over and grabs me, playfully shaking me while our bodies are pressed against each other. “Come on, come on,” he says joyfully, basically humping my hip.
I miss, because of course I did. How can I focus after this man just grinded all over me?
The other team makes one.
“Okay, wait, wait, wait. I need to discuss strategy with my partner,” Adrian says, pulling me away and wrapping an arm around my neck as he moves in close. “Who should throw first? If we make this, we win. Well, they can counter attack, but hopefully they miss. If we miss both shots, then our fate rests in their hands. One of us has to…”
I stop hearing him. His words fade into the background and the sound of my rapidly beating heart takes over. Adrian’s hair brushes against my forehead, and his lips look so soft and inviting as he talks about this ridiculous game. Heretracts his arm slightly, his hand squeezing the back of my neck. My eyes close.
“Cruz. Cruz.” He shakes me and I snap out of my haze.
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”
“So, I think you should?—”
“No, you,” I say quickly, standing up straight and backing away from his hold. “You go. I trust you.”
His lips form a crooked grin. “Okay,” he replies, dragging out the word in a sing-songy voice. “But if I miss, you can’t hold it over my head.”
I think I smile at him, but my heart is thumping and my body feels hot, and I’m aware of everyone around me. I wouldn't be able to make this shot. Not with my body vibrating the way it is. I need to leave this party and stop dreaming about Adrian Kennedy.
Suddenly, the room erupts, and I’m once again yanked from my daydream. Adrian comes at me, his huge football player frame looking like he’s about to tackle me to the floor. Which might be fun, if we were alone—and naked. But he doesn’t do that. He lifts me from my feet, jostling me up and down his body as he bounces with excitement.
“We won!” he yells, halfway to being drunk.
“We did?”
I missed the rest of the game while stuck in my head.