Levi throws a bill on top of Natalie’s, then holds his wallet open as he asks Rylie, “You want in?”
“I know less about basketball than I do about football,” she tells him.
“It’s simple,” Levi says. He points at the money on the table. “Everyone picks a team to follow through the tournament. After each game, Gray updates the wins with his spreadsheet magic—”
“It’s basic Excel—”
“Super fancy mystical spreadsheet magic,” Levi corrects. “When your team loses, you’re out. I say ‘when’ because your team will lose, since Gray always wins.”
Morris adds, “Basically, you’re paying for the privilege of Gray beating you.”
“But also for the slim chance you might win.” Levi pinches his fingers together.
“And sweet, sweet bragging rights,” Natalie chimes in.
Grayson shrugs.
“Sound fun?” Levi turns to Rylie, who nods with a big smile. He kisses her nose. “That’s my girl.”
When Levi adds her buy-in to the growing pile, Gray shuffles the money together. Then he turns to me, “You in, Kennedy?”
“I don’t have cash on me,” I pat my dress. I’d left my purse in the car, only bringing in a small clutch with my phone, keys, and credit card.
“You owe me then.”
“Owe you what?” Spencer asks, sitting in the seat beside Gray.
My heart jumps in my throat at the sight of him. He spreads out on his side of the table, drinking from a tall glass stein of amber liquid. It’s already two-thirds empty. When I check the time on my phone, I realize it’s only been thirty minutes since we were in the car. I guess he hadn’t been joking about getting wasted tonight.
Grayson explains what we’d just been talking about, and Spencer glares down at the money in his roommate’s hands. Then he drops a crumpled twenty from his pocket in front of Gray, muttering under his breath, “Fucking shark.”
“We think he rigs it,” Levi says to Rylie and me.
“If any of you morons paid attention to anything other than football, maybe you’d stand a chance against me,” Gray says. With a smug grin, he folds the cash and pockets it. “Maybe.”
Levi holds up a finger in question. “Gray, in a bracket of all the superhero movies to ever be made, which do you think is best?”
“Now, that’s cause for debate,” Gray mumbles, sitting back and stroking his chin. “Breaking down by license and studios, and then between live action or animated, not to mention gross box office revenue—”
“Because hands down, I think it’s Green Lantern. Ryan Reynolds, man, he’s a hunk.” Levi turns to Rylie, who smothers her laugh with a hand. “Don’t you think?”
“So hunky,” she snorts. “But let’s not forget my favorite.”
“What’s that?”
“Catwoman.”
“Of course, I should have known,” Levi snaps his fingers. Then, with a lewd glance up and down her body, he says, “You know, you’d look really good in leather.”
“I hate you guys,” Gray says, though there’s no heat to his words. He slides his beer down the table and stands up, lightly punching Spencer’s shoulder. “Switch.”
Without a word or complaint, Spencer drops into the seat Gray abandons. Pretending not to pay attention, I study him from the corner of my eye. His face is freshly washed, but I spot it. A thin red lipstick stain just under his ear. Proof of me, on him.
Heat from his leg radiates close to mine, and I curl my hand into my lap as I wait for it. For him to trap my foot between his. To slide his hand over my thigh under the table. Lean closer to me, though not close enough for anyone else to notice. To give me the signal to meet in our usual spot, in the hallway to the bar restrooms, so we can kiss again. All things he’d started doing the past few weeks.
But none of that comes. Spencer pointedly refuses to look in my direction. Holds his body away from mine.
“Spence,” Levi tips his glass against Spencer’s. “When are you out of here? We’re gonna canoodle in your room the moment you leave.”
Spencer levels a glare at him.
“He’s joking,” Rylie assures. “We’re not doing that in your room.”
“We’re not?”
“No,” Rylie says in as stern a voice as she can muster when Levi’s smile coaxes one of her own. To Spencer, she says, “We’re hitting the road first thing in the morning, anyway.”
Rylie and Levi will be splitting the next week between both their parents’ homes, since their families are pretty local. Natalie’s spending the week with her grandmother, and she’s promised to return with enough baked treats to fill our entire fridge.
“My flight’s tomorrow afternoon,” Spencer tells them.
“Where are you going?” Rylie asks.
I perk up. Though I’m flying out tomorrow, too, this is the first I’ve heard about Spencer having plans.
“Same place he goes every year,” Levi tells her. “South Beach. Land of bikinis and babes and booze until you drop. I went with him last year—not that I indulged in those vices, since I am a freaking angel—”
Rylie and I both snort, because Levi Hart is more like the mischievous devil kicking the angel off your shoulder and convincing you of all the bad things you should do instead.
Spencer leans across the table to set the record straight. “Stone, your idiot boyfriend had a stripper ask to pay him for a lap dance.”
Rylie places a scandalized hand on her chest, though she can’t hide her smile. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Okay, I didn’t. And I definitely did not earn a hundred bucks from it.” Levi scrunches his nose in what I think might be him trying to mimic Spencer’s glare. “This guy, though, locked me out of our room every night that week.”
“Told you to use the stripper money on another suite.”
“The hotel was fully booked!”
Rylie doubles over in laughter. Levi holds her up, even as he argues with Spencer about their misdeeds the year before. I smile into my cup of water, drinking it as an excuse to stay silent, to observe
