“Shut up, asshole,” I grumble. “I can’t believe she’s here. It’s like Fate is fucking taunting me.”
“You know, you could always just go talk to her?” He points in the direction they went. “She’s literally sitting right over there.”
“Because being rejected a second time in one day is such a great idea.” I tap my finger against my chin. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”
Ross waves his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. “It’s not that bad. Like I said before. There are plenty of women out there who would kill to go on one date with you. Why are you losing your shit over one you barely even know?”
“I don’t know, man. That’s the part I can’t figure out.” I gaze in the direction they went. “There’s just something about her. She’s not like any other woman I’ve met before. She also isn’t afraid to call me on my shit. I think that might be one of the biggest things.”
“You mean that’s all we have to do during practice? Tell you to stop fucking up, and you’ll lose your ego?” He’s smiling, and that’s the only sign he’s joking. The bartender finally comes to our side, and before she can say anything he says, “Hey, Honey, can we get another round?” She nods, and he adds, pointing at me, “Make his, a double. He needs it.”
If he keeps plying me with alcohol, I’ll be lucky to make it to the airport on time in the morning. Changing the subject, I point to the television screen, “Back to what I was saying earlier, we have to watch their defense. They stick to you like glue with man on man.”
“That wasn’t smooth at all, but I’ll allow it.”
I’m going to sit right here, get drunk, and act like she’s not in the room. It’s all I can do at this point. Luckily, I have Ross to keep me distracted.
Twelve
Jolene
If Lana wantedthe ambience of a hotel bar, we could have gone downstairs to the one at the hotel we’re staying in. I don’t trust her intentions. She’s been pushing Bentley on me since the first day I met him and I have a feeling she has some ulterior motives behind all this.
Her eyes are wandering through the bar, not looking for anything in particular, but taking in the vibe. Maybe she really does like this place. It’s not somewhere I’d normally venture. I tend to hit the small venues. She somehow finds a way to hang out with the upper echelon when we’re in new locations. I tap her arm until her eyes meet mine. “Why are we really here?”
She looks away, no longer interested in making eye contact. Busted. She’s never had a problem calling me on my crap, and I’m not going to make things easy for her now. “What do you mean? I already told you why I decided this was a good place.”
“I know that,” I roll my eyes. “But tell me, to my face, that it had nothing to do with a certain basketball player. Because I know for a fact that this very hotel is the one he’s staying in.”
She stares at her hands and mumbles, “It has nothing to do with Bentley.”
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.” She’s such a liar.
She grabs her drink, placing the straw between her bright red lips, and takes a long pull. I know the action for what it is, her stalling mechanism. She does it every time we drink together, and she doesn’t want to answer a question. “Okay, fine,” she sets the glass on the table. “I know the team is staying here. I overhead one of the super tall guys mention it in the first-class cabin yesterday.” She points her finger at me for the second time today. She’s making a habit of that, and I’m not sure that I like it. “But you need to get over your trust issues and give him a chance. I figured if we came here, there might be a chance we’d see him in passing.”
“And what? You thought I’d fall into his arms?” It’s ridiculous she’d even consider that. “You watch too many movies. Shit like that doesn’t happen in real life.”
“You never know it might,” she argues and takes another drink. “If you’d just date the guy, I wouldn’t have to come up with outlandish ways to get the two of you in the same room. It’s tiring, honestly.” She throws her hands up in the air, not at all amused by the way I’ve handled things with Bentley.
“I told you earlier that I can’t date him. Why do you keep pushing it?” A guy at a table catty corner is eying us. Were we talking too loud? He doesn’t look annoyed, but his attention skeeves me out.
“It’s not that you can’t. You won’t. There’s a difference.” She grabs her glass but doesn’t take a drink. “And I’m pushing it because I need you to be happy. There’s no point in you moping around like you just lost your best friend. You know? Because I’m right here. If shit ends badly, I’m always going to be here to help pick you up.”
“You’re also the one pushing me into something I’m not sure I want. That also makes you a bad choice maker. Best intentions or not.”
“I’ll gladly wear that title,” she grins. “My terrible choices have led to some fun times. You can’t deny that.” She’s not lying. Some of my favorite memories include her leading the way into some horrible idea. It was fun, though. I wish I could be more like her. Throw all caution to the wind and not worry about making an ass of myself.
The man staring at us earlier leaves his table and strides to our table. Even from here I can see his predatory gaze. Warning bells go off in my head, but I don’t say anything to Lana. I’m the queen of avoiding confrontation and she’ll know how to handle this. She’s had far more expertise in this area than I have. He pulls a chair from the table beside us and slides it to the end of ours. He plops into it and rests his arms on the table, leaning toward us. “How are you ladies doing tonight?”
My mouth hangs wide open at the audacity of this man. He has zero tact, and his presence makes me uncomfortable. Lana doesn’t skip a beat, though. She eyes him warily before pasting a smile on her face. “We’re just fine.” Her voice drips with honey and sarcasm. I’ve always wondered how she does that. She’s condescending, and this moron doesn’t even realize it.
“Any chance I can buy you ladies a drink?” His gaze shoots to me, and my insides recoil.
“We’re perfectly capable of buying our own drinks, thanks.” Lana replies and nods her head toward the bar. I guess that means she wants me to go get the bartender, or at least, someone to help us. She speaks again to get his attention off of me. “We’d much rather be alone, though. We’re having a girl’s night.”
“That’s nice,” he smirks. “But don’t those usually mean you’re at home in your pajamas and putting crap on your face?”
“Sometimes. But not tonight.” Her voice is louder, hoping to attract anyone’s attention. My eyes rove around the room, but it’s not as busy as it was when we walked in. Almost all the patrons on this side of the room are gone, leaving us on our own.