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Thirty-Three
Sage
I sling backthe second margarita, my eyes glancing about for the prey I’m looking for. There’s a guy in the corner, a redhead who has an Ed Sheeran vibe if I squint a little bit. But a brunette comes slinking up to him and kisses his cheek. Dammit. Taken.
I peruse the dance floor, looking for a lonely guy on the outskirts. I come up blank. I see a blond at the bar wink at me, but he’s wearing an outfit that screams country and also not my type. His boyish face says he’s a boy who plays for keeps, not just to play. Been there done that. I need something else tonight.
I sashay around the Marooned Pirate wearing my sexiest dress, desperately needing to get back on my game. I need a good lay to get Cash Creed off the mind. I need to go back to the Sage Everling I was at the beginning of summer, before he ruined my whole game. I need to go back to the love him and leave him mentality that has served me well all these years.
But that’s the thing about opening your heart up. It’s hard to close it back up again.
I find a corner booth, and a few men come over and offer to buy me a drink. One is too short and one is too arrogant and one is just not my type. None of them stir any sort of attraction in me, not even the one-night kind of attraction. I sit in the booth, sucking down another margarita, realizing it’s all for naught. I’m ruined. I’m destroyed. I’m never going to play well again.
Because, as I finish my final drink and head out of the bar, I realize the hard truth.
I can’t play the game because none of them will be Cash. I’ll never find another one like him. And beneath my player’s heart, the truth rings.
I don’t want to play the game anymore unless it’s with him.
A woman on a mission—and I don’t back down from a mission—I stomp towards the curb, order an Uber, and realize what I have to do.
It’s not too late. I can still play—and win. I can win this game after all.
