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"I'm sorry, Jake."
He smiled at me, but it was sad. "No, I'm sorry." He said as he sank the final ball. "Sorry for kicking your butt!"
"You did not! We're tied."
"I did, and it was a massacre."
"Whatever."
We put our clubs away and walked out to the parking lot.
"This was fun. Thanks for convincing me to do this," Jake said as we walked out to his car.
"See, you should listen to me. I know things." I teased.
He arched his brow and pulled me against him. "Yeah, I'm sure you do," he said, his voice husky and his lips dangerously close.
My pulse thudded in my veins and the blood rushed through my ears.
"Do you want to come over for a drink?"
"Sure," I replied, swallowing past the dryness in my throat.
He smiled, and leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. It was soft and tender. Teenagers from our school hooped and hollered like some fake studio-audience track. Jake let me go and opened the car door for me. I slid into the passenger seat. We rode back to his house in silence.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'll get us some wine," he said as soon as we walked into his living room. I sat down on the couch and waited for him to return. A minute later, he came back holding two glasses.
"Hailey must have gotten on well with Mary if she's spending the night two weeks in a row."
He nodded, taking a sip. "Yes, I'm glad. She's always struggled a bit in the friend department."
"I don't understand that," I said honestly, feeling for poor Hailey. She was so sweet and had so much to offer. But young girls could be cruel.
"Well, kids can be shitty. " He took a long drink of his wine.
"True," I said. No one knew that more than teachers. I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees and looked around his living room. It was sparse, with a few framed pictures and a bookshelf full of books.
"Did you ever consider moving out of your parents' house?" I asked, glancing at the stairs, thinking about the last time we were alone like this.
He shook his head and set his glass down. "No, I like it here too much."
"That's cool," I said. "I mean the only reason I left my hometown was because I set fire to my ex-fiancé’s great-aunt's wig and burned down the tent we rented for our ceremony."
"You're joking."
"Nope, it's true. She looked like a flaming Q-tip."
He nearly choked on his wine, covering his mouth as he laughed. "Oh, my god. I don't know what to say. But I'm not surprised."
"Hey!" I tossed a pillow at him, and he ducked.
"Sorry, not sorry."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "Whatever."
"So, is that why it didn't work out? Because you set his aunt on fire?"
"Great-aunt,” I corrected. “She’d be like 100 by now if she’s still kicking. And no, the fire happened as part of my retaliation for discovering he had been cheating on me with my maid of honor. Let's just say, flaming torches should not be allowed near me when I've been drinking."
