Each D-Bag had ten contest winners on his coed team. The team was then subdivided into a team of five that would play against another team of five. Plastered on a wall nearby was a complex bracket system that would eventually tell us which “Bag has the largest D.” There was even an ostentatious D-shaped trophy for the winning team captain to take home. But the scoring process was more complicated than any statistics assignment I’d ever had at school, and I couldn’t figure out how it all worked. All I knew was that even though Kellan and I were on the same team, he insisted on trying to distract me so much that I botched almost every shot.
During the dart game, Kellan would reach over and pinch the back of my thigh right as I was about to shoot. I missed the board three times in a row. One time when he did it, I’d been concentrating so hard on hitting the target—any target—that I hadn’t noticed him behind me. Right as I was getting ready to throw, he nonchalantly ran his hand around my hip and into my front pocket. It scared the shit out of me. I twisted as I tossed, and flung the dart into a clump of pool players. It hit Griffin in the ass. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we were playing electronic darts, and Griffin wasn’t injured. He did retaliate, though, by flicking a blue cue chalk at Matt, whom he’d incorrectly assumed had tagged him.
Kellan laughed so hard he had to step away from the game. A crowd of girls hovered around him like cats circling an open can of tuna. But again, the people around didn’t seem to think it was weird that Kellan flirted so much with me. Probably because they all shamelessly flirted with him. It was like Pete’s on crack. Kellan spent most of his nonplaying time swatting touchy-feely palms away, and politely redirecting wandering fingers. Even I had to admit, it was pretty amusing.
When our group switched over to the pool tables, the team’s rankings were: Griffin’s team, Evan’s team, Matt’s team, and then Kellan’s team. I wasn’t surprised that we were dead last. Nobody on our team was focusing very well, except maybe the three male contest winners. Although, even those guys found it hard to shoot pool with so many flirtatious girls around.
While two of the men on our losing team hit on a tall redhead who clearly only had eyes for Kellan, I leaned over to him and whispered, “Twenty bucks says I sink more shots than you.”
Kellan scoffed at me. “Forty bucks says you just lost twenty bucks.” I laughed at his remark and stuck my hand out to shake his. Kellan’s lip curled into a smile that sent my heart soaring. “No, let’s make this interesting. If I win, we have sex backstage tonight. If you win, we have sex backstage tonight.”
I wanted to laugh again, but the way he said sex froze my brain for a second. “Um . . . I don’t think you understand how betting works.”
Moving in close to me, he breathed his response into my ear while he rested his hand on my stomach. “Don’t I?”
“Okay,” I muttered, wanting him to slide his hand down a little. “Deal.” I had no idea where we’d find privacy in the circus that was the backstage area, but I didn’t really care at that moment.
Kellan and I both proceeded to miss shot after shot after shot. I was beginning to wonder what the rules of our bet were if we tied with zero, when the sun shone down upon Kellan and he finally sank a ball in a pocket. He seemed just as surprised as me. Throwing his fist in the air, he shouted, “Yes!”
Since our team was still dead last, everyone around looked at him like he was slightly off-kilter. Kellan didn’t care, though. Grinning like a little boy, he started playing his pool cue like it was a guitar. I rolled my eyes, but the girls watching him flew into a giggling fit.
While they fawned over how adorable he was, he told me, “I win.” I knew I’d probably have one more chance to sink a ball, and I also knew the odds of me doing that were pretty slim. And I also knew that it didn’t really matter who won this game—we were having sex backstage tonight.
As for who won the D-Bag cup, that honor eventually went to Evan. It was an upset heard around the pool hall. Mainly because Griffin let out a Braveheart-worthy yell of defeat when his team lost by four points. Who knew a kitschy plastic trophy was such a point of pride?
Evan proudly displayed his giant “D” on his lap the entire ride back to the radio station. By the time we all headed out to the venue, Griffin was so bent out of shape, he wouldn’t even look at Evan anymore. “You cheated,” he muttered.
“How could I possibly cheat?” Evan countered.
Sniffing, Griffin murmured. “I don’t know, but you definitely cheated.”
“If you mean I cheated by being better than you, than yes, I totally cheated.”
Kellan chuckled at his band mates while Griffin scowled at Evan. As the conversations shifted to less combative topics, Kellan looked over at me with pure, undiluted desire in his eyes. “I’m really looking forward to the show tonight. I can hardly wait.”
I felt my cheeks heating as his innuendo hit me full force. Wanting to match his playfulness, I murmured, “Yeah, I know. I think it’s going to be a real rager.” Oh my God, did I just say that out loud?
Kellan’s eyes widened, along with his smile. “I think I’ll be drenched by the time I’m done.”