Felicity claps her hands. “Yes! Come on, Easton. You can win me something to make up for not paying my admission.” She loops her hand around my elbow and tugs me toward the games.
“How about you?” Bran says to Hartley. “Should I win you something?”
“Oh no. I don’t need anything,” she protests.
Damn right. If anyone is going to win Hartley a prize, it’s me. She’s my friend.
“How about we win our own prizes,” Ella suggests dryly.
As Felicity and the other girls chorus their dismay, Hartley gives a thumbs-up. She, Ella, and Val separate from the group, wandering off toward a booth where some jackass is offering to guess everyone’s weight. Kinda rude, if you ask me.
I try to follow them, but Felicity grabs my arm again.
“I’m getting real tired of that.” I stare pointedly at her hand.
“Of what?”
Gently, but firmly, I extract myself from her grip. “How far are you going to take this?”
She plants her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I stifle a shout of frustration. “Felicity. Listen to me. I was drunk when I agreed to your proposition. I didn’t even remember seeing you when I woke up the next morning.”
“Well, you did see me, and you said you’d be my boyfriend, so tough cookies, Easton Royal. This is happening.”
“Look, you’re a nice girl,” I choke on the lie. “You don’t want me as your boyfriend, fake or otherwise, okay? I’m a terrible person, and on top of that, I’m pretty damn lazy. You need to find someone else to hitch your wagon to.”
Her hands slide up from her hips to cross tightly across her rack. Huh. I never noticed her chest before. Probably because I never cared enough to check her out.
“No,” she says.
“No?”
“No. I’ve already announced we’re a couple and so we’re a couple. I don’t care if you’re rude or insulting. Your bad behavior will only result in sympathy for me.”
Holy mother of God. She’s clearly not right in her head. “I’m not doing this. Period. Like, honestly, I don’t know what else to say or how many other ways to put it. I’m not playing along.”
“Yes, you are.”
I take a few steps away. I’m done with this conversation.
“Because if you don’t,” she adds, “I’m going to make Hartley’s life miserable.”
I stick my tongue in the side of my cheek and pray for a little patience. After all, I did agree to this stupid charade in the first place, even if I don’t have the clearest memory of doing so.
I walk back to her, trying to appeal to her rational side. “Let’s be reasonable. Why don’t you dump me? You can say I cheated on you or that I’m just too stupid to waste your time on or that I’m bad in the sack. Tell whatever lie you want and I’ll back you up.”
“No.”
Arghhhhhhh. I’m seconds away from slamming my fist into the nearest wall. This girl is batshit crazy.
And if she’s going to be an asshole over this, I can be even worse in return. “Try coming after Hartley and you’ll be crying for mercy within a day,” I say tightly.
Instead of being scared off, Felicity gives me a smug smile. “After I’m done with Hartley, I’ll go after Ella.”
I scoff. This again? No way Felicity takes Ella down. Ella already fought and tamed the meanest girl Astor Park Prep has seen—Jordan Carrington. “I’m not interested in the games you want to play, babe. And Ella’s strong enough to stand up to you.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” With the same sick grin plastered to her face, she saunters off to join her friends.
Swallowing a groan, I stick my hands in my pockets and watch my classmates play a bunch of games. Bran’s playing the basketball game and draining shot after shot. There are several girls gathered around him, cheering him on.
Hmmm.
The sight of their obvious adoration for Astor Park’s newest athlete gives me an idea.
If Felicity wants to be on the top of the social chain, then it makes sense for her to hook up with Bran. Despite his lack of money, he’s good looking and, most importantly, he’s our quarterback. Everybody loves a quarterback. Hell, even Hartley thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips. All I need to do is convince Felicity that Bran’s a better catch than me.
And, fine, if Bran getting with Felicity also keeps him away from Hartley, that’s just a silver lining.
I totally don’t have an ulterior motive or anything.
I hurry over to the arcade game. I shove money into the machine next to Bran and start shooting. It’s pretty easy. Soon, I have my own little crowd of admirers. When Bran pauses to watch me, I make my move.
“Want to make a bet, Mathis?” I ask, casting out the lure.
He bites, just like I knew he would. He’s an athlete, which means he’s got plenty of competitive juice in him. “Sure. What are the stakes?”
“If I win, you buy ride tickets for everyone here. If I lose, I buy them.”
“There are twenty-three of us,” Ella says quietly. “That’s nearly a thousand dollars.”
I didn’t even see her come up beside me. Val and Hartley are back, too, and when I look over, there’s no missing the worry in their eyes. “I know,” I reply. “Pocket change, right?”
The Astor kids nod, but Bran, the son of a teacher and an accountant, isn’t a regular Astor kid. He doesn’t have a trust account and an allowance of thousands of dollars a month.
When he pales underneath his tan, I know I’m right. “Um, sure. I guess.” His pride won’t allow him to back down.
I squeeze his shoulder, because he’s not in any danger of having to pay up. I’m going to lose big. “Awesome.”
Felicity claps her hands in glee. “I want the big panda.” She points to one of the giant stuffed animals that we could probably pick up for five bucks at a place that Felicity would die before stepping foot into. She doesn’t want the panda. She wants what the panda represents in her crazy-ass mind.
Too bad she’s going to be disappointed.
We start shooting. For the first round, I drain as many baskets as I can. I need to make my loss look realistic. Bran, however, isn’t cooperating. The thought of buying all those tickets is getting to him, which is weird because on the football field he’s never ruffled. He starts bricking his shots, and the lead I built up doesn’t go away. Not even after I pretend to go cold.
In the third round, he picks up steam, but it’s too little, too late. When the buzzer goes off, I’m the winner.
Fuck.
“Double or nothing,” I blurt out.
“No, I’m good.” Bran says, but his complexion has taken on a greenish cast.
“I knew you’d win, Easton!” Felicity gushes. “Good breeding always prevails.”
I know Ella’s disappointed, but it’s the disgust in Hartley’s eyes that kills me. Ella will believe my explanation—how I tried to rig it so Bran would win and I’d buy the tickets. But Hartley won’t. She already thinks I’m an asshole.
I swallow hard and pull out my wallet. “It was a dumb bet. I’ll get the tickets.”
“No, man. A bet’s a bet. Gotta be a man of my word.” Gulping visibly, Bran staggers off to go buy the tickets.
Some of our teammates slap him on the back as he passes. “That’s our QB!”
“Shit,” I mutter.