Page 26 of Striking Range

“Thanks, Sky. When do you get off?” Kelly asks, stirring her Mermaid Water.

“I close tonight, so—”

“Bartender! I need another!” A patron yells, interrupting whatever Skylar was going to say next.

That he gets off around 2 a.m.; that he’s tired; that he’s irritated. Those are all of my best guesses.

He sighs. “Hold that thought.”

Then Skylar is rushing off to serve the blond at the other end of the bar top, smiling politely as he grabs a fresh glass—his venomous fangs are retracted.

“Poor guy.” Kelly chuckles.

I make an affirmative sound, soaking in the way he moves and the comfort that watching him brings me. I think I could watch him forever. Like my own personal version of The Truman Show, I’d follow his every move.

“So, what really happened in that bathroom, Ev?” Kelly suddenly questions.

I jump in my seat, head whipping in her direction to eye her knowing smirk. “What?!”

She just laughs. “Please, I saw your face before you went in there; you were pressed as hell. Was it because I kissed him? Or because I didn’t kiss you?”

I can’t breathe under her piercing gaze, let alone think of a lie, so I do what I always do: deflect, avoid, run.

What can I truly say to her anyway? That it has nothing to do with her at all, but my own possessiveness when it comes to Skylar, and my resentment over how soft their kiss was? Nah, I’m good.

“Oh, hey,” I start, and even I can hear how shaky the syllables sound as they leave my mouth. “I know those guys; I’ll be back.”

I slip off the stool with my beer in hand, walking away from her laughter as if it’s a toxic substance. I guess I will be making new friends today.

Truthfully, as I said before, I do know these guys. In fact, most of them probably consider me a friend. But we don’t hang out, not like this—I’ve never really cared to.

“No way! Everett?” Caleb, one of the guys from my junior-year economics class, sees me first.

“Sup, man,” I greet him, dabbing him up the way the guys our age tend to.

I acknowledge a few other guys I know, either from classes or baseball, smiling politely at a few girls I do not know and ignoring glares from the ones I do.

They always agree to casual in the beginning, but once they come so hard they cry, they backtrack. And suddenly I’m the devil since I won’t commit.

It’s confusing.

“You never come out with us; what’s the occasion?” Andrew, a friend from baseball who happens to be in my International Business lecture, asks me.

“Just ended up here at the same time, I guess,” I answer.

He nods, grinning at me. “Well, good. We’ve missed you since the season ended, and you’re so boring in class.”

I laugh, mostly because he’s not wrong. I’m usually very attentive in classes; if I don’t excel, Ash gets angry. “My bad, man.”

“No biggie. Here, let me introduce you to Ashley; she’s been asking about you.” Andrew gives me a wink, stepping away before I can stop him.

But not to worry; he returns quickly with a beautiful blonde. Her hair is long enough to reach her hips, and her eyes are a soft brown and rounded, making her resemble a tamed baby doe.

“Hi, I’m Ashley.” She extends her hand for a shake, emphasizing her full breasts to appear even more enticing and seductive.

The first thing I notice when she speaks is that her voice is casual, not high-pitched and squeaky the way plenty of college girls sound when I met them—when they’re trying to seduce me.

Which tells me that she doesn’t feel the need to put on a cute act; she believes she’ll reel me in either way. And, truth be told, she doesn’t need it. Her face and her body speak for themselves, and confidence is so sexy.