Page 18 of Scoring Lessons

She stopped stirring her drink for a beat or two. “Because sparring with you doesn’t make me nervous.”

My pulse spiked with exhilaration.

Why did I enjoy that answer so much?

“Should I be offended or flattered?”

“Neither.” A smirk played on her lips. “You’re…familiar.”

“Familiar,” I echoed, not sure if I liked how a sudden warmth spread throughout my chest. I liked knowing she felt comfortable around me, even though we were at each other’s throats every chance we got. “You mean annoying.”

She waved her hand in the air. “Same difference.”

I tried my damn hardest to fight off the smile that hooked on the corners of my mouth. “Interesting.”

Her gaze settled on my throat as I swallowed. The tension between us heightened, like we were teetering on the edge of something new. A brand new territory I’d been made aware of by the way her eyes gleamed with newfound curiosity.

I couldn’t even deny it—because I was sure my eyes showed her the same.

Aly stalked over and slapped my credit card against the table of the bar, pulling us out of whatever trance we were sucked into. “It’s supposed to be last call, but I’m tired and not making another damn drink.”

I tucked the card into my wallet with a low chuckle. “Always a pleasure doing business with you.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to Olivia. “You’re Anderson’s sister, right?”

Olivia nodded.

Aly tapped the bar twice with her knuckles. “Cool. I’m Alyssa, but everyone calls me Aly. If Hayes ever annoys you—which he will—let me know. I’d love to punch him.”

Olivia let out a laugh—low and raspy, soft around the edges like velvet. Shivers ran down my spine at the sound. I’d forgotten how lovely her true laugh was. But this was already shaping to be one of the weirdest—but best—nights I’d had in a while.

“I think I can handle him. I’ve had years of practice.” She sized Aly up with her gaze with a tentative nod. “But I like you. You’re my kind of person.” She rose, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Aly smiled at her then settled her eyes on me with a cross of her arms, her expression turning serious. “Make sure she gets home safe. And don’t be weird about it.”

I arched an eyebrow. “For your information, she’s my roommate. Also, I’m a perfect gentleman.”

“He wouldn’t dare. He knows I’d break his fingers if he ever tried anything,” Olivia said over her shoulder as she pushed the door open.

I stared at the exit where she’d disappeared, half amused, half exasperated. I’d missed this Olivia. The one who made everything sound resolute.

But what I liked the most was how she made my chest lighter, my head clearer, like every thought that tried to drag me down was nowhere to be found whenever she was around.

“Everyone who says deep-dish pizza is Chicago’s specialty can go fuck themselves,” Olivia commented, mouth full of a tavern-style thin-crust meat lover’s.

I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of water, watching her tear through another slice.

Out of all the ways I thought tonight might go, this hadn’t been on the list. But I couldn’t complain too much. Her company was oddly fitting.

“If you had to choose,”—I gestured to the spread of different kinds of pizzas between us—“New York’s one-dollar slice, or Chicago’s thin crust?”

She kept chewing, and the way her eyes narrowed like she was deep in thought was ridiculously endearing. “Nothing beats that one-dollar pizza. Sorry.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re lucky this place doesn’t kick people out for blasphemy.”

She smirked and stole another slice from my tray. When she finished it, she grabbed her water bottle and downed half of it in seconds. “It’s one dollar. Nothing can beat that.”

“What a shame,” I sighed. “A disgrace!”