Bayleigh waved, looking disappointed too, and Patrick gave him an apologetic nod.
“Guess it’s just us, then,” Tyler said with a smile I might venture to call thrilled, that traitor. “Come on, let’s go get shoes.”
I stood and followed him again to the shoe window, where a guy — who was probably twenty-five and had the most epic ironic mullet I’d ever seen — gave us our shoes, passing over Tyler’s canoes and my matchboxes. I tried not to listen to Bayleigh and Martin talking behind us, because every word and every laugh soured my mood even more.
By the time we were back, Patrick had figured out the console, and I stood on a bench in the middle to get everyone’s attention.
“All right, guys. Choose your names wisely! I’m giving you all themes, and the player with the most creative name gets a free drink on Rose.”
Everyone cheered, and Rose made a face, which wasn’t unexpected, since I hadn’t told her. I smiled sweetly at her, and she made a throat-cut motion with her hand.
“Lane 5 — you’re romance hero tropes. Lane 6 — make up your own superheroes.” They cheered. “Lane 7 — you’re the villains.” They booed. “And Lane 8 — make up your own book titles.” Everyone laughed, and I smiled down at them. “Have fun, everybody!”
I hopped off the bench and made my way back over to our group. Tyler, Patrick, and Rose were chatting with beers in their hands, Rose tucked under Patrick’s arm. Bayleigh and Martin were off searching the racks of balls. And I was doing my best not to be salty.
I did my best to smile, wishing Greg hadn’t gone all the way to the other end of the group, literally as far away as he could get. I didn’t blame him, even though I knew he didn’t really have hard feelings about Patrick and Rose. It’s not even like they’d really dated-dated, just hung out a couple of times and kissed a little, but I think it was just weird for all of them to hang out together like this, Bayleigh or not.
I made my way over to her, stepping shamelessly between her and Martin. “Let’s grab a twelve, a ten, and a couple of nines for the girls.”
“I use a nine,” Martin said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
I chuckled. “I bet you do, buddy.” The words left my mouth a little sharper than I’d intended, and I took a breath.
Bayleigh laughed nervously and took one of the nines to the group. Martin and I followed.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry to crash your party like this. Tyler invited me, but I didn’t realize it was just a work thing, or whatever.”
I shrugged, keeping my eyes ahead of me. “It’s cool.”
He watched me. “Are you sure? I just kind of feel like … I don’t know. Like I intruded, or something.”
I smiled, though it was tight. “It’s cool, really. Any friend of Tyler’s, you know?”
I walked up to the ball return and set the balls down, turning to Tyler, trying not to feel guilty about the look on Martin’s face that said he didn’t believe me.
Rose waved me over to the console. “Come on, put your name in.”
We were the romance hero trope team, and so far our names were:
Billionaire Bastard
Alpha Hammerhead
Manwhore Ladykiller
Professor Broodydick
Rocker Cock
I laughed. “Dammit, these are good.”
“Yeah, well, drinks on me are on the line, so …” Rose said with a shrug and took a sip of her whiskey.
“Hmm,” I thought, and then I lit up as I typed Slutty Stepbrother. “Boom.”
Rose laughed, and I curtsied before making my way back to Tyler, who stood alone near the entrance to our lane.
I looked up at him, still a little hurt at his disappointment, but I didn’t want to talk about it. So I didn’t, just slipped my arms around his waist. He rested his arm on my shoulder and squeezed, and I knew from that simple gesture alone that he wasn’t mad, disagreement or not. My gaze found Bayleigh again, who leaned into Martin, smiling, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the whole night was going to be a disaster. All the work I’d put into Bayleigh and Greg, weeks of plotting, all to be undone by a skinny accountant in a bow tie.
It was like the universe was mocking me.
“What name did you pick?” I asked Tyler, breaking the silence.
“Manwhore Ladykiller.”
I snickered. “I should have guessed. That one’s my favorite.”
“Slutty Stepbrother? Is that really a thing in romance?”
“You have no idea,” I said with a smile.
He reached for the drink ledge and grabbed the neck of a bottle there. “I got you a beer.”
I took it gratefully. “Thanks.”
“You okay?”
I nodded and took a sip, watching Bayleigh line herself up, trying not to notice that Martin watched her too, looking like he’d found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. She took her steps, swinging the ball back and letting it go — it rolled down the lane at a solid speed and killed six pins. She turned around and jumped up and down, giggling straight at Martin.
I sighed.
“You sure?” he asked.
I took a deep breath and looked up at him, smiling. “I’m sure. What will be, will be, right?”
He bent to kiss my hair. “That’s right. Now, you’re up, Slutty Stepbrother.”
I chuckled. “Prepare to taste my pain, Ladykiller.” I set down my beer and headed over to the ball return, picking up a nine-pound ball that looked like a galaxy — it was a deep blue, swirled with sparkles like stars.