Rounding Third - Michelle Lynn Page 0,28

mouth.

I roll my eyes and find Ella staring over at me while the blonde from earlier licks my neck.

“Did you need anything?” I ask Ella.

She narrows her eyes. “No.”

She circles around to leave, but I grab her wrist before she can escape.

If Brax were here, he’d tell me to let her go, but it was instinct. She couldn’t leave yet, not when her eyes were on the verge of anger with a flash of jealousy.

The blonde doesn’t leave, so I slide to the side and take Ella with me.

“Excuse us,” I tell the blonde while her tongue hangs out like a dog after a walk.

“What the hell?” The blonde steps forward. “I had dibs first.”

“No one had dibs before me,” Ella replies.

Damn, I wish I could hold in the smile begging to come out.

“Excuse us,” I repeat before trying to escort us through the people.

“She can’t come in here and steal you away.” The blonde obviously doesn’t take no for an answer.

I ignore her, but Ella turns around, her finger jabbing in the girl’s chest.

“Listen, he was mine well before he was ever yours. And licking someone’s neck does not stake claim on him.”

“How could you pass this up for that?” She looks at Ella like she’s a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe.

I step forward, ready to defend, but Ella puts her hand out to stop me.

“You want to challenge me?”

“Aren’t you Liam’s lame girlfriend?” the blonde sneers.

I hold my breath, hoping that she’s not about to tell Ella that she’s nailed him.

“Yes, but—”

“Then, Third Base is up for grabs.” She pulls my hand, trying to get me to come to her.

I remove her hand.

“Third Base? Try Crosby Lynch. I know your brain is small, but repeat after me. Crosby. Lynch.”

A rupture of laughter leaves my throat before I can compose myself.

“You’re such a bitch. Have him. Lamest baseball player I’ve ever met.” She walks away, pulling her tight-ass skirt a little higher, revealing more than where her legs part.

Ella inhales a deep breath and lets it out in a slow stream. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“I’ve always loved your jealous side,” I comment.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Did you do that on purpose?”

From the look of certainty in her eyes, we both know I did.

“Come on, I’ll make you a drink that you’ll actually consume.” I grab the empty glass out of her hand.

“What are you talking about?” She stops next to me by the hard-alcohol supply.

I grab a flavored vodka and a 7Up.

“Here.” I thrust the drink in her hand.

She slowly dips the glass to her lips. She swallows, and a small smile creases her lips.

“You won’t be dumping this one in someone else’s cup.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the counter, confident of my drink-making skills.

“Stalker.” She portrays she’s mad, but that smile speaks more than her tone.

“Observer,” I counter.

She doesn’t come back with a reply.

“So, what brings you to Kappa?” she asks, placing her drink down and grabbing an empty cup. Glancing at each bottle, she starts pouring alcohol it.

“I’m guessing that.” I point to where Saucey’s thigh is pressed between Jen’s legs, letting her grind against him.

“Yeah, not sure what they are thinking. Like we don’t know they planned this whole thing.” She glances over her shoulder and then focuses back on the drink.

“What the hell are you making?” I ask, sneaking a sip of the drink I made her.

“I’m going to make a drink for you, except I don’t remember you drinking anything but beer.”

She laughs, and I inspect the cup to find one mixed up shit drink.

“Well, try it.” She pushes it my way, and I warily pick up the glass.

I sip and barely swallow the rancid mix. “Um, I love you, but that’s a pass.” I place it down, and she laughs.

“I wish I would have had my phone ready to take a picture of your face.”

“Maybe I should stick to the girlie drinks?” I ask, taking another sip of hers.

She grabs it from my hands. “Mine.” She acts like a toddler.

These are the moments when it’s hard not to touch her. To hug her into my body. Saucey and Jen aren’t making it any easier for me to keep my hands to myself, having to watch them make out like teenagers in a dark movie theater.

“Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” I ask.

Her eyes quickly scan the room for him. “Yeah, I should.” She stays next to me. “He’s probably upstairs, studying, or

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