CHAPTER 12
DYLAN
The atmosphere in the club has changed. I feel it like a live wire, buzzing between us, humming under my skin. The tension between me and this incredibly attractive man is thick, electric—like it’s only a matter of time before one of us takes the plunge.
We’re still bantering, pushing, testing, but the pull between us? Undeniable.
I refuse to let him rattle me. So instead, I tilt my head, smirking. “So, what’s your deal? You just collect women like trophies, or do you actually have a personality?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re awfully mouthy for someone who hasn’t even beaten me at anything yet.”
I raise a brow. “Oh? You think you could beat me at something?”
His smirk deepens, his eyes glinting. “I don’t think—I know.” Then, he shifts his stance, something playful but deliberate in his posture. “Alright, let’s see if you’re all talk or if you’ve actually got some game.”
I cross my arms, intrigued. “Game?”
He gestures toward a high-top beside the bar. He places a coin in the middle of the table, ready to be flicked across the surface. “Coin rugby. First to three goals wins. You in?”
I scoff, unimpressed but definitely interested. “That’s it? Childhood nostalgia instead of actual skill?”
He raises a brow. “What, scared I’ll smoke you?”
I snort, already pulling up a barstool. “Please. I haven’t played this since school. They put me up a grade in math, and the only available class was for kids who weren’t great at math, so we spent the whole time playing coin rugby instead of learning quadratic equations. I was a champion. Don’t underestimate me.”
He laughs, low and rich, as he sits across from me. “I have a feeling it would be foolish to underestimate you.”
I roll the coin between my fingers. “And what do I get if I win?”
He leans in, his voice smooth as silk. “Anything you want.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Anything, huh? What’s the catch?”
His grin sharpens. “No catch. I’m just confident you won’t win.”
I take a slow step forward, challenging him. “And seeing you’re wrong,whenI win, what will you owe me?”
His eyes flick over me, amusement curling at his lips. “I think you’ll find out.”
Filthy thoughts run through my head as I gaze at his muscular physique and the gorgeous tattoos that wrap around his sculpted biceps. Heat licks at my spine, but I smother it quickly. “You’re on, Pretty Boy.”
The rules are simple. Each turn starts with three controlled pushes to maneuver the coin just over the edge of the table. Once it’s hanging over, you have to flick it back to yourself and catch it cleanly. Only then can you take your shot, flicking the cointhrough the goalposts which are formed by the other person’s fingers.
“Losers first,” I say, nudging the coin toward him.
He shakes his head and chuckles, but takes the coin.
He takes the first push, guiding the coin expertly toward the edge of the table.
One.
Two.
Three.
It juts over perfectly, and he flicks it back to himself, catching it with ease. He lines up his shot, aims, and sends the coin sailing cleanly through my goalposts. “One-nil, baby.”
I roll my shoulders. “Not bad. But watch and learn.”