I hurry over to the arcade game. I shove money into the machine next to Bran and start shooting. It’s pretty easy. Soon, I have my own little crowd of admirers. When Bran pauses to watch me, I make my move.

“Want to make a bet, Mathis?” I ask, casting out the lure.

He bites, just like I knew he would. He’s an athlete, which means he’s got plenty of competitive juice in him. “Sure. What are the stakes?”

“If I win, you buy ride tickets for everyone here. If I lose, I buy them.”

“There are twenty-three of us,” Ella says quietly. “That’s nearly a thousand dollars.”

I didn’t even see her come up beside me. Val and Hartley are back, too, and when I look over, there’s no missing the worry in their eyes. “I know,” I reply. “Pocket change, right?”

The Astor kids nod, but Bran, the son of a teacher and an accountant, isn’t a regular Astor kid. He doesn’t have a trust account and an allowance of thousands of dollars a month.

When he pales underneath his tan, I know I’m right. “Um, sure. I guess.” His pride won’t allow him to back down.

I squeeze his shoulder, because he’s not in any danger of having to pay up. I’m going to lose big. “Awesome.”

Felicity claps her hands in glee. “I want the big panda.” She points to one of the giant stuffed animals that we could probably pick up for five bucks at a place that Felicity would die before stepping foot into. She doesn’t want the panda. She wants what the panda represents in her crazy-ass mind.

Too bad she’s going to be disappointed.

We start shooting. For the first round, I drain as many baskets as I can. I need to make my loss look realistic. Bran, however, isn’t cooperating. The thought of buying all those tickets is getting to him, which is weird because on the football field he’s never ruffled. He starts bricking his shots, and the lead I built up doesn’t go away. Not even after I pretend to go cold.

In the third round, he picks up steam, but it’s too little, too late. When the buzzer goes off, I’m the winner.

Fuck.

“Double or nothing,” I blurt out.

“No, I’m good.” Bran says, but his complexion has taken on a greenish cast.

“I knew you’d win, Easton!” Felicity gushes. “Good breeding always prevails.”

I know Ella’s disappointed, but it’s the disgust in Hartley’s eyes that kills me. Ella will believe my explanation—how I tried to rig it so Bran would win and I’d buy the tickets. But Hartley won’t. She already thinks I’m an asshole.

I swallow hard and pull out my wallet. “It was a dumb bet. I’ll get the tickets.”

“No, man. A bet’s a bet. Gotta be a man of my word.” Gulping visibly, Bran staggers off to go buy the tickets.

Some of our teammates slap him on the back as he passes. “That’s our QB!”

“Shit,” I mutter.

Ella grabs my arm and pulls me aside. “Go stop him,” she pleads.

“I can’t. If I try to buy the tickets, he’ll lose the respect of his teammates.”

“You guys are idiots.” She looks like she wants to slap me. Frankly, I could use a blow to my face.

Bran returns with the tickets and hands them out. I stand off to the side and wait for everyone else to get them first. When Bran reaches me, I renew my offer to pay.

“I’ve played this game so many times with my brothers that I could make these shots with my eyes shut. Let me pay, okay?”

Bran snorts. “So you set me up?”

“Not exactly.” But I don’t sound convincing, because I did set him up, just not in the way that it turned out.

“I guess I thought we were playing on the same team,” he mumbles, “but thanks for showing me your true colors early on. I know what the rules are now.” He slaps a ride card in my hand and then walks off.

“You’re a real jerk.”

I look up to see Hartley approaching me. Her gray eyes look like two storm clouds.

Misery jams in my throat. I swallow hard, then gesture for her to follow me to a spot out of earshot of our classmates. Miraculously, she comes with me.

“It’s not what it looked like,” I tell her, lowering my voice. “I was going to lose so I could pay for the tickets.”

She shakes her head in disgust. “Yeah. Sure, Easton.”

“It’s true.”

“Uh-huh. Then why’d you play the stupid game anyway? Why not just pay for the tickets outright?”

“I wanted Bran to look good in front of Felicity.”

“What?” Hartley’s brow crinkles.

“I thought maybe if she got hot for someone else, she’d forget this stupid idea that she and I are dating.” Jeez. The whole thing sounds ridiculous now that I’m trying to explain it to someone else. “Look, I made a mistake. I didn’t mean for Bran to be out that money.”

Hartley searches my expression for what feels like forever. “You really weren’t trying to be an ass to him, were you?”

I unhappily shake my head. I realize that I’m the male version of Felicity. I won’t leave Hartley alone, even though she keeps demanding it. I’m self-centered. I make other people miserable with my stupid, impulsive decisions.

Actually, that’s not very Felicity like. She’s a cunning planner. I just want to have a good time.

But not at the expense of others.

“Oh, Easton.” There’s a wealth of disappointment in those two words.

“I know.” I straighten my shoulders. “I’m going to fix it.”

“How?”

“I have no idea. You’re my best friend, though. Can you help me out?” I throw her a pleading glance.

She surprises me by moving closer to squeeze my arm. “We’ll figure something out,” she assures me.

And then she proceeds to shock me again—this time by planting a quick kiss on my cheek. Maybe I’m not the male Felicity, after all. Hartley likes me and she’s as decent as they come.

My entire body soars from that one second of physical contact. Down, boy, I order. We’re friends with Hartley and that means no getting excited in inappropriate places.

“Coming?” she asks, a few steps ahead of me.

A perverted comeback pops into my head, but this time my brain beats out my mouth. It’s a close call, though.

Chapter 18

The next day, I’m on damage control. First order of business? Make things right with my quarterback, whose only crime yesterday was being the unwilling pawn in my mission to rid myself of Felicity.

I wait until the locker room clears out before I approach Bran. “Got a sec?”

He scowls at my approach. “What do you want, Royal?”

I offer a rueful smile. “I come with a peace offering.”

“‘That so?” He doesn’t look at me as he shuts the locker door harder than necessary. He’s already dressed for practice and looks impatient to get going.

I glance around to make sure we’re alone, then hold out the ten crisp hundred-dollar bills in my palm.

His green eyes flash. “What the hell?”

“Look, I’m sorry about last night, man. You were right, okay? I was trying to set you up, but not in the way you think.” I try to press the bills into his clenched fist. “Take it.”

He shoves my hand away. “Keep your money, Royal. I’m not a charity case.”

“This isn’t charity. It’s reparations.”

Bran snorts.

“I’m serious. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you or dis you about not being loaded like the rest of us.”

“No?” His voice is tight. “Then what were you trying to do?”

I heave out a sigh. “I was hoping you’d shoot the hell out of those targets and get Felicity so hot and bothered that she’d ditch me for you.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Um. What?”

“I made a huge mistake agreeing to go out with that girl,” I admit. “She was on my case at the carnival, and I figured, hell, maybe I could get her off my back and onto your dick. Win-win.”