“Alright.” I nod.

Georgia looks confused. “Alright what?”

“Let’s do it over again.” I have to know what would change if we had a redo, because the truth is…

I like Georgia.

“Like—go back right now?”

I pull my left hand from my pocket and check the gold watch—a family heirloom—encircling my wrist for the time.

“It’s still early.”

Her brows shoot up. “You want to go back and…role-play?”

I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

She bites her lower lip, thinking. We both know if she truly wants to make this right, she has to walk back to the rugby house with me tonight and do it all over again.

“Sans your bitchy friends from the track team, of course.” I smirk. “You game?”

Her spine straightens. “Lead the way.”

Seven

Georgia

This time when I spot Ashley in the living room of the party house, I have a chance to really study him, in no hurry to rush over and pantomime my way through this charade he’s asked me to play.

Still a giant mountain of a guy, he engulfs the bulk of the space surrounding him with a commanding presence I didn’t have the peace of mind to notice the first time we met.

A plastic beer cup has materialized as if by magic, suspended halfway to his lips.

Ashley’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he’s grinning at something another guy is saying, and I catch sight of the gap between his front teeth I’d forgotten was there.

His dark, shaggy hair could still use a trim, but it’s endearing just the same, having been kissed by the sun. Makes him look younger, more approachable, although he still needs to shave.

The bruises from the last party have long faded, replaced by fresh ones; he must have had a game recently, and I briefly wonder if our team won.

His team.

Ashley is very popular. Our peers are gathered around him, everyone seeming to want his attention.

I don’t know if it’s the British accent people love or the rugged, rogue-like appearance. Maybe how big and bearlike he is.

Mustering up my courage is a challenge; putting one foot in front of the other to approach him again somehow feels harder than the first time because I don’t have a clue what I’m going to say.

The last time I had a game plan.

Get in, get out, get on with it.

This time, I have to be myself. I have to be honest. I have to…

What do I want from him? How would I have reacted to him if I’d met him the normal way, heard him speak, seen the gap between his teeth?

Would I have flirted? Been shy?

Would he have given me the butterflies I’m feeling now, from nerves?

My palms are sweaty.

My heart is beating wildly enough that I feel it in my throat.

As I approach, he lifts his head, gazing in my direction, small smile bending the corners of his mouth.

White teeth peeking from behind his lips.

He’s…

Cute.

Really cute, and how am I just now noticing?

Dummy, you noticed the second you met him. You just wouldn’t admit it.

I don’t have time for a relationship—I’m here to work.

Get in, get out, move on with my life.

I don’t belong at this school any more than Ashley Dryden-Jones does, and it’s beginning to show.

Our eyes meet.

One of his brows goes up.

He’s teasing me, the wretch—ugh!

I tilt my chin and smile. The beer I swiped off the bar top (that was obviously poured for someone else) meets my lips and I swallow, relishing the cold liquid courage and wishing it would work its way through my system sooner.

Another sip.

Another step.

His friend Stewart is nowhere in sight, nor is Allie or her best friend, and my body relaxes with relief. Phew—I do not need to be dealing with them on top of him tonight. This is stressful enough.

“Hey,” I say by way of greeting. Groan inwardly because it sounds sophomoric and lame.

He thinks so too, rolling his eyes. “Hi.”

Is that the best you’ve got? His face says it all.

Dammit!

Yes, that is all I have.

The group around him waits. One of the guys is not-so-subtly checking me out, and maybe it’s my imagination but I notice Ash scowling.

It lasts a brief moment, but the expression was there, I’m certain of it.

Well, well, well, if this isn’t an interesting development.

He’d only scowl if…

No.

Stop that, Georgia. He isn’t into you.

How would you know? You ruined it, so even if he did, do you think he’d admit it? Guys hate rejection, and I…

Well, we know what a doozy I committed.

“Who are you?” asks the guy checking me out.

Shorter than Ashley by far, he’s openly studying me with interest. Scarred cheek, missing tooth on the bottom, bloody lip.

Either he got into a fight recently and lost, or he plays a sport.

Hockey maybe?

Rugby?

Seems likely.

“I’m Georgia,” I say.

“Can we get you a drink?” the boy asks, though it’s evident I already have one in my hand. He’s being polite, and I appreciate it. “I’m Tyler.”

“Thank you, I—”

“She doesn’t accept drinks from random strangers.” Ashley interrupts us before I have a chance to reply.

“She doesn’t?” Tyler isn’t the only one who appears baffled. “How do you know? We only just met her.”

So true.

“It’s common sense, and she looks like a girl with loads of it.”

A reasonable explanation and quick-witted. I’m impressed by how fast on his feet he is.

Bravo!

Or wait, don’t they say brilliant in London? Though I’ve never been.

“I’ve got a beer, Tyler, but thank you for asking.” I hold it higher so it’s eye level.

Tyler is pretty cute, and based on our limited interaction, polite.

But I’m not here to flirt with anyone. I’m here to start over on the right foot with Ashley.

A few people wander off, bored with the conversation, and the small gathering around Ashley thins, bodies shifting away until I find myself standing next to my mark.

I hadn’t noticed before, but when he moves, the cotton of his shirt exposes an inked collarbone, a surprise to my wandering eyes.

“Do you have tattoos?” I blurt out.

“Yes.”

“Um…aren’t you going to show me?”

“Show you?” he says. “Ma’am, I don’t even know you.”

That’s right—we’re role-playing, but I suck at it.

“You’re wretched at this.” He laughs. “So horribly bad—it’s like you’re trying to fuck it up.”

Gee, thanks.

“I’m not though!” Pause. “Okay I am bad, but it’s hard just walking up to random guys and being all casual and cool.”

“Fail.”

Tyler—who’s still standing there—watches us.

I clear my throat. “Is that a tat I see on your neck?” Jeez, I’m so redundant.