Page 76 of Golden Ruin

He smirks, letting his eyes slip away from mine. “Don’t do this to yourself, Lex. End your night on the high of beating a four-year-old. Let that be enough.”

I laugh when he starts talking shit right back.

“Scared?”

He shoots me another look. “Scared of what?”

“Me whooping your ass.”

He laughs harder now and stands. “Come on. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Smiling for having effectively pressured him into playing me, I follow him into the living room. We sit side-by-side on the couch, and he picks up Jax’s controller as I grab the spare. He loads up the game, I pick the same pink car I’ve been playing with all night, and the countdown begins.

He’s focused through the first lap, and I’m only slightly concerned that he’s in the lead. But then he takes a curve too fast and veers into the grass, slowing him down. I speed past him, and I’m grinning, sensing his frustration as I leave him in the dust. By lap three, I have a healthy lead, and as I cross the finish line, I’m holding in a laugh.

But he sees it, eyeing me in my peripheral vision.

“Real fucking proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

I let the smile break free and nod.

“Run it back,” he insists, and I’m more at ease now, knowing the curves are his weakness. He’s overly confident, takes them too fast, so all I have to do is keep up enough to pass him when he inevitably veers off course.

The second round goes exactly like the first, and this time, I’m beaming, smiling from ear-to-ear as I set the controller aside.

“Anything you want to say?” I ask. “Like, maybe… that I’m better than you?”

“Don’t fucking start,” he chuckles.

“What did I do?”

He turns a little, until he’s facing me, and I bat my lashes at him, playing innocent. “Problem?”

His smile grows. “Go ahead and get it out of your system.”

I stand slowly, feeling all the gloating rising inside me, like foam fizzing inside a soda bottle, ready to be unleashed.

“All I’m saying is… the next time you want to talk shit, make sure you can back it up.”

“Oh, yeah?” he laughs.

I nod. “Definitely. Otherwise, your ass is gonna get humbled. Again.”

He gives me this look, and although he’s being playful, I know from experience it’s time to either run or endure his wrath, so I choose flight over fight.

I turn, thinking I can outrun him because he’s still sitting, but I only manage to take one step before he grips the back of my hoodie in his massive hand and pulls me back to him.

“Sterling!”

I’m laughing so hard I can hardly stay on my feet, so when I turn, trying to gain a bit of leverage, he tugs harder. My body goes limp as I fight for air, and I’m practically dead weight when I land on the sofa, knees planted in the cushion beside his thigh.

His arm is tight around me. I think we both know I’d slide right off if he lets go. But the contact has heat radiating from his body to mine.

Slowly, the laughter dies.

The energy in the room shifts on a dime, and he’s staring as I breathe down on him, too close for this to feel safe. The stillness is killing me, making me hyperaware of everything. How tense his arm suddenly feels, how the playful smirk on his lips starts to fade, how his eyes drop to my mouth.

Mine do the same and, suddenly, this doesn’t feel playful anymore.