Chapter 3 #2
“Oh, I can do both,” I say sweetly, taking my place at the line. “It’s called multitasking. You should try it sometime.”
“Impressive,” he muses. “Is that what they’re teaching these days?”
I flash him a smug smile. “Yep. Right after we master sarcasm and humbling cocky men.”
That gets me a laugh from the group. Kane just stands there, unshaken, like he enjoys the challenge.
I grit my teeth, feeling the competitive fire flare back to life. I can’t tell if it's the drink or just me, but I'm instantly annoyed at how good he is. Annoyed, impressed, and okay, slightly turned on.
Of course they’re not going to just win, they’re going to mop the floor with us. But losing isn’t the problem. It’s losing to him that’s the real issue.
Now, the moment of truth. My turn.
Whichever way you want to look at it, I know I’m about to make a fool of myself. But weirdly enough? I don’t think I care. My only goal is to get the dart somewhere on the board. Anywhere.
I grab my drink and down the rest, hoping it’ll either sharpen my focus or at least soften the blow of embarrassment.
It's just the dart and me. We are ONE.
I take a breath, trying to tune out the music, the chatter, and the low rumble of laughter. I roll my shoulders back, mimicking what the others did, even though I know I’m working with pure delusion at this point.
Kane shifts slightly in my peripheral, watching, waiting. I refuse to let him be the reason I mess this up.
Ignoring him, I grip the dart, lifting my arm and pulling it back. Right before I let it fly, I say a silent prayer to the Dart Gods.
Please, just let me hit the board. That’s all I ask.
The dart leaves my fingers in what feels like a decent throw. For half a second, I hold my breath. The little traitor flies straight, hitting the board dead center. Bullseye.
And then, in an act of utter betrayal, it bounces off the board and lands dramatically on the floor.
The silence that follows is deafening.
I stare.
Rachel makes a strangled sound. Kane lets out a low chuckle, running a hand over his jaw as he looks between me and the fallen dart.
“Well,” he drawls, titling his head, “you certainly made a statement.”
I exhale sharply, ignoring the heat rising to my face. “Oh, go ahead. Rub it in.”
His smile deepens. “You know… I could. But honestly?” He glances at the dart again, shaking his head. “I don’t think I need to.”
I stare at the dart on the floor, half tempted to throw another one purely out of spite.
Somewhere behind me, someone stifles a laugh and I fight the urge to groan.
Rachel, however, does not hold back. Oh, no. She howls, doubling over like this is the funniest thing she’s ever witnessed.
I shoot her a glare. Traitor.
At least her cackling is distracting enough that the guys focus on her instead of me, the poor, unfortunate soul who just managed to defy the laws of physics in the most humiliating way possible.
Kane, naturally, is still watching me. Clearly enjoying every second of my downfall. Dick.
“Cam, you're up,” he says, laced with amusement.
He gives me a look like he can see right through me, like he knows exactly how much I want to crawl into the floorboards. And damn it, my face is burning. I just know it’s bright red.
Cam steps up, effortless as ever, sending his dart flying. It lands with a satisfying thunk, right on the board. Of course.
And just like that, we’re back to our regular scheduled programming.
Halfway through the game, Tyler, I think it was, insists on a round of shots. At this point, another shot can’t hurt. So why not?
I throw it back with zero hesitation, feeling the warmth bloom in my chest, loosening some of my residual frustration.
Shockingly, the game is actually pretty fun, despite the fact that I've only managed to make one dart stick. And even that felt like pure luck. It’s a hell of a lot more enjoyable when you go into it with zero expectations. Especially about things like scoring points.
I’ll admit that these guys are stupidly good-looking. And, unfortunately, fun to be around. But no matter how beautiful they all are, I remind myself why I’m here.
I’ve sworn off men. I'm not interested.
Kane, in particular, seems like the exact type of man who’s fully aware of his effect on people. He’s smug, cocky, and too good at everything he does.
Annoyingly, he’s been throwing bullseyes like it’s second nature, every dart landing dead center with infuriating ease.
Hopefully, this is his only skill and he’s not obnoxiously good at everything.
“Do you just come here every night and play darts?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as he nails another bullseye like it’s nothing. “No one is actually this good at darts.”
I roll my eyes as he retrieves his dart, stepping back with a smile that makes me want to throw something. Preferably right at him.
“I didn’t peg you for a sore loser,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement.
My mouth practically drops open.
Okay, ouch. But he’s not wrong.
I hate losing. And I really hate being bad at something, which means I officially hate darts.
“You clearly need to be more observant,” I giggle despite myself. “I’m absolutely terrible at this stupid game, so of course I’m going to be a sore loser.”
I gesture toward the board, “Like, how does one just get good at darts? Do you just wake up one day and decide, ‘Yup, today’s the day I become a dart-throwing legend’?”
I throw my hands up for emphasis. “Is this even a real game?”
Rachel snorts behind me. “You’re asking the real questions now, Rave.”
Kane just shakes his head, chuckling like he actually finds me amusing, which somehow only fuels my irritation. Then, that slow, devastating curve of his lips that has to be illegal, makes an appearance.
There’s no way he doesn’t know the effect that smile has on people. And if he knows it? That makes him enemy number one. The exact kind of guy I need to stay far, far away from.
“Clearly, it's natural talent,” he says, laced with pure smugness.
Oh, for the love of…
“Who would’ve guessed you were all talk?” Kane muses. “Looks like you don’t get that drink after all.”
And then the bastard winks. Oh, he’s enjoying this way too much.
I huff out a dramatic sigh, though I can’t stop the grin tugging at my lips. “Okay, fine, full transparency? I’ve never played darts in my life.”
He raises an eyebrow, giving me a look that practically screams you don’t say.
“I'm sure you’ve gathered that by now,” I add, flashing him a sheepish grin. “I am, without a doubt, all talk. Guilty as charged. Thank God I didn’t bet anything worthwhile.”
His smile deepens, and I swear, for half a second, I catch something flicker in his eyes. Amusement?
Which, frankly, is rude, considering I’m the one who should be amused at his expense, not the other way around.
When he moves toward me, my entire body is suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is. His presence seems to eat up every inch of space between us.
I know the pub is small. But it sure as hell feels like he’s doing it on purpose.
He holds out his hand and for a second, my brain completely short-circuits. Why is he holding out his hand? Is he trying to—
Oh.
Heat creeps up my neck as I quickly recover with a forced laugh before I can dwell on whatever the hell that moment of stupidity was.
“Here you go, Princess.”
I nearly drop the dart. Princess? Where the hell did that come from?
I blink up at him, searching for any reason he just decided to call me that. But he just stands there, watching me with that infuriatingly unreadable expression.
Okay. Sure. We’re just handing out pet names now.
Snapping out of it as quickly as the moment came, I snatch the dart from his hand, narrowing my eyes. “I wonder how accurate my aim is when I’m aiming it at your head. Maybe you should go stand over there with an apple on top and see if I miss.”
Kane chuckles, completely unfazed. “You can try. But this is your last turn, I wouldn't want you to waste it.”
Then he leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flip.
“Take your turn. I'm ready to collect my prize.”
Oh, absolutely not.
I don’t even want to acknowledge the little traitorous butterflies that decided to stir at that.
Collect my prize? Like, okay, Mr. Scottish man, reel it in.
I roll my eyes at myself, furious at the ridiculous commentary running rampant in my head. Kane’s smirk hasn’t faded, not even a little, and it’s wreaking havoc on my already fragile composure.
The pub’s warm light catches on the gold flecks in his eyes, and it’s annoying how much it adds to the already-too-smug expression he’s constantly wearing. Like he knows I’m going to choke again.
Well, fuck that.
Backing down isn’t an option. Not when he’s looking at me like that. Not when everyone’s watching. I take another deep breath, centering myself. It’s not like it really matters. One throw won’t change the fact that we’re about to lose. But still… I refuse to go down without a fight.
Cam looks way too pleased with himself, like he knows they've already won. Or like he wants to drag Rachel to a dark corner and devour her. Meanwhile, Rachel looks like she’s about two seconds away from decking him.
And Kane? He’s watching me with an expression I can’t read.
None of that matters.
Right now, I need to reclaim a shred of my dignity. If I can just get the dart to stick anywhere near the inner circle, I’ll walk out of here satisfied.
Okay, Raven, get your shit together.
I almost laugh at myself, because this is where my night has led. Psyching myself up over a dart like my life depends on it.
Rachel is shouting something about how I better get a bullseye. Cam and Tyler are standing off to the side, whispering like they’re plotting my downfall. The rest of their friends are shouting words of encouragement, but their voices hum in the background as I step up to the line.
I inhale deeply.
You know what’s absolutely stupid? I can throw knives better than this. And yet, I cannot, for the life of me, get a stupid dart to stick. I adjust my grip, roll my shoulders, and picture Kane’s smug face right in the center of the board.
And I let it fly.
The dart soars through the air and collides with the board, embedding itself deep in the center.
Silence.
For a second, I don’t even register what happened.
“Oh my God,” Rachel shrieks. “You did it!”
I blink. The dart is still there. Stuck. Dead center. I actually did it. And judging by the look on Kane’s face, he wasn’t expecting that either.
Rachel is screaming, jumping up and down like we just won the damn lottery. “Raven, you did it!!! WE WON!”
We’re both bouncing like maniacs, clutching each other in triumph as the pub erupts in cheers. Cam is laughing, clapping Kane on the back.
Tyler strolls up, patting me on the back. “Good job, Bird,” he chuckles, heading toward the bar.
I freeze mid-step.
Bird.
My stomach flips and the sound of the pub fades to a distant hum. No one has ever called me that, but my grandparents.
The moment unravels before I can grasp it. Kane is walking toward me, with his annoyingly smug smile plastered on his face.
“Now where was that skill the entire game?” His voice is thick with amusement as he winks.
He raises his hand to give me a high-five and the moment his palm meets mine, a jolt shoots up my arm like an electric current.
I smile, trying to drown out the way my body is suddenly very aware of him. “We didn’t really win, did we?”
He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Not even close.”
Didn’t think so.
Well, at least I’ve learned something valuable tonight. That picturing his smug face on the dartboard might actually be the key to winning.
Rachel, naturally, gets right in Kane’s face. “We won fair and square because we got a bullseye!”
Cam steps in, still laughing, as he starts explaining how darts actually works and how, technically, we lost by a landslide.
Honestly? Don’t care. I got a bullseye, and that’s all that matters.
I turn back to Kane with a grin, crossing my arms. “I guess that means you get to know my name after all.”
But before I can get another word out, Kane chuckles. “Good game, Raven.” His voice dips as he says my name, like he’s savoring it.
Raven.
I lose all sense of time, the pub noise fades and the way he says it slams into me like a fist to the gut.
“Well, now you know,” I say, tilting my head. “And you can finally sleep like a baby knowing you’re the reigning champion of darts. A skill most people don't possess because, you know, they have better things to do with their time.”
There’s that look again. The one I can't quite decipher, but my body loves it all the same.
Kane leans in slightly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Looks like you are a sore loser after all, Princess.”
All right. That’s it. I’m never drinking again. Clearly, this is not working in my favor.
I roll my eyes, masking the fact that my body is entirely too happy about his teasing. His smartass comments, despite my best efforts, make me want to bite back.
“Just so you know,” I toss my hair over my shoulder. “I was picturing your face on my last throw.”
I turn on my heel, sauntering toward the bathroom, leaving him to sit with that and when I glance back, he’s shaking his head like he doesn't quite believe me.
Good.