A Betting Man

Chapter Eight

Adelaide's Point of View

Uh oh. He looks mad. Maybe I've pushed him too far. Holy shit, what do I do now?

I clear my throat softly, but he doesn't seem to hear. He's distracted, running both hands through his mop of messy hair, and I can practically feel his frustration radiating across the room.

I'm a little nervous, to be perfectly honest. He's incredibly sexy, I'll admit, but I don't really know this man. I've never seen him interact with other people, unless you count our servers. And I've never met any of his friends, unless you count Nolan.

Then, in a rush of relief, I remember Cayden. Oh, thank fucking gosh. Cayden said mostly nice things about Justin. He made him out to be a decent guy when overlooking his womanizing qualities. And for some reason unbeknownst to me, I trust that big oaf. Fey really seems to like him, at least, and I trust her judgment.

I find the bottle opener in one of my drawers. "Justin," I finally say, "will you come open the wine?"

I nearly expect him to stand up and start screaming at me. What will I do if he does? Will I stand here and take it... will I apologize?

I feel a little frustrated as well. This is already too complicated for me. Fuck no I'm not apologizing. He made a bet on me – as far as I'm concerned, a year's' worth of cockblocking wouldn't be enough to make up for that.

He stands up and – I swear on the tallest stack of bibles – he adjusts his boner right in front of me, sneaking in a glare as he does. Yeah, he's obviously not happy.

But his voice is surprisingly calm.

"Sure, Addie."

He walks to the kitchen and silently takes the wine opener. When I catch his gaze, I'm met with a stony stare. I turn away, flushing, and busy myself by retrieving the wine from the refrigerator. He takes it without a word.

Damn, this has quickly turned into the most awkward moment of my life. I should have just fucking kissed him. It's practically all I've thought about for the whole weekend. And kissing most certainly isn't fucking – there'd be no harm in it, right?

While he opens the wine I pull the lasagna from the oven, its delicious smell immediately wafting throughout the kitchen. I'm momentarily distracted.

"Mmm. This smells good."

I hear the pop as the cork is removed from the wine bottle. "Do you have any wine glasses?" His tone is monotone.

I sigh and pull two glasses from one of my top cabinets. My wrist isn't hurting, but it seems my happy buzz from the pills has completely worn off. Justin doesn't even look at me as he takes the glasses.

"Can you please stop that?" I finally demand, exasperated.

He finally makes eye contact, his green eyes impassive. "Stop what?"

Yeah... like you don't fucking know. Jerk.

Feeling bold, I reply, "If you have something to say to me, then just say it."

He pours me a small glass of wine and hands it over in silence. I want to protest – right now I feel like I could use the whole bottle – but I have more pressing matters to attend to.

"Are you mad at me?"

He looks at me curiously, taking a sip from his own glass. "Why would I be mad at you?"

Honestly? "Because I gave you a boner and didn't follow through."

He nearly chokes on his wine. I'm happy to have finally gotten a response from him.