Brain Games

8. Defeat

After a few moments, I feel the faintest tug of my hair, as if someone twisted a lock around their finger and let the curl unwind itself. Still too tired to move, I convince myself to glance at the culprit, worried it might be some random weirdo.

I turn my face so that my cheek is now resting on my arm and open my eyes, glancing across the table through my lashes at the person. Yep, definitely a weirdo.

Brad sits across from me, arms crossed over the table as he leans in and stares down at me.

"Didn't anyone teach you it's not polite to stare?" I grumble.

His lips twitch up in the faintest of smiles. "Didn't anyone teach you it's not polite to fall asleep at the table?"

I grunt in rebuttal. "Don't you have someone else to bother? Where's your nurse friend? I'm sure she'd love your company."

He only shrugs. "But it's so much more fun talking to you," he taunts.

I mutter an explicit under my breath before closing my eyes again.

I hear him softly chuckle before I hear the sound of glass sliding across wood. "Here," he says. I glance up to see a beer bottle in front of me.

I scrunch up my nose. "Why are you buying me a beer?"

"I know this should be the other way around—you know, since I won today, and all—but you look like you could really use one."

I huff, finally sitting up straight in the booth. "Well I don't need you to buy me one."

He pursues his lips together, like he's trying to suppress a laugh.

"What?" I snap.

He smiles, eyes twinkling with humor in the dim lighting. Using his index finger, he points to his forehead, signaling.

My hand immediately flies up to my forehead, fingers brushing across it, feeling a small indent on the left side. I glance down at my hand, realizing it's from my momma's ring. I laid my forehead on top of my hands when I was dozing off, hence the indent.

I groan, scrubbing at the spot, hoping to buffer it out some.

"Nice ring," Brad comments.

"Ooo, really pretty," Ashlee comments, suddenly sliding in next to me, burger and whisky sour in hand.

Patrick cautiously slides in next to Brad, balancing two burgers in one hand and two beers in the other. He slides mine to me across the table.

"Bless you," I praise, my stomach growling loudly.

I grab my burger, ready to stuff my face, but Ashlee grabs my hand away from the greasy goodness, observing the ring. "It's so cute and dainty. Where did you get it?"

"It's my momma's. My daddy got it for her on one of their very first dates."

Ashlee awws obnoxiously, and I can't help but smile. My parents love story will always be one of my favorites.

I glance down at the ring, admiring it for a moment, and remind myself to pick up a chain to wear it as a necklace, because I'm afraid if I keep wearing it on my finger it'll get peeled off with one of my gloves and end up lost in the trash forever. If that ever happened... I'd be devastated.

Ashlee releases my hand and just as I'm about to finally devour my burger, Brad asks, "How did your parents meet?"

I stop mid bite, the question catching me off guard. Especially coming from him. He doesn't seem like the one to care about sentimentals.