Free Fakers by Meg Collett Page A

different
sports, just like any other bar.
    Kyra lifted her chin and followed Stevie
through the crowd. She was surprised to see how packed it was, but
Stevie knew where she was going. She steered them over to the bar,
sliding along the back wall and finding them two barstools.
    “How did you see these?” Kyra shouted into
Stevie’s ear.
    Stevie pointed to a guy with long hair and
chiseled arms behind the bar. “Troy saves me seats when I come in.”
She waved when Troy blew her kiss. He made his way over.
    “The usual?” he asked. Stevie gave him a
thumbs-up. “And what about you?” he asked Kyra.
    “Water, please.”
    Stevie rolled her eyes and groaned, but Troy
nodded, moving away to take more orders and mix Stevie’s drink.
Kyra looked around the room, taking in all the bodies at the bar
and the ones dancing to the live band. Troy brought their drinks,
handing Stevie a Long Island iced tea. They flirted for a moment
before Troy left.
    “Who’s he?” Kyra shouted, leaning close to
Stevie.
    She waggled her brows at Kyra and said, “We
hang out some—if you know what I mean. Isn’t he hot?”
    Kyra looked back over her shoulder at Troy.
He caught her stare and winked. Sure, she guessed he was hot. “He’s
cute!”
    “He’s no Hale, huh?” Stevie poked her in the
ribs.
    “Whatever,” she said, laughing. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about.”
    “Well, he’s standing right over there.”
    Kyra started, following Stevie’s pointed
finger. Her eyes landed on Hale’s just as he saw her and Stevie. He
stood against the end of the bar with Cade and a group of guys from
his construction crew that Kyra recognized. His green eyes cut
through the dim bar and scalded her; she knew he was picturing her
naked by the way his eyes danced with amusement. The brow with the
piercings cocked, his lips twisting into a smirk.
    “Oh, yeah,” Stevie called. “He wants
you.”
    “He does not!”
    Stevie went on for a little longer, pointing
out different people to Kyra. Troy brought over two more Long
Islands. They flirted shamelessly, but Stevie was having fun, and
Kyra found herself relaxing.
    A hand settled on the back of her chair,
causing her to stiffen. Hot beer breath leaned down into her hair.
“Hey, sexy.”
    Kyra looked over her shoulder. A guy about
her age with gelled hair and an Affliction shirt was undressing her
with his eyes. “Hey,” Kyra said, but her voice was uninviting.
    “Wanna dance?” The guy’s eyes were all over
Kyra’s body. He pressed into her, nearly knocking her off her chair
and gagging her on his cologne.
    “No, thanks. I’m not a big dancer,” Kyra
responded, looking away.
    The guy kept on, his hand creeping onto her
back. “Oh come on, baby. Let me feel that hot body.”
    Kyra glanced back, her bitch face in place.
“The only thing you’ll be feeling tonight is yourself through a
sock.”
    The guy recoiled. He opened his mouth to say
something, but he quickly closed it and turned away, but not before
Kyra caught the flash of fear in his eyes as he left. She looked
over her other shoulder.
    “Hale,” she breathed.
    “Hey, Kyra.”
    Her name sounded rough in his mouth, and
Kyra instantly knew he would kiss like he talked: raspy and with
enough heat to set her hair on fire. He had his arm around her
chair before anyone else could come up and talk to her. She knew by
the way he propped his leg on the bottom of her stool and leaned
against the bar that he was staking out his territory. It was basic
bar real estate, and she enjoyed it for the first time ever.
    “Thanks for running that guy off,” Kyra said
over the blare of the band.
    Hale leaned closer, his skin a mere breath
from hers. The heat of his body slicked against her skin like a
warm blanket. Her stomach fluttered upward, twisting and spinning.
“What was that?” he asked, not hearing her.
    “I said thanks for running that guy off. He
was creepy,” Kyra spoke into his ear.
    He turned his head and