The Consequence of Revenge

“Clever.” Colton nodded.

Another girl appeared on screen. Her smile was . . . pretty. I shifted a bit in my seat, my pencil hovering over the paper. “Hi, I’m Becca.”

“She’s hot,” Jason interjected. “Is that your pick, Milo?”

“Yup!” She crossed her arms. “And she’s local!”

There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. Pretty golden-blond hair, really pretty eyes.

“. . . I’m a student so I work at a local Starbucks and . . .”

With a grimace I imagined a green apron on her and nodded slowly. “Yeah, guys, she’s a no-go.”

“What?” Milo smacked me on the leg. “She’s perfect!”

“Agreed.” Jason pointed. “She’s hot and it’s not the scary type of hot that makes men cover their privates.”

“Oh, she’s hot all right.” I chuckled nervously. “I told her so this morning.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. “And when you say you told her so, you mean you used one of your really creepy pickup lines and got all up in her business.”

“They aren’t creepy!” I yelled. “I have a seventy percent success rate!”

“And the other thirty percent?” Colt just HAD to ask.

I shrugged. “I’ve been slapped a time or two.”

“He wore a cup for an entire semester because girls were starting to kick his little friend.”

“Not little.” I sent a wink to Milo and blew a kiss.

And received a sucker punch to the gut from Colton.

“Thanks,” I wheezed.

“So.” Milo ignored my inability to breathe. “You used a pickup line and she laughed?”

“Er, sorta.” I wrote “prude” next to her name and tried to change the subject. “Let’s look at the rest of the girls, yeah?”

“What was the pickup line?” Jason asked. “I’m curious now. What do seventy percent of the women out there fall for?”

Yeah, no way in hell was I getting out of this one. “ ‘Hold still.’ ” I coughed and blurted out the rest of the line as fast as I could manage. “ ‘So I can pick you up.’ ”

Jason’s face remained blank. “Pick me up? Pick me up where?”

“You know.” I rolled my eyes. “Pick. You. Up.”

“Dude!” Jason burst out laughing. “You wanted to weigh her?”

“What? Hell, no!”

“She thinks you called her fat.” Milo groaned into her hands.

“HOW does that sound like a fat joke?” I almost snapped my pencil in two and threw it across the room. “I wanted to pick her up, as in pick her up, or like hit on her.”

“Question.” Colt raised his hand. “Would the pickup line be any better if you said, ‘Hold still while I hit on you?’ ”

“That sounds like a domestic violence case to me.” Jason’s tone was serious.

“Whatever. You guys just don’t understand how to hit on a girl.”

The room fell silent.

“Colt?” Jason nodded. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Babe.” Colt turned to Milo. “Sometimes a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

“I’m lost. Anyone else lost?” I looked at my three friends.

“He needs to know the error of his jackassery.” Jason nodded. “Come on, let him, Milo.”

Grumbling, she folded her hands over her chest. “Fine, but if one bitch cops a feel I’m ripping her hair out.”

“Hot.” I nodded. And ducked as Colt lunged for me again. “I’m still lost, by the way.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Caught that.” I motioned for him to get on with it.

“And you have no idea how to speak to women.”

I smirked. “Dude, if you guys are spending all your time speaking, you’re clearly doing it wrong.”

“Should I slap him?” Colt asked Milo. “Or do you wanna do the honors?”

I stood and moved away from the couch, pencil thrust into the air like a sword.

“I pick the bar.” Jason stood and stretched. “Winner takes all.”

“What are we doing? What are we taking?”

“Out.” Colt puffed out his chest and stood. “May the best pickup line win.”

Backed into a corner. Like a damn rat. “You sure you guys want to go up against me? I mean—do you even know my track record?”

“Yeah, you said seventy percent.” Jason smacked me on the back. “But I’m feeling lucky . . . one hundred percent lucky.”

I scowled. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“Watch. Me.”

CHAPTER FIVE

MAX

I popped my knuckles as we walked into the bar. It was going to be too easy. Poor Jason didn’t stand a chance. The guy was a walking accident. If he wasn’t holding a bag of peas against his balls by the end of the night, well, I’d eat my hat. Of course, I wasn’t wearing a hat, so I’d just have to pretend, but you get what I mean.

Colt on the other hand kept getting glares from Milo, so I knew he wasn’t going to bring his best game.

Leaving me . . . the win.

I know it seems ridiculous—how does a guy pick up so many girls using cheesy lines? Listen up, because what I’m about to give you is the equivalent of free gold, your ride into the promised land, your bread, your butter, your freaking passport into heaven where women always engage in pillow fights and take off their tops. Just. Because. They. Can.