The Captain Claim

Three

LILA

The whiskey settled in my stomach like liquid fire, and I welcomed it. Anything was better than the hollow ache that had taken up residence in my chest since I'd seen that kiss on the jumbotron.

Callum Reid was still standing there, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. His dark eyes reflected the neon sign behind the bar, and there was something almost predatory about the way he held himself. Confident. Unbothered. Like nothing in the world could touch him.

I hated that I envied it.

"So," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"Fair enough." He took a sip of his own drink, then set it down with a soft clink. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

I blinked. "Sorry?"

"About what happened tonight." His jaw tightened, and the bruise there seemed darker in the bar's dim lighting. "That whole jumbotron thing. It was a stain on the team, and I didn't know about it until it was already happening."

"You didn't know." My voice came out flat.

"I didn't." He leaned against the bar, close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with something clean and fresh. Shower gel, maybe. "I didn't know you two were together."

A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. "We weren't. Apparently."

"He's an idiot."

"He's a liar." I picked up my glass again, swirling the amber liquid. "But I'm the fool for believing I was his."

The words hung between us, raw and exposed. I wanted to take them back immediately, to shove them down where they belonged, but Callum just looked at me with something that might have been understanding.

"You're not a fool," he said quietly.

"Sure feels like it."

He didn't argue, which I appreciated. Instead, he raised his glass again. "To not being fools, then."

I clinked mine against his, harder this time. The sound rang out sharp and clear.

We drank.

The alcohol was doing its job now, making everything softer around the edges. The music seemed louder, the lights brighter, and Callum Reid seemed closer than he had been a minute ago.

Or maybe he actually was closer.

"You know what I want right now?" I said, and my voice sounded different. Rougher. "All I want to do is get him back."

Callum's eyebrows rose. "Get him back?"

"Make him feel what I felt." I turned to face him fully, and suddenly we were very close indeed. "Make him watch while I..."

I trailed off, but my eyes finished the sentence.

Callum's expression shifted. Something dangerous flickered across his face, then disappeared just as quickly. "Hell no."

The rejection stung more than it should have. "Why not?"

"Because you're hurt and drunk and looking for a band-aid." He set his glass down with more force than necessary. "I'm not that guy."

"You're a playboy," I shot back. "Everyone knows it. Half the campus has probably been in your bed."

His jaw clenched. "That's not the same thing."

"How is it different?"

"Because those girls know what they're getting into." He leaned in, and his voice dropped lower. "They're not using me to get back at someone else."

I felt heat rise in my cheeks, whether from anger or embarrassment or the whiskey, I couldn't tell. "So what? You have standards now?"

"I have a type."

"And what type is that?"

"Girls who actually want me." His eyes locked onto mine. "Not girls who want to hurt their ex."

The air between us felt charged, electric. I could feel my pulse in my throat.

"You bought me whiskey," I pointed out.

"I was being nice."

"Were you?"

His gaze dropped to my lips for half a second, then back up. "Yeah. I was."

We stared at each other. The bar noise faded into background static. Someone laughed too loud at a table behind us, but I barely heard it.

Callum broke first, looking away and reaching for his drink. "You know what the best revenge is?"

"What?"

"Living your life." He took another sip, slower this time. "Just living well. Being happy. That drives people crazy more than anything else you could do."

"That's very mature of you."

"I have my moments."

I wanted to argue, to push back, but there was something about the way he said it that made me pause. Like he actually believed it. Like maybe he'd learned it the hard way.

The bartender passed by, and Callum ordered us another round without asking if I wanted one. I should have been annoyed, but I wasn't.

"Okay," I said when fresh glasses appeared in front of us. "So if revenge is living well, what does that look like?"

"It is different for everyone." He shrugged. "What's something you've always wanted to do?"

I thought about it. Really thought about it. What did I want? Before tonight, I would have said marry Ethan. Build a life together. But that had been a fantasy, hadn't it? A lie wrapped in promises.

"Drink," I finally said. "Which I'm doing now."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

He studied me, and I felt stripped bare under that gaze. As if he could see past the anger and hurt to something deeper. Something I wasn't ready to look at myself.

"What else?" he pressed.

"I don't know. Everything feels pretty pointless right now."

"Try."

The whiskey made me bold. Or maybe I'd been bold all along and just never knew it. I turned on my stool, so I was facing him directly, our knees almost touching.

"You," I said.

Callum went very still. "What?"

"Something I've always wanted to do." I held his gaze, watching his pupils dilate slightly. "You."

The silence stretched between us, taut and humming with tension. I could see his throat work as he swallowed. Could see the exact moment his control slipped just a fraction.

"Lila." My name sounded different in his mouth. Rougher. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I?"

"You're drunk."

"Not that drunk." I leaned in closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin. "Not drunk enough to forget what I'm saying."

His hand came up, and for a second, I thought he was going to touch me. Instead, he gripped the edge of the bar, knuckles going white.

"This is a bad idea," he said.

"Probably."

"You'll regret it in the morning."

"Maybe." I tilted my head, studying the way his jaw clenched. "But right now? Right now, I don't care about morning."

Something in his expression cracked. Just a little. Just enough for me to see the want underneath.

"You're playing with fire," he warned.

"Good." I smiled, and it felt wicked. "I told you I wanted to burn."

His eyes darkened. The muscle in his jaw jumped. He looked like he was fighting himself, as if two versions of him were battling it out behind those dark eyes.

The honorable one who wanted to protect me from making a mistake.

And the other one. The one that wanted to devour me.

"You don't know what you're asking for," he said, voice rough.

"Then show me."

The words came out breathy, desperate. I hated how much I meant them. Hated that I was being exactly the kind of girl he'd accused me of being, using him to forget someone else.

But I couldn't stop.

I didn't want to stop.

Callum's hand moved from the bar to my knee, and even through my jeans, the touch felt scorching. His fingers were warm and firm, and they sent a jolt straight through me.

"Last chance," he murmured. "Walk away now, and we forget this conversation happened."

I put my hand over his, pressing it more firmly against my leg. "I'm not walking anywhere."

He leaned in closer, so close I could feel his breath on my lips. "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Yeah. I thought so."

The space between us had disappeared completely now. I could count his eyelashes if I wanted to. Could see the tiny scar above his left eyebrow. Could feel the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

"Callum," I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Stop being noble. Just for tonight."

Something in him surrendered. I felt it in the way his grip on my knee tightened. Saw it in the way his eyes went from conflicted to decided.

"Just for tonight," he agreed.

And then his mouth was on mine, and the world caught fire.

The kiss was nothing like the gentle, careful ones Ethan used to give me. This was hungry and demanding and slightly desperate. Callum kissed like he was claiming something, like he was making a point, and I kissed back just as fiercely.

His hand slid up from my knee to my waist, pulling me closer to the edge of my stool. My fingers found his hair, tangling in the dark strands that were still slightly damp.

Someone whistled from across the bar, but I didn't care.

Let them watch. Let everyone watch.

Let Ethan find out.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Callum rested his forehead against mine.

"We should get out of here," he said.

"Your place or mine?"

"Mine's closer."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

He pulled back enough to look at me, and there was a question in his eyes. One last check to make sure I really wanted this.

I answered by sliding off my stool and grabbing his hand.

"Let's go," I said.