Dylan's POV:
I sat back in my seat, half-listening to Jason ramble about his so-called brilliant plan for revenge. Something about this whole situation made me uneasy, but I pushed the thought aside. I wasn't exactly known for my moral compass, and it wasn't the first time we'd done something stupid for a laugh.
"So, whoever gets her first," Jason leaned back, a smug grin on his face, "wins my yacht."
Max let out a low whistle, already picturing himself sailing it. "That's the best bet you've come up with yet, man."
I chuckled, trying to get into the spirit of it. "I don't know, Jay. You really want to risk your baby on this?"
Jason shrugged, clearly unbothered. "It's not a risk when you know you'll win. She embarrassed me. Twice. No one gets away with that."
I couldn't argue with that. Jason's ego was legendary, and anyone who dared to bruise it usually paid the price. This girl—the waitress, or whatever her name was—had no idea what she was getting into. One moment, she was a nobody, hiding behind her cap, and the next, she was the target of Jason Knight's wrath.
Still, something about her didn't sit right with me. Not that I cared, but she wasn't like the other girls. She didn't fall at our feet, didn't giggle at every joke, or try to cling to us like most of the girls around here. She stayed in her own little world, wearing that ridiculous cap like armor, and, for some reason, that only seemed to irritate Jason more.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked, more out of curiosity than anything. "We just walk up to her and see who can charm her first?"
Jason's smirk grew. "Nah. I'm playing the long game. She thinks she's smart, hiding behind that cap, but I'll break her down."
Max grinned. "I bet I can do it faster. She's just playing hard to get."
"Good luck with that," Jason shot back. "She's immune to charm. But if anyone can break her, it'll be me."
I sipped my drink, the idea swirling in my mind. I didn't like losing, but something told me this wouldn't be as straightforward as we thought. And, for the first time, I wondered if this bet was going to be more trouble than it was worth.
Still, I wasn't going to back out. Not yet, anyway.
"Alright, I'm in," I said, leaning forward. "But remember—best man wins. No one gets in anyone's way."
Jason nodded, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Deal."
Max clapped his hands, clearly excited. "This is going to be fun."
As they continued talking strategy, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that we might be underestimating her. But I pushed it down. This was just another game. Another bet.
No strings attached.
At least, that's what I told myself.
Max's POV:
Jason's plan was outrageous, but that's what made it so thrilling. We were all in for a wild ride, and the thought of winning that yacht had me pumped. I could already see myself on the deck, cruising through the waves with a cold drink in hand. But first, I had to tackle this challenge: the mysterious waitress who'd managed to get under Jason's skin.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked, leaning forward with interest. Jason's face was lit up with that devious smirk of his, and I could tell he was itching to see how this would play out.
Jason took a long sip of his drink before setting it down and crossing his arms. "It's simple. Whoever gets her first, gets the yacht."
I chuckled. "And just who is this girl we're trying to impress? I'm still not clear on why she's such a big deal."
Jason rolled his eyes. "She's the waitress from that diner. The one who threw soda all over me at the basketball game."
"Oh, right," I said, snapping my fingers. "I remember now. She was the one who embarrassed you."
Max and I exchanged glances. The waitress seemed like an easy target. From what I'd seen, she didn't exactly fit in with the rest of the crowd. Just a regular girl working at a diner, nothing more. But apparently, she'd struck a nerve with Jason, and that was enough for me to get excited about this bet.
"Alright, I'm game," I said, grinning. "But what's the catch? We just flirt with her and see who wins?"
Jason shook his head. "It's not that simple. She's got this attitude, like she's untouchable. You'll have to break through that. And no funny business—no one's to hinder anyone else's progress."
"Understood," I said, nodding. "So, what's the strategy?"
Jason leaned in, eyes gleaming. "We each take our shot. I've got my own plan to wear her down. She thinks she's special, hiding out at that diner. But I'll make sure she knows who's really in charge."
I grinned. The competitive side of me was already itching to get started. It wasn't just about winning the yacht anymore; it was about the challenge. Besides, there was something satisfying about breaking through someone's defenses, especially when they thought they were above it all.
Jason continued, "Whoever gets the best shots or gets her to open up the most, wins. If you're lucky enough to find something that will embarrass her, so much the better."
"Got it," I said, already imagining the possibilities. "This should be interesting."
The game was on, and I was ready. We all knew the stakes and the rules, and while I was excited to get started, I couldn't shake a tiny feeling of doubt. I'd seen how Jason's bets could spiral, and this one felt like it could be more complicated than we anticipated. But for now, I pushed those thoughts aside. It was time to dive in and see what this mysterious waitress was really made of.
And who knew? Maybe there was more to her than met the eye.
Jason's POV:
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze fixed on the twinkling city lights below. The view was serene, but my mind was anything but. I'd been keeping a close watch on the waitress girl—the one who had stirred up more trouble in my life than I'd ever anticipated. Now, with Dylan and Max each playing their parts, I could see the games they were weaving.
A smirk tugged at my lips as I shook my head. Dylan, ever the gentleman, had slipped into his role with practiced ease. He was always the "knight in shining armor," charming anyone with his polite demeanor and seemingly sincere compliments. It was no surprise he'd play the romantic card, showering her with attention and those "accidental" touches designed to make her feel special. It was a predictable move, but effective. Dylan's charm was his weapon, and he wielded it with precision, aiming to win her heart by painting himself as the perfect, considerate guy.
Max, on the other hand, was a different breed of snake. His approach was less subtle but just as calculated. The guy had a knack for turning on the flirtatious charm with ease. Max's game was all about physical attraction—the kind that played out in a heated glance or a suggestive remark. I'd seen his type before—those who could seduce with a smile and had no qualms about using their allure to get what they wanted. Max was all about getting in her pants first, and he was more than willing to play that part.
My eyes narrowed as I considered their tactics. Dylan's method might win him some emotional traction, but Max's strategy was more immediate, aiming to exploit her vulnerabilities on a physical level. It was clear they each had their own approach, but I knew the game well enough to predict their moves. I wasn't about to let either of them succeed.