Contingent

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Authors: Livia Jamerlan
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their all. And in this game, they were tied with only thirty-seconds remaining. The stadium was booming, everyone roaring with excitement. The point guard dribbled the ball to the half court mark and tossed it to his open teammate, but a player on the opponents’ team sprinted towards the moving ball, smacking it towards where I sat and then stumbling in our direction.
    I couldn’t move fast enough. My hands darted up to shield my face when Landon shoved his body over mine to block the six–foot–plus athlete who was lurching in our direction. Luckily, his fall missed me and the ball bounced off Landon’s shoulder. When Landon pulled away, the crowd cheered for his chivalry. Laughter erupted between us when our eyes met. I leaned into Landon, resting my head on his shoulder as I tried to catch my breath. Tears of laughter moistened my cheeks.
    “You okay?” he asked with his chest still shaking from his laughter.
    I lifted my head from his chest. “That could have gone really badly.”
    Landon wrapped his arm around my shoulders, bringing me close to his chest. My body went willingly. “You probably wouldn’t have given me a second date if you were stampeded.”
    “Probably not.”
    “Is that a yes to a second date then?” Around us the game continued, but Landon’s low voice near my ear made it impossible to pay attention to the final seconds of the game. The moments that were usually my absolutely favorite suddenly meant nothing to me.
    I lifted my head from his chest, our eyes locking again. “We’ll see.”
    But if I were honest, there would definitely be a second date.

Peyton
    I sat at the bar sipping my whiskey, grateful for an excuse not to go home. Any excuse to ignore my life was a good one. My house was hollow; the ghost of Braelynn haunted me in every corner. Her perfume was still faint on the pillows while I slept. I had dug my own grave by letting her go and forcing her out of my life. And even though I knew it was for her own good, I was now in my own personal hell.
    My life had turned—I had resorted to sitting in a series of random bars, nursing my drink and dreading going home. I ignored everyone around me, including the constant ringing of my phone. Life had a plan for us all and this was mine whether I liked it or not. Work, success and a wife. Yes, you read that right—a wife. Those were the cards I was given.
    A pair of strong hands gripped my shoulders, bringing me out of my deep thoughts. “What are we drinking?” Taylor asked, sliding into the bar stool next to me. It was a late Tuesday night and the bar was emptying out. During the past year, I had avoided bars and lounges because a smoking blonde had me wrapped around her finger. But with the recent change of events, I found myself leaving my office and coming straight here. Taylor enjoyed it. He had his wingman back, as he called me. All I wanted was to drink until reality became a dream.
    Taylor called for the bartender, who brought him a beer. He began talking; I knew this because I heard his voice. My brain, however, was unable to process what he was saying. It had been cursing at me for the past few hours. What the fuck was I thinking when I’d agreed to marry her?
    “Dude!” Taylor pushed on my shoulder. I looked up at him, blinking a couple of times. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
    “Sorry, man, my head is all over the place.”
    “Is it shit with the wedding? Why the fuck did you ask her to marry you?”
    “I didn’t ask her to marry me. It’s complicated and I don’t want to talk about that shit. Or Devon.”
    Taylor threw his hands up. “If you want to keep drinking, be my guest. Uh, excuse me?” Taylor called out to the bartender. “Can we get the game on one of these screens?” I had never been one to follow sports, but Taylor followed everything. I took another sip of my whiskey and looked up at the screen. I couldn’t tell you if it was college basketball or an NBA game, but I watched as the

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