Womanizer

Alabama didn't beat Tennessee; they dominated them. The final score was 29-9.

Casting Megan a sidelong glance, Brian slapped a fifty dollar bill into her waiting palm. She sighed softly and shoved it into the pocket of her skintight jeans. She'd been right: this wager wasn't as satisfactory as last week's. She didn't even feel like boasting about the victory.

"No bragging?" Brian said, feigning shock. "No shouting about how much better than Tennessee your team is? Whoa. Are you sick?"

"There's no point in broadcasting it today," Megan retorted. "That would be redundant. I mean...look at the score."

Brian grinned. "That's my girl."

"I hate Tennessee more than any other team, except Auburn," Megan declared. "And maybe Florida."

"Go Gators," Brian said cheekily.

Megan's eyes narrowed. "I'll kill you."

"Here comes your friend." Brian gestured with the unlit cigarette he'd just taken from a slightly crushed pack.

Megan turned and saw John. He waved at her, squinting against the early afternoon sun. Megan descended the steps and leaned over the wall for a hug.

"How are you?" John questioned.

"Pretty good. Just won myself fifty bucks."

"Betting on the game?"

"Yep. I should probably split it with you. That was a great game."

"Thanks."

Megan shifted, uncomfortable for perhaps the first time ever in John's presence. "Um, well, I guess I'll see you next weekend."

"It's Homecoming next weekend," John said. "Y'all should get to T-Town early. There will be plenty to do."

"Sounds good. We'll make a day of it."

"Alright. Y'all be careful on the way home."

After another hug, John set off towards his teammates and Megan rejoined Brian. The two of them strolled out to the Camaro.

"Do you want to stop for lunch on the way home?" Brian asked.

"Am I buying?" Megan said sarcastically.

"As I recall, you did just come into some money."

"And as I recall, you're Synyster fucking Gates, rock star extraordinaire."

"Fine, you gold-digger. I'm buying."

Megan couldn't suppress a smile. "Then yes, I'd love to have lunch."

Brian shook his head. Megan put in a CD, skipping to track four. Poison's "Unskinny Bop" floated from the speakers. Brian's eyebrows rose.

"What?" Megan said challengingly.

"Nothing. I was just expecting something more...pop-oriented."

"Eh, I didn't want to torture you too badly today. After all, I've already robbed you of fifty bucks. Poor baby."

"Are you a big fan of Poison?"

"Nope. I saw a band cover this song and decided I could stomach it." Megan cracked her window. "I'm not a big fan of 80's music, period."

"A lot of good came out of the 80's," Brian said. "But a lot of bad did, too."

"Y'all claim several bands from the 80's as influences."

"Yeah." Brian paused to light another cigarette. "To be fair, we dip into a little bit of everything when writing and recording. Personally, I will cite a few bands from the 80's, but I'm much more influenced and inspired by the 70's."

"I grew up with 70's music," Megan commented. "And the Beatles."

"I love the Beatles!" Brian exclaimed. "Pure genius."

"I'm a Pink Floyd fanatic myself."

"I can appreciate that. David Gilmour is the shit."

"A talented guitarist and songwriter with a gorgeous singing voice," Megan said. "The shit, he is."

"Favorite Pink Floyd album?" Brian queried.

"As cliché as it is, The Wall. Everything about that album is brilliant. And the movie? Don't even get me started."

Poison came to an end and track five began--Cheap Trick's version of "I Want You to Want Me."

Brian chuckled. "Are you sure you hate the 80's?"

Megan shrugged. "It has its moments, as you pointed out."

"What about GNR? You have to like GNR."

"I like everything about GNR except Axl Rose. His voice grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard."

"Matt idolizes him, you know."

"Matt's an idiot."

"Technically, Axl has an amazing voice. Pitch, tone--"

"Then why does he sound like a cat in a blender?" Megan countered.

Brian laughed. "It's a mystery." He looked at Megan, dark eyes still shining with his laughter. "What do you feel like today? Pizza, burgers, steak, seafood? Your wish is my command."

"Taco Bell," Megan said.

"Taco Bell!?" Brian echoed incredulously. "I'm offering you anything you want, and you choose Taco Bell? There must be something wrong with you."

"I want a Nachos Bell Grande," Megan defended herself. "Screw you and your superior palate."

"We can go to a Mexican restaurant."

"Taco Bell."

Brian sighed. "I'm trying to help you become a more discerning individual and you demand Taco Bell. There's no hope for you, Megan. None whatsoever."

"You're a snob, Brian Haner, Junior."

"Haven't we already had this conversation? I believe it culminated in you calling me a 'stupid, immature, diva whore.'"

"Oh yeah."

"Has your opinion changed at all?"

Megan frowned thoughtfully. "I guess you're not that stupid. And lately, you haven't been much of a whore."

"So now I'm just an immature diva?"

"Yep. Wow, taking baby steps towards improvement."

Brian flipped her off and she laughed.

"Why do you care what I think anyway?" she inquired.

"I don't. I was just curious." Brian finished his cigarette and tossed it out his open window. "What's our next wager?"

"Um..."

Brian signaled and switched lanes, glancing at her. "I chose the last two, so this one's all on you."

Betting money hadn't been nearly as fun or exciting as betting a kiss, Megan reflected. However, Megan couldn't bring herself to be as daring and bold as Brian had been with that first wager. There had to be something she could wager that was more than money and less than a kiss.

A date? she mused. But that proposal would make her seem more interested than she was. A date wasn't something you could play off as being casual and meaningless. Unless you're Brian, she thought. The kiss didn't mean anything, neither will a date. It's just a game.

"A date," she said. "Winner chooses the activity. Loser pays."

The corners of Brian's mouth twitched with a slight smile. "Sounds good."