Owen Grady and Derek Fernandez sat across from each other in a booth at Sunrio, eyeing each other suspiciously while drinking tequila. They had been frenemies for over a year after chasing the same woman and getting played by her. When they happened to be lonely or hard up at the same time, they made great wingmen for each other. This often quickly turned into a rivalry. They were both very attractive and arrogant. In another setting, they might have been best friends. On the small island, however, the pickings could be slim, and gossip sometimes traveled at the speed of light.

Prior to this evening, they hadn't spoken in almost two months after Derek "stole" a woman named Lara from Owen. Owen was well aware that Lara made her own choice, but he saw her first and had been wooing her slowly for several weeks before Derek literally swooped in on the company jet to take her to a conference in New York. Owen never moved fast with women, and Derek was the opposite. Consequently, Derek got laid more and never missed an opportunity to rub it in the other man's face. Owen always felt that patience was a virtue, but the main reason for taking it slow was his cynicism about people. Most people - men and women alike - disappointed Owen. He'd seen too much death and destruction, lies and betrayals to trust others' motives. This was the chief source of his arrogance. He felt above most people. It took a lot to earn his respect.

Derek texted Owen earlier that day asking to meet after work. Owen was still licking his wounds from Lara and had been putting in extra hours at the raptor paddock, the one place he consistently enjoyed wholeheartedly. He agreed to meet Derek because he presumed it meant that things were over with Lara. Owen was looking forward to gloating and telling Derek that he would have done a better job with her. After exchanging a few macho but friendly jibes and complaining about petty things in island life, Derek addressed the elephant in the room.

"Look, Owen, I'm really sorry about the whole Lara thing, but...you dodged a bullet. She is a clingy psycho." Derek's eye contact wavered.

Owen grinned smugly, "You just weren't man enough for her. Admit it. She dumped your ass."

"It was a mutual parting of the ways." One side of Derek's mouth curled up deviously. "Go ahead and pursue her again. She's all yours."

"I'm not interested in your sloppy seconds."

"Are you seeing anyone right now?"

"No. Work has me busy enough."

Derek groaned and rolled his eyes, "AKA, no one good enough for you...at least until you break down and slum it."

Owen shot him a nasty glare before taking a drink. "What about you?" he asked knowingly. Derek sighed, "I'm so bored with the women here." Owen shook his head then asked, "So why did you ask to meet? If it was just to extend an olive branch, then you should've paid for my drink." Derek cleared his throat, "I have a proposition." He smiled like the Cheshire Cat. Owen was unnerved and waited for him to continue. "Did you read your employee email today?" Owen stifled a laugh. "Of course not. You never do. Well, Masrani announced the next Senior Assets Manager. She'll be arriving on the island next week."

"She?" Owen's eyebrows perked up.

"Yup. The first woman in charge of Jurassic World." Derek took a sip and leaned back in the booth. "And I know her."

"Do tell."

"Her name is Claire Dearing. She was at Wharton while I was at Penn Law. I haven't seen her for ten years, but, apparently, she's been a hot shit operations manager at Disney World. I asked around about it. Masrani poached her from Disney - a major coup. She's been very demanding but is getting whatever she wants, including bringing along several people from her own team." Derek smiled and groaned contently. "I always wanted to tap that."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Bro code. She broke my buddy's heart."

"Statute of limitations has run out, I guess?"

"Absolutely. I haven't seen Leo in a long time." Owen was getting frustrated and didn't know where this was all going. He looked at his watch in an exaggerated manner. Derek sighed, "My proposition is her." Owen wrinkled his brow. "A wager. Who can sleep with her first." Owen laughed, "What makes you think I'd be interested in her?"

"The challenge...and the terms of the wager."

"Which are?"

"Well, it honestly should be enough that you would get her in bed before me." Owen shook his head dismissively. Derek rolled his eyes, "If you nail her first, I'll never poach from you again." Owen was suddenly interested in the terms but wary when he asked, "And if you nail her first?"

"You let me bring a date to the raptor paddock." Owen slapped his palms on the table and sniggered. Derek had been making this request of him since they'd met. Owen always refused, insistent that the raptors were a private research venture and not a park attraction. Derek was convinced that it would be a huge turn-on and, on multiple occasions, expressed his exasperation that Owen never used the raptors to bag women.

"You are never going to let that go, are you?" Owen was trying to lighten the atmosphere. He was genuinely intrigued but also angry over Derek's obvious smugness. It was clear that Derek assumed he would win this bet. He was challenging Owen to take him on directly to finally be able to get what he always wanted out of their "friendship." Owen fumed silently.

Derek laughed at his reticence and finally declared, "I'm going after her regardless."

"What makes you so confident she'll go for you?" Owen was defensive.

"I'm me. I'm her type."

"You haven't seen her in ten years, and you know you're her type?"

"People don't change that much. Leo told me plenty back in the day."

"Like what?"

"Daddy issues."

"Your friend might've just been lashing out and smearing her after she broke his heart." With this remark, Owen detected a crack in Derek's confidence or maybe it was something sinister. He knew him well enough to notice it. "Why do you need the added motivation of competition with me if you think she'll succumb so easily?" Derek breathed out but didn't immediately respond. "Spill."

"Leo never actually dated her. She supposedly had a boyfriend back home in Wisconsin. It didn't stop Leo from pursuing her."

"I can see why you two were friends..."

"Leo figured she was lying to protect herself. She never talked about the boyfriend and was hanging out with Leo all the time."

"Lawyers..."

"Actually, Leo was a psychiatry resident. When he finally told her he wanted to be more than friends, she cut him out of her life entirely. Leo spiraled into depression, grew a mountain man beard, and rebuffed this cute medical student who asked him out." Owen responded shrewdly, "This is revenge."

"Maybe," Derek said while avoiding eye contact.

"I don't think I wanna be part of that."

"Just think about it. Worst case, we both end up in the friend zone with the Senior Assets Manager. Not a bad deal."

"Um, no, actually. Worst case scenario, she finds out about the wager and we're black-balled by the Senior Assets Manager." Owen was unnerved by the other man's nonchalance.

"She won't find out," Derek scoffed. "We're not really friends anyway. Rules of the game would be that we wouldn't talk to each other about our progress. We'd only spill when the deed was done." He could tell that Owen was still undecided. "Look her up. She's beautiful, smart, and a real shark. It'd be a lot of fun. Let me know." With that, Derek took the last swig of his drink and left the bar.

As Owen drove back to his bungalow, he thought about the wager. Claire Dearing wouldn't be the typical skirt that either of them chased. She would be a much more difficult target. She might even reject them both outright. Owen opened his company email as soon as he got home. Masrani's announcement included a short biography and recent photograph of the new Senior Assets Manager. A redhead, he mused, not usually his type. Nice smile. Green eyes. It was difficult to say much about her figure or height from the waist-up-only picture. Per the biography, University of Wisconsin undergrad then top of her class at Wharton. "Ms. Dearing" went immediately to Disney after business school and rose up the ranks. She was operations manager for Animal Kingdom for two years before landing the "crown jewel," the Magic Kingdom, for the preceding three years. At least she'd have some experience with living things, Owen thought. The biography ended with various, impressive accomplishments at Disney. It didn't include any personal information. Owen sighed but recognized that he shouldn't have expected something akin to a Match or eHarmony profile.

He wondered if this was a game he wanted to play. Was he really the type of guy to do such a thing? It could be fun but also cruel. Owen went over the pros and cons in his head. The idea of getting one over on Derek was honestly incentive enough, and the guarantee that he was promising was almost an offer Owen couldn't refuse. His confidence wavered. Could he beat Derek at this game? If he lost, could he face that humiliation on top of allowing Derek's long-held request? As he pondered the wager, Owen also wrestled with more unsettling questions. Is Claire Dearing someone he would pursue de novo? In terms of class and achievements, she was clearly head and shoulders above all the women he'd ever dated. He was admittedly intrigued by her success in a man's world. Derek was right about her being beautiful, but Claire didn't seem like a woman who would've slept her way to the top. Owen decided that he needed to meet her before agreeing to this wager. If she was someone he'd pursue independently, he was sure as shit not letting Derek get to her first.

Derek texted Owen several times over the next few days. It started out with Derek just asking about "The Mark" and escalated to his insisting that Owen was afraid to compete with him. Owen wasn't so easily ruffled and chose not to respond. He did, however, worry that he wouldn't have a chance to meet Claire Dearing until after she and Derek reconnected. Derek worked in the administrative offices near the control floor and would have much easier access to her. Owen normally enjoyed the isolation of the raptor paddock, both in terms of its geographical separation and his being an InGen employee without oversight from Jurassic World staff. This isolation now frustrated him for the first time in almost two years. He questioned when he would have an occasion to interact with Claire Dearing. Derek could probably finagle her exact schedule through his various operations insiders. Owen had a friend in control who could give him a significant advantage, but he really didn't want to play that card...if he decided to play this game at all.

Owen was in a Catch 22 situation with the wager. To refuse might be interpreted as cowardice and Derek winning by his forfeit. Whether or not Claire Dearing actually succumbed to Derek would be moot - he'd be besting Owen regardless. On the other hand, accepting the wager meant more work than he typically put into a courtship and for the wrong reasons. He needed to justify accepting for the right reasons. Claire was currently just a trophy in his head, a mythical prize to be won. Unfortunately for Owen, meeting her might not fully disentangle the right from the wrong. He foresaw second-guessing his motives even if he found her to be wildly alluring. Then again, Owen rarely found any woman he met to be wildly alluring. That kind of rarity would be hard to pass up.

Early September was the beginning of the off season for the park. The resort was at less than 50% capacity, and the smaller, less commercial eateries and bars were virtual ghost towns in the evenings. It was the only time of year Owen liked hanging out on Main Street. He found himself wandering there one night after work, lost in his thoughts about Claire Dearing. She hadn't started working on the island to his knowledge, and her arrival was honestly making him anxious. He decided to self-medicate at a bar that was almost exclusively an employee hang-out this time of year. It was not uncommon to hear Tejano blasting from the speakers while raucous games of pool went on later than last call. It reminded him of his hometown in Texas and various good times during his Naval career.

The bar was even quieter than usual. No Tejano was emanating from the back room, but Owen heard the pleasant, measured smacking of billiard balls against each other and the cushions. He ordered a Corona and chatted with the bartender about the off-season slow-down. Owen commented on the atmosphere being "relaxed." The bartender laughed, "Ironically, I think everyone here is feeling the opposite...given the private game in the back." He nodded toward the open door to the billiards room, and Owen rotated his stool. He took a sip of his beer and promptly almost spit it out when he saw the redhead moving around the pool table to set up her shot. He was staring and had absolutely no shame about it. He couldn't blink. Claire Dearing, in the flesh, wearing a pale green camisole, fitted navy blue slacks, black pumps, and a gold belt. She looked intensely focused on her shot. Her pumps gave her extra height, so she didn't have to lean as far over the table. Owen mused that he would enjoy seeing her more bent over the table. He heard the sound of the ball dropping in the pocket but noticed that Claire's face didn't change. She didn't smile with satisfaction or victory - she knew she would sink it. She straightened her body in a steady, controlled fashion and rubbed chalk on the end of her cue while maintaining her focus on the table. She was planning her next shot. Owen finally blinked when she moved around the table and out of his view. Damn, he thought to himself.

Owen took his bottle and walked to the billiards room. He stopped in the doorway and watched her again. Claire's back was towards him, and her camisole hiked up slightly as she leaned into her shot. Her skin was pale, porcelain and spotless without any visible tattoos or the faintest hint of a tan. How had she lived in Orlando for years and not have a tan? Owen wondered if she was some sort of shut-in or workaholic who never went outside. He was staring again, this time at her tight ass. He waited for her to sink her shot then said emphatically in a teasing tone, "Hey, princess." Without skipping a beat or motioning toward him, Claire answered, "As if I haven't heard that one about a hundred times." She straightened up and turned to face him, leaning against her cue. One side of her mouth curled up, and Owen was convinced he saw a twinkle in her eye as she looked him up and down. Claire sharpened her gaze and cocked her head slightly to one side, "Do you work for me?" Owen smirked, "Nope." She shook her head then moved around the table to set up her next shot.

"You don't look like a guest," she said without making eye contact as she considered the geometry on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Owen saw a deep purple blouse resting on the back of a chair. The small table in the room had a glass of clear liquid and a long black case resting on top of it.

"I'm not a guest. I'm with InGen. Research."

"Oh," Claire suddenly perked up and looked at him with surprise or, perhaps, delight - Owen hoped. "That's fortunate," she said softly and under her breath before leaning in for her next shot. Owen furrowed his brow and inspected the full rack of cues on the wall. He walked toward the rack and waited again for her to sink her shot before asking, "Is that your own, personal cue?"

"Of course," she scoffed without any humor in her voice, "I only put my hands on the best equipment." Owen mouthed a long, silent "oooooh." She smiled at him while preparing to hit the eight ball. Claire seemed to be putting on more of a show with her calculated movements now compared to when he was watching her from the bar. It was incredibly sexy. Owen focused his energy on not grinning like a maniac. When she sunk the eight ball, she smiled at him contentedly then almost brushed against him as she walked toward the table with her things. Owen could smell vanilla on her and had to close his eyes to re-center himself. She eyed him suspiciously as she took a long drink from her glass.

"Did you want to play?" Claire asked somewhat tauntingly.

"Are you leaving?" He answered playfully.

"Do you want me to?"

"No." His voice was soft; his stare unflinching. She shrugged her shoulders slightly, giving nothing away as she walked back toward the pool table.

"Solids or stripes?" She asked while retrieving the triangle rack.

"Ladies choice." He said, emptying the pockets and rolling the balls toward her.

"You get stripes then." Her gaze was piercing and sultry. Owen was feeling increasingly warm. He had to break their eye contact and looked toward the cue rack on the wall.

"Do I have to use one of these bum cues or do you have an extra?" He teased. Claire laughed, "I'll grant you a handicap." Owen feigned offense then raised one eyebrow, "I don't need that. My hands are skillful regardless." He was turning on his best smolder and charm. Claire seemed amused but otherwise unfazed. That was annoying to him. Owen was right to think she'd be more work for him. She lifted the ball rack off the table.

"Show me what you got," she demanded gently. "Break."

"Let's make this a little more challenging - if you can handle it."

"Numerical order?" When he nodded, she rolled her eyes saying, "You just want to make this last longer."

"I'm always capable of that," he smiled devilishly while chalking his cue. Claire chuckled softly then took a sip from her glass. As Owen set up his break shot, she purposefully leaned against the opposite end of the table so that her cleavage was in his line of sight. He pretended not to notice.

They took turns moving around each other and the table in silence, sometimes sinking shots, sometimes not. Neither of them tried to deliberately distract the other. Claire's very presence was distracting enough to Owen. He tried his best to focus on the billiards game and not the other, more personal game they were playing with each other. He caught her glancing at him every now and then. That made him feel better. At one point, Claire announced needing a refill of her glass and headed toward the bar.

"You trust me not to cheat?" he teased. Claire didn't turn when she called back, "I'm taking a leap of faith, stranger." It was only then that Owen realized he never introduced himself. He suddenly felt like a shit. She returned with a full glass and leaned against the doorframe to watch Owen pick his shot.

"Do you need the bridge?" she taunted. She was finally making him nervous. He ignored her question, took his shot, and scratched.

"Damnit," Owen huffed under his breath. Claire didn't gloat or laugh. She calmly put down her glass and removed the cue ball from the pocket. He walked over to the small table and sniffed her drink, "Water or gin?" Claire smiled widely while setting up her next shot, "It was gin, but I need to drive home so I switched to water."

"Pool and gin," he mused. "I wouldn't have pegged Claire Dearing as such a Paul Newman type." She sunk her shot - her last necessary before taking a crack at the eight ball - then leaned back against the table to regard him carefully. Owen stood still next to her glass and maintained her gaze.

"So," she said coolly as she walked toward him, "Are you ever going to tell me your name or should I just start calling you 'Sundance'?" Claire stopped just inches away from him and raised an eyebrow. Owen remained silent. They maintained eye contact as she reached around him for her glass. Her forearm brushed against his briefly. The sensation gave him goosebumps. His pants felt tighter, and Owen hoped she didn't notice. He cleared his throat, "Owen Grady." His voice was thick and gravelly. Claire took a sip from her glass then slammed it down forcefully. She smiled at his startle reaction before turning on her heel toward the pool table. Owen was done. His concentration was fully broken. He hoped she sunk the eight so he didn't have another opportunity to embarrass himself. Claire didn't disappoint him. Her concentration was still spot-on. It was annoying and enticing at the same time. She stood up and looked at him gleefully.

"You're a worthy adversary, Owen, but I think you should've taken that handicap."

"Re-match another time...Claire." He lingered over her name, and she smiled. He spotted a faint blush on her cheeks. Claire walked over to the small table, opened the latches on the case, and placed her cue inside. Owen put his own cue back on the rack. He watched as she - seductively, he thought - put on her blouse and buttoned it. She finished off the look by re-positioning her belt at her natural waist on top of the long blouse. Owen mused that his current level of exhaustion and satisfaction while watching a woman dress otherwise only occurred after having sex. The way she looked back at him made it almost feel as if they did just have sex. Claire picked up the case by its handle, and her eyes seemed to drop nervously toward her feet. It was adorable.

"No one's gonna mess with you on Main Street," he said, pointing to the case. "It looks like you're packing something else." Claire smiled, "I left THAT case at home tonight." Owen laughed, "Full of surprises, Claire." He liked the sound of her name on his lips. They stared at each other for an awkward moment before she looked away.

"See you around...Owen," she said before turning to leave. He watched her until she left the bar then sat on the edge of the pool table. He exhaled very slowly to calm his racing pulse. Owen took his phone out of his pocket and texted Derek, "I'm in."

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