Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
It was inevitable.
Fate, as Posey would say.
“You should have asked me.”
That gets my full attention. “Excuse me? You wanted me to ask permission to date a girl who has free will? She could have said no when I offered her a ride home—but she didn’t.”
Should have asked him for permission—give me a goddamn break.
“That’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is a heads-up would have been decent.”
Fine. I’ll concede that it might have been the right thing to do considering he’s my teammate and everything and I’ve known him longer than I’ve known her.
Way longer.
Diego and I have gone to war together on the playing field, but in all honesty, it feels like Ryann and I are fighting one together too.
A battle with the media.
“You’re right.”
He hesitates. “You being serious?”
I roll my eyes. “Course I’m bein’ serious. You’re right. The least I could’ve done was give you a heads-up so you didn’t have to see it on the news like everyone else.”
It’s as close to an actual apology as the dude is going to get and he knows it, shuffling backward a few steps.
“Thanks, I guess.”
I nod, thinking the matter is settled, thinking Diego is going to float away and leave me to get undressed and shower so I can get the hell out of here and head home.
I’m starving.
I want food, not to listen to his whining.
“I’m just wondering why you wanted to keep hanging out with her in the first place. It doesn’t make sense. You gave me such a hard time about breaking up with her.”
“Dude, you paid me to dump her for you. And by the way, you haven’t actually paid me, so…”
I turn my back on him so I can peel off my T-shirt. It’s soaked with perspiration.
“Since when do you date, though?”
Hands on the waistband of my compression pants, I slowly turn back to face him.
“Where are you going with this?”
Surely he’s not smart enough to put the puzzle pieces together. Surely he hasn’t heard whispers about Ryann doing me a favor—I haven’t told anyone except my brothers; the only other two people who know are Ryann and me. Unless she told people?
We have no friends in common…
My wheels turn.
No. You’re jumping to conclusions. Diego is dumb as a box of rocks. He knows nothing. You’re just paranoid.
“I just want to know what motivated you to ask her out.”
“Technically, I didn’t ask her out.” I resume undressing. “And we happen to have a class together, which is actually really convenient.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“Look, man, if any of this hurt your feelin’s, I’m sorry.” I have to force the words out, almost vomiting on them. It’s not the sincerest of statements, not by a long shot. “I wasn’t plannin’ to have feelin’s for the girl.”
“You have feelings for Ryann?”
“I guess so, yeah.” Grabbing the towel from the top shelf of my cubby, I wrap it around my neck. “Are we done here, ’cause I wanna rinse off. I’m disgusting.”
“Yeah, we can be done here.”
I watch his face. “We good?”
Diego nods. “Yeah, we’re good.”
But we’re not good.
Not by a long shot.
When I arrive home, Tiffany is on my front porch, swinging on the porch swing, feet dangling, rising when I climb the steps one by one, eyeing her skeptically.
I switch my backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Did you need something?”
Why the hell is she sitting out in the cold, wearing nothing but black leggings and a cropped hoodie? Her stomach is showing, for fuck’s sake, and she’s only wearing sneakers—the chunky white kind it seems chicks are all wearing these days.
Tiffany weirds me out for a few reasons.
She’s always popping up when I don’t want her around.
She hangs out with my brother Drake, but for whatever reason, she always finds the opportunity to make conversation with me—unwanted conversation—as if she’s only hanging out with him so she can get close to me.
She has motives I can’t figure out, and that makes me unable to trust her.
I wish Drake would stop letting her and her friends inside the house. Now that I have a girlfriend, the last thing I need is cleat chasers weaseling their way in and making shit weird for Ryann.
Ryann hasn’t said as much, but what woman wants a Tiffany trying to get on my dick all the time?
“No.” Tiffany is acting coy, despite the cold wind whipping around.
I have no idea how she’s tolerating it in that half-cut-off sweatshirt.
“Then why are you sitting out here?”
She shrugs, eyes glancing around the yard.
I glance down in the yard too—for once this week there are no paparazzi across the street, no media trying to catch me on my way out the door.
Then.
Tiffany does something she hasn’t done yet, stepping closer, putting her hand in the middle of my chest. Goes up on her tiptoes and leans in.