I gesture to Langley’s abandoned rack. “Why don’t you finish up and move along?”
“I don’t take orders from you.” A muscle in his jaw tics. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a captain on this team.”
And insecure enough to title drop every chance he gets.
“Exactly. Coach catches you harassing our guests, we’ll all be running laps ‘til we puke.” I make a show of scanning the room where our teammates are still grinding through their individualized programs. “No one will thank you for it.”
Not when College Park is in the middle of a heatwave and it’s hot as balls outside.
He grabs his water bottle from the rack and mutters, “Fuck you” as he stalks off.
“That guy’s a team captain?” Sutton sighs. “Why am I not surprised?”
“For the defense,” I say, combing sweat-damp hair from my forehead. She already thinks we’re a bunch of douchebags and now Langley’s proven it with his trash leadership and blatant sexual harassment.Fucking wonderful. “He’s an asshole, but he plays well and he’s just smart enough not to let Coach see what a dick he is.”
Maddie grimaces. “I’m sure all the guys on the team aren’t like him.”
Facts. Reid is a great captain and he wouldn’t tolerate that shit on the offense. Hell, he’s the one who poached our new kicker from the women’s soccer team.
“You know what they say.” Sutton flashes me a syrupy smile. “One rotten apple spoils the bunch.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
She shrugs. “I call them like I see them.”
Maddie’s focus pivots from her roommate to me and back again. When she stops, she’s grinning like the goddamn Cheshire Cat.
“Sounds like y’all need to clear the air.” She flicks a finger back and forth between Sutton and me. “I’m gonna go do press handstands so you can get started on that.”
I don’t have the first idea what a press handstand is, but she’s not wrong about clearing the air. It’s like every time I run into this girl—into Sutton—I say or do the wrong thing.
It’s frustrating as hell.
Maddie gives me a little finger wave before sauntering off.
I open my mouth to apologize for Langley’s behavior, but Sutton cuts me off. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Helping.”Obviously. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.” She plants her hands on her slender hips and why the fuck am I looking at her hips when she’s giving me the third degree? “You think I can’t handle a guy like that? Dios mío. He wasn’t even original with his gross, misogynistic jokes.”
I give silent thanks she doesn’t elaborate. The urge to throat punch Langley is real, and something tells me the details of their exchange will only strengthen that desire.
“I have no doubt you can handle guys like Langley.” God knows she has no problem handing me my ass. “The point is, you shouldn’t have to.”
Her eyes go wide, but she recovers quickly. “Whatever. Just don’t go thinking three seconds of pseudo feminism is going to get you on my good side.”
“You have a good side?” She scowls and a quiet chuckle escapes my lips.This fucking girl. “Seriously though. Do you hate all football players, or is it just me?”
She bites her lower lip, and the thrill of victory races up my spine, but when she finally speaks, it’s a total copout.
“I plead the fifth.”
Well, shit. It’s just me then. What the hell did I ever do to her?
A bead of sweat slides down my temple and I swipe it away with the hem of my shirt, frustration gnawing at my gut. I’m not Mr. Perfect, but I’m a decent guy.
Friendly. Laid-back. Fun.
