“Fuck you and your lame ass for not having sex with a hot football player when you have the chance.”
“Trust me, Flo. There’s no chance there. Not that I’d want to even if there were.”
She drags her bottom lip into her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Sure, I’ll be a good friend and pretend I believe you, Mae.”
We’ve got two days left volunteering at the animal shelter, and to say I’m disappointed is an understatement. I’ve loved spending my spare time here.
The camera flashes as we pose for another photo, and Nathan immediately steps away from me, almost as if touching me has burned him.
“Okay, we’re a little short today,” explains Sheila, her grey hair tied back into a neat bun. “Our vets are both busy on a course, and two more staff members are off sick, so you’ll see less of us wandering around. So far, though, you’ve all been amazing, and it’s an honour to have you.”
My heart blossoms with admiration. Sheila comes here almost every day. Sure, she gets paid, but the government doesn’t give her much. To her, that doesn't matter, though.
I can see the want in her eyes. The need to be here doing this. It’s the same thing I imagine sparks in me when thinking about working in an environment similar to this.
The same thing I imagined I’d see in Nathan’s eyes when out on the field, but he often looks dead behind them. Like he needs a fucking break.
I see the pain behind Bennett’s fake smile as Sheila suggests he and Poppy attend to the cats again, having no doubt he really executed all of the cleaning while Poppy spent the entire time cuddling the kittens.
He doesn’t sell her out, though.
“We’re happy to work with the dogs again,” I say.
The tension flows from Nathan beside me, his gaze lingering on me briefly as we walk down the corridor towards the dog kennels. Mr No name wiggles his butt from side to side, and he leaps into my lap after I open the door.
I glance up at Nathan, who is standing on the other side of the kennel, arms crossed, leaning back against the wall. He offers the dog a treat from his pocket before stepping back again.
“So… how are people responding to the photos?” I question, trying to fill the silence.
But also because I’m genuinely curious.
I’ve decided I’m not going to subject him to questioning today.
“The media seem to be happy with them.”
I’m not going to be part of the team forever, so it doesn’t affect me much. But that doesn’t mean I’m not glad the media seem to be laying off the Missarali Storks. I don’t like the idea of anyone being subjected to unnecessary scrutiny. I know how it feels.
“What are they saying?”
Nathan shrugs. “I don’t follow social media, but Bennett says they’re pleased with what we’re doing.”
“Well, I’m glad they no longer see you guys as dreaded soul-crushers.” A chuckle escapes me at the media’s dramatics. “I don’t get why they care that you guys mess around with women, anyway. You have money, looks and fame. Sleeping around is inevitable. There’s no issue with it.”
People have always been sensitive when it comes to sex.
A knot forms in my stomach as Nathan’s eyebrows knit together, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes slim. “I don’t mess around with women.”
I internally groan. I hadn’t meant it as an insult.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Not everything the media say about us is accurate, you know?”
I didn’t mean to offend him by stating he sleeps around. Nathan’s talented, rich, and gorgeous, and I have no doubt he has women snapping at his heels.
But then again, he always has his head so deep in the game. Perhaps he really does stay away from women.
“Nathan, I—” I stop talking as soon as I notice the blood on my hands, and Nathan’s eyes go wide as he takes a step forward, concern clear on his face.
