This?
This is fun. Short-term. Only fun.
The hot sauce is more serious than our relationship is.
And that’s completely and totally fine.
It’s so fine, I can’t stop sayingfine.
And I think that pretty much says it all.
25
Fletcher
My ass is on fire.
TMI, but it’s the truth.
And it’s a truth that everyone in the changing room is well aware of.
“Fucking hell, Huxley, what did you do in there?” Holt snaps as he comes out of the bathroom and into the changing room.
“My business,” I reply.
I hope Goldie’s not feeling this the same way I am. I don’t care that she technically started it. I’d be a flaming asshole—and trust me, those are ugly—if I wished anything like this on her.
She’s—just—fuck.
I like her.
And not because Ihave a type.
“Do your business at your own house.” Holt waves a hand in front of his face. “Jesus. I thought my nose was dead, but apparently not. What thefuckdid you eat?”
“Hot sauce.”
“Don’t fucking do it again.”
“Thanks for making sure I’m okay. Appreciate it.”
He stares at me like he’s debating tackling me during training for shits and giggles.
Neither of which I would like to do again for the rest of today.
“Youfucker,” Silas snarls as he charges into the changing room. “Stay thefuckaway from my daughter.”
I pull off my shirt and glance at him while I grab my training kit.
Dude’s livid.
Holt leaps to hold him back, but the captain’s giving me a look.
I’ve clearly now earned two spots on his shit list.
“Brittany told Goldie it was okay,” I say.
Calmly.
