“If you do?”
“Then I guess I’ll have to tolerate your presence.” This time, I shrug.
The air gets sucked out of my lungs when he steps closer and whispers in a low voice, “You sure you can handle that?” He tilts my chin up, his touch sending shock waves as he stares down through his heavy lashes at me.
God, he’s gorgeous.
“I can handle worse,” I say, my voice resolute as I do my best to hide his effect on me.
His face transforms into a grin as he takes a step back. “We’ll see about that.”
“We certainly will.” My eyes narrow at him.
“Again, can I offer you anything to make up for my mistake?”
“No.” His glacial eyes turn down, losing a little spark, and for some unknown reason, I despise that. He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, “No, I don’t need anything from you.”
My harsh tone evaporates all the guilt and playfulness from his body as his own features set hard, annoyance making home in his demeanor.
Without giving him a chance to reply and ruin my day further, I walk out of the building without giving him a second glance. Simply because he doesn’t deserve one. He took away my only shot at my dream, and for that, he doesn’t get to apologize, only for him to sleep easier at night.
I will never forgive him.
One
Ezra
Present
Devil reincarnate.
That’s what that red-haired demon is. And I hate her with a passion.
What I hate even more, though, is the fact that she’s laughing her heart out, sitting at the table across from me, like she doesn’t annoy me just by being in my vicinity. And now I have to listen to her laugh, too.
Can’t a man enjoy a night out with his team after getting a W against the Seattle Strikers?
My brows furrow when shethrows her head back again at whatever that dude with blond hair and big eyes whispers in her ear. I never see her laughing at my jokes.
What even is that funny? His existence?
I don’t understand why she has to look so stunning that not a single person who’s attracted to women can keep their eyes off her, not even if they tried.
The warm light reflects off her fiery hair, as the curve of her swan-like neck glints under the light. I wonder what it would feel like to sink my teeth into it.
My eyes widen at my own thoughts, but I do nothing to stop them.
“Just a little more force, and I’m sure you will crush this glass of IPA with your bare hands.” Noah, my goalie and best friend, speaks in a voice dripping with sarcasm in my ear, successfully diverting my attention as my hold loosens on the glass I didn’t realize I was clutching so tightly. “And quit glaring at the poor dude. He’ll turn to ashes at this rate if you don’t turn down your intensity a notch.”
His words make me clench my jaw at being caught doing something as juvenile as glaring. But I continue with the act when I reply, “Careful, your mama-hen attitude is showing.”
And being the man who never shies away from calling it as he sees it, he retorts, “Careful, your obsession with the redhead is showing.”
My glare turns to him, to which he only reacts with a wink. His chocolate-colored eyes shine with mischief as the light reflects off his golden hair.
Knowing my tough attitude won’t work on him, I drop my head between my shoulders and exhale a long breath. His hand reaches out to give my back two sympathetic pats before he withdraws, engaging in conversation with the other guys.
Noah has always been the one to get me on the right track whenever it looks like I might veer off the wrong path. He’s thirty to my twenty-six and has been playing for the team longer than I have, yet nothing ever seems to come between our friendship.
