“You know, that's what I don't get,” Rosalie huffed out a long breath. “You're supposed to be a playboy, yet I haven't seen you be a man whore. And a guy who is supposed to be the nice and kind person I met in Biology, he's even smart... yet he...”
I watched her face, the pain and confusion furrowing her brows and creating waves of creases on her forehead. I wanted to reach out to smooth them, but as her brother's teammate, that wasn’t part of my job. My job was to deliver her to safety, and I did just that.
“Guys are assholes, Thorn.”
“What's worse is, most of you are proud of it,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“Still don't want to talk about it, while we are talking about it?” I tilted my head to the side, observing her.
Rosie bit into her bottom lip. “I just don't get it.”
“What don't you get?” I asked back.
“What's wrong with me... why do guys act like they care when all they want is to get inside my pants. I'm so much more than my pussy. Yet as soon as they hear I'm a dancer, they assume I'm flexible and great in bed.”
I forced myself to remain silent, to allow her space to work through her inner turmoil on her own.
“I don't get why I give that impression to guys that I'm one of those sorority girl types who want to hook up. I don't think I'm bad at flirting, and I'm sure as hell not telling them I want hot, passionate sex. So, where this misconception is coming from is beyond me.”
Rosie lifted her blue eyes to meet mine, coaxing a reply out of me.
“Yeah, I have no clue,” I muttered. How was I supposed to tell her that guys didn’t really give a damn about impressions? They saw something and went for it with their own agenda in mind. I didn't blame them. Rosalie was a delicate beauty who intrigued everyone. Especially with the contrast her brown hair created with her blue eyes, making them pop and attracting all the guys. The problem was that she didn't know how to use her charms.
“Well, you're a man whore,” she motioned at me with slight disgust on her lips. “Why do you do it?”
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably and moved my aching foot to straighten it. This was going to be a long conversation.
“No offence, but I don't need to lie to girls to drop their panties. Usually, they show up without them, begging me to fuck them.”
“You're a pig,” Rosie snorted, turning away. “Is it so bad I want a normal guy? Like Liam, Max, or Alfie,” she listed some of the guys from the soccer team who were in stable and happy relationships. Those one in a million motherfuckers who found love and hung onto it.
“I don't know what you want me to tell you, Thorn,” I shrugged. “You have probably realized by now there is no such thing as a Prince Charming, and no one is coming to save you in this world.”
She remained silent for a beat, the truth of my words hanging between us in the small, enclosed car.
“You came,” she muttered, her eyes finding mine, before a resigned breath left her. “But you only came because Aaron sent you.”
I didn't correct her because I didn't owe her anything. And the worst thing you could do is make people expect something from you. I didn't want that pressure. It was bad enough thatI had to work through this injury and play well this season to prove myself on the field. Soccer was the only place I ever wanted to deliver on expectations. Everywhere else, no thank you.
“Anyway, thanks for the... ride.”
“Anytime, Thorn.” I flashed her a sweet smile, making her roll her eyes.
This was good, this was safe. This was us.
“You know,” she turned back around instead of leaving my car, and I took a sharp inhale. “You could be such a nice guy if you wanted to be.”
“I am a nice guy,” I chuckled, mirroring her position facing me. “Just because I like sex doesn’t mean I'm not a nice guy. You would love sex too if you tried it with me.”
“And then you go and say shit like that,” Rosie groaned, making me laugh. Her cheeks grew pink, like they always did when I brought up sex, and I had this small nagging voice telling me she was way more inexperienced than she let on. It wouldn't surprise me if she were waiting for someone to meet her crazy standards.
“At least I'm consistent,” I winked.
“Consistently a pain in my ass,” she muttered, a small smile touching her lips. “Have a good evening.”
“This is the third time you said goodbye. Are my charms keeping you here?”
“You wish.” She didn't even roll her eyes this time, but with a smile on her lips, she pushed the car door open.
