Conrad’s quiet for a moment, studying me. Then, “It feel good? Throwing that punch?”
I look at him, surprised by the directness.
“Yeah,” I admit. “It did.”
“I get it.” He takes another drink. “Sometimes punching something is easier than dealing with whatever’s actually wrong.”
I look away. Wow, he’s lethal.
“Kane. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Just focused on the game.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in his face, in the way his eyebrows rise slightly and his mouth tightens. Yeah, I don’t believe me either.
Mostly because that kiss with Chloe won’t stop looping in my head. What. Was I. Thinking?
I wasn’t. And that’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking, just feeling.
And it felt good.
“This have anything to do with Chloe?” he asks.
My hand tightens on the glass, condensation making it slippery. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’ve been staring at your phone all week, and you haven’t sent a single text.”
Nothing gets past Conrad Kingston.
“It’s complicated,” I say finally.
“Relationships usually are.”
“We’re not—” I stop. What are we? “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
Because it started as a business arrangement. Because there’s a contract with an end date. Because that’s what is best for her. And probably me.
Because I’m terrified.
“We had a fight,” I say. It’s not exactly true, but it’s close enough. “Sort of. I don’t know.”
“Did you say something stupid?”
“I said nothing. That’s the problem.” I run my good hand through my hair, still slightly damp from my own shower. “I’ve been avoiding her. Ignoring her texts.” Being a coward.
“Why?”
The question is simple. The answer isn’t.
“Because I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, staring at my bruised knuckles instead of at him. “I’m not good at this.”
Conrad is quiet for a moment, the ice in his Coke shifting as the bubbles settle. “Hard to live up to your own press.”
I glance at him. “Something like that.”
Conrad turns to face me, leans forward. “I’m going to tell you something, and you’re going to listen. Okay?”
