“It’s not like we have anything else to do. You might as well give me an answer.”
And then, completely out of play, the woman raises her flag and holds two fingers to the headset at her ear. “Caution for dissent.”
“Caution for—” I whip around to the center ref, who’s standing next to the man on the ground, along with a medical team, but he’s looking right back at me. “Did you just—” I clamp my mouth closed and whip my gaze toward the field.
The center official walks toward us, hand in his pocket.
“No, Maggie, you didn’t,” I say, but she has. She’s calling a foul on me for arguing. For some odd reason, I feel completely betrayed. We aren’t friends. Never have been. It isn’t the first unworthy foul that’s been called on me by this woman.
“Whoa—” Callum runs up beside the referee. “We weren’t even in play. Sir, can we get an explanation?” As our captain, he’s allowed to ask. I’m not. It doesn’t matter. I have nothing tosay. I can’t stop staring at the woman who’s thrusting this upon me.
“Clock’s running, and apparently so is Cruz’s mouth,” the man says. “Tell your defender to keep his mouth shut around my sideline ref.”
“Maggie,” I plead again, as if she might listen, as if she might save me.
But per usual, the woman stares ahead. She doesn’t bother looking at me as the center ref’s hand goes up, card in hand.
Game’s over,and I’m still in shock. “I can’t believe Maggie did that,” I say. I’m standing in the locker room with nothing but a pair of sweats on. It’s warm in here.
“Seriously?” Zev says, seated on the bench in front of me. “You can’t? Because just the other day you were saying?—”
“I know,” I groan. It’s not like it’s unlike her. So why do I feel this way?
“Lucca.” Roman wraps one arm around my neck. “You go from having nothing nice to say to her or about her to wanting to learn about her life. She was caught off guard. She was waiting for the bomb to drop.”
“No one can say the problem is me. I tried,” I say, and it’s possible my pride is a little hurt. Instead of an answer, I got carded. “So much for moving past our grievances.”
“Do you actually want to?” Callum asks, fully dressed and ready to go. Roman is dressed, too. These guys are always in a hurry. They’ve got to get home to their wives. At least Zev’s taking things slow.
“I’m curious. And I’m not so stubborn. I’d be willing to change my tune—if she were.”
Callum’s brows lift. I think I’ve surprised him. Or maybe hedoesn’t believe me. I’m not sure I believe myself. My dislike for McCrae runs deep. But things have changed. At least, a little. I just want a few answers. Just so I can sleep at night. It has nothing to do with those gold flecks in her eyes or the freckles on her cheeks.
“You guys are all coming tomorrow night. Right?” Roman slips into his jacket. He’s quick to change the subject and ready to head home. I’m not even dressed yet. I need to sort through this Maggie thing. And my best friend is leaving me.
“Rosalie and I are planning on it,” Zev says.
“Us, too.” Callum gives Roman’s shoulder a friendly smack.
That’s right, tomorrow… “Stella’s art show, right?” I say.
“Are you bringing a date?” Zev asks, a smile on his face. He’s been a little punch-drunk since he and Rosalie became official. It took her a minute. Something to do with her ex, Robert the vampire. Or maybe Fran said he wasn’t a vampire. I don’t remember.
“Ahh—” My instinct kicks in with a yes. But I stop it. Sure, I like having a date, especially now when I go out with the guys and they all have serious commitments on their arms. My charm, looks, and overall Lucca wit usually make finding a date easy, too. But the wheels in my brain are turning. I struck out talking to McCrae on the field. Maybe if I weren’t in a soccer uniform, she’d be more willing. “I’m not sure.” I lick my lips and turn to Callum. “You said Fran knows Maggie. She has her number?”
“Yeah. So?” Callum’s brow furrows.
“Tell Fran to invite her to the show.”
“Why?” Callum says, his tone full of skepticism. “Is this about revenge? Or winning over the one girl who doesn’t like you? I think I like her too much to be involved with either of those scenarios.”
“Come on. I’m not going to torture her. Promise.”
Callum huffs, but he doesn’t appear to be giving in. And sure, I’ve hated on Maggie for a long time. I’m not even sure I’m done disliking her. But I don’t want her to come to Stella’s show for torture’s sake. I want to be able to ask the woman a question without five-year-olds distracting us or without getting carded. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get an answer.
“You’re obsessing,” Zev says.
“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look like I don’t care. “I’m not obsessed.” And there’s more than one way to get what I want.
