“Come on, give me some credit. I’m an MVP jerk who plays baseball with any team willing to pay for my arm.”
I set my glass down, and my hands fly into the air. “See? Your arrogance is something else.”
“Confidence is a good thing to have, April.”
“I have confidence,” I say, quick to defend myself.
He doesn’t answer but instead shakes his head subtly, as if he's amused. “You stopped dancing the moment I came into the room.”
“Because you dampen the mood with your pure existence.”
The corners of his mouth twist as everything I say only seems to entertain him. “Well, on that note, I’ll let you be.” He propels his body off the window that he was leaning against and glides his way across the room with the champagne bottle hanging from one hand and his lips sipping from the glass in his other hand.
I don’t say anything, just watch him leave with derision written all over my face. When the door closes behind him, relief fills me, but I can’t seem to look away from the exit, as if he may just walk back in, and my eyes linger longer than needed on the door.
* * *
I'm slightlydizzy yet way too sober to be knocking on Spencer’s hotel room door. I don’t bang with elegance. I thought when he left an hour ago that I wouldn’t have to see him again until he shows up on a TV screen because of a baseball game.
“Spencer, open up.”
It takes only a few seconds before he complies. “Fuck, what in the world? I was recording a video of my arm flexes for my trainer.”
Gah, sounds like the perfect recipe for his egotistical ways. But never mind, I have bigger problems.
I barge in his direction, brushing past him into the room. “You have something that’s mine.” I pivot sharply to give him a death stare.
He walks slowly back into the room with the door clicking shut, while he drags the back of his fingers along his chin before a sinister smirk forms. “Is that so?” he rasps.
My hands land on my hips. “The hotel staff accidentally delivered the leftover cake to your room. Please, can I have the cake?”
His eyes squint at me, like I’ve said something crazy. “You came here for cake?”
“Yes! I wanted a piece. They said they would bring it up to my room.”
“Fine. But I keep the champagne.” He tips his nose in the direction behind me, indicating where the cake is sitting on a table.
I march on over and grab the fork to dig right in. Okay, maybe I am a little tipsy, and food is my refuge.
“God, this is so good.” I admit that I moan as I suck on the fork.
“You know my mouth may have been on that fork, but I’m sure that’s just your fantasy, right?”
I glance over my shoulder to find him sitting on the edge of his bed with arms crossed and a cunning grin.
“The only way I like your mouth is when it is taped shut.”
His eyes grow bold. “Kinky. I like that.”
I growl at his way of taunting. “Stop trying to piss me off more than normal.”
“What am I possibly doing now?”
“Y-you… you’re trying to egg me on by thinking I have some crush on you or some bullshit like that. I’m not other women, I don’t care who you are, and I certainly do not find you attractive. Besides, I’m not even your type.”
Why, April? Why did I even say that?
He only hums a sound, followed by a long pause. I feel like he is studying me. “You’re right. My type is overconfident chicks who don’t stop dancing on my account.”
