Her eyes widen to better catch my expression.
“You’re right. We didn’t do it. If we had, you wouldn’t be so bitter.”
“Bitter? Me?” I say, pointing to myself.
“Uh-huh,” she grunts, nodding and taking another sip of her coffee. “You’d be all happy, dancing around the house singing.”
I throw my head back in laughter.
“How did I end up here?”
“You couldn’t remember your address.”
“That’s true,” she says putting her hand to her head. “That open bar was a terrible idea.”
“That’s usually how it works.”
“And you? What were you doing there?”
Is she serious?
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“My brother,” she shrugs. “He convinced me to come.”
“Your brother?”
“Jamie Murray?” she says uncertainly.
She takes another sip of her drink and my throat constricts.
Fuck.
“Jamie Murray is your brother?”
I just brought my new captain’s sister home.
Perfect. They’ll kick me off the team for an entire season. Or he’ll break my leg at the first chance he gets.
“Yeah,” she responds distractedly. “I don’t even follow rugby. Jamie’s always trying to get me to go to the games but I can’t stand the idea that he gets hurt. I know it’s just sport but I prefer not to watch. I haven’t seen a game since he was a kid playing in the second division, but please don’t tell him that. He’s convinced I watch them all.” She says, shaking her head. “I hate the sport. All of it, honestly.”
“You can’t mean that…”
“And the players! So perfect, so perfectly arrogant, so dumb…” she says without considering her present company, and then looks up and bites her lip.
A few of my heart beats drop to the floor.
Shit.
“Don’t tell me,” she closes her eyes and her face goes bright red.
I shrug, trying to hide a smile.
“You’re probably famous, too.”
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry.”
