“You know you are,” he replies easily. “You just like to pretend you’re not.”
With that, he walks away to change and shower.
Without the game, I have nothing.
I’m sure a lot of these guys feel the same.
So I have to decide what I want more—to win the game and secure my spot on this team, or to shove Yokav’s face in the mess he’s made to show that he’s not free of consequences.
I feel Dawson’s eyes on me as I leave, and I can tell he wants to say something. He starts to, but stops himself at the last minute. Shaking his head, he disappears down a different corridor as I head toward the parking lot.
It gives me pause, and I wonder if Clarkson is right. If people do look up to me. I feel bad for every person who thinks I’mworth looking up to, because there are far better people in the world than me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Winter
Igape atmyself in the mirror as Kourtney fixes the curled pieces of freshly dyed hair. The pink is gone, much to my sister’s dismay. And maybe a little of my own. But when Janel told me I was expected to attend the gala, I knew the color would have to be a sacrifice for the sake of professionalism. It can always come back, even if I’m a little sad to see the boring blond that brings me no real joy.
“Wow,” I breathe, flattening my hands down the emerald-green velvet dress. There’s a small slit up the left side that goes to my knee, and the fabric hugs my body in all the right places. “This is beautiful, Kourt. Are you sure I should wear it?”
She sprays my hair, protecting my eyes as she plays with the loose curls. “Mom would have loved seeing you wear it. I’m just impressed the shoes fit.”
I pop my foot out to examine the silver pumps that our mother used to wear all the time. It was the perfect thing for tonight’s event. “Why?”
She snorts from behind me, and I meet her eyes in the mirror. “Your feet are massive, that’s why. You might as well be wearing the shoe equivalent of those magical pants from that stupid movie you loved so much as a kid.”
I gasp. “Don’t hate onThe Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants! The movies were so cute.”
She rolls her eyes. “They were about a pair of jeggings that were literally meant to stretch on every body type. And most of those girls were so annoying.”
Sometimes I’m sad we’re related. “You just don’t like seeing Alexis Bledel as anything other than Rory Gilmore.”
Kourtney nods once. “Damn right. And I stand by that, especially after you made me watchThe Handmaid’s Tale. I’m still traumatized seeing her like that.”
It’s my turn to scoff. “She’s an adult. She was bound to start taking on other roles. But that’s beside the point. I donothave giant feet. My feet are totally average.”
“Babes, you’re five foot three and a size nine shoe,” she retorts with amusement. “I’mtallerthan you and only wear a size seven.”
I refuse to acknowledge that as anything other than normal. “Whatever. I’m trying to be nice and thank you for sharing Mom’s things with me, and you’re ruining it.”
A small smile tilts her lips. “I’ll drop it. Unless you stretch out the shoes. Then I’ll never let you live it down.”
I try to kick her, but she dodges it and laughs when I nearly fall over.
She steadies me and grins when she gives me a once-over. “You look hot, sis. Like super hot. Your client won’t know what hit him tonight.”
I wince, and her grin drops. “That’s not exactly what I’m going for.”
“Why? He already got you off once. Why not let him—Wait!” She studies the flush on my cheeks that has nothing to do with the makeup she helped me apply earlier. “You’ve totally screwed him, haven’t you? Oh myGod! Did you give someone your virginity finally?”
I’m so glad we’re alone because I do not need Luca or Brad to hear this conversation.
“Shut up,” I whine, feeling the heat from my cheeks creep up the back of my neck.
“You did,” she squeals, jumping.
Literally. Jumping.
