“Oh—sure. Sounds, uh, great.” I sound dumb and unsure when I say it, closing the door behind me. But I mean it. Anything sounds better than sitting around with my own idiocy.
“Cool.” He nods, and I fall into step beside him. “You feeling okay for tonight?”
I pull my phone out again—maybe I can unsend the message. “Yeah, yeah for sure.”
“Should be an interesting game, I mean Yasuko is back from injury—” Joel cuts himself off when he gets to the elevator at the end of the hall, cocking his head. “Miller? You alright? You’re ... staring really ... uh, intently, at your phone.”
“Uh, yeah. All good, sorry.” I shrug, locking the screen so I don’t keep looking down. “I just ... sent a stupid message, that’s all.”
He lifts his brows. “You unsend it?”
“It’s, uh—” I scrape a hand through my hair. “Probably too late for that.”
“The girl from the game?”
“Ren,” I correct, cutting him a look when the elevator door opens.
“Sorry. Ren. She’s got a name, you’re right.” He flashes me his palms. “She your girlfriend?”
Dropping against the wall of the elevator, I knock my head against the mirrored surface. “Girlfriend doesn’t seem like it would ever be the right term for someone like her. But, uh, no. We’re just ... friends. Helping each other out.”
He shoots me a doubtful look as the doors close, and I roll my neck to face him, cracking a tired grin. “What? You don’t believe I could be just friends with a pretty girl? Miller Colson-Burke likes pretty girls, and all that?”
Joel frowns, a crease sketching between his brows. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh, uh—sorry.” I give a jerky shake of my head. “Just something dumb her ex said after the gala.”
“He was there?” Joel leans against the wall beside me, one foot kicked up.
I toss my phone in the air, catching it, but I don’t turn on the screen. “Uh, yeah. He’s a ... dinosaur guy too.” I don’t really feel like giving Scott his proper title, doesn’t seem like it’s something he deserves, seeing as he stole the job from Ren.
“Which one? Olson introduced me to almost everyone.” Joel considers, angling his head.
“Uh.” I blink, trying to remember what he was wearing. “His name’s Scott. He had on, uh ... a tux.”
Joel snaps his fingers, eyes flashing with recognition, and he turns to me. “He had really bad shoes.”
I splay my arms wide. “That’s what I said!”
“Kinda shitty, working with your ex. Been there. Dated a teammate once. Terrible idea. But at least he didn’t have bad shoes,” Joel muses. “If you’re not together, what’s your deal?She was at the last home game. I see pictures of you guys doing random shit. At pub trivia. In the grocery store. You brought that trophy ... seemed sort of like you were flirting with her on social.”
“Oh, uh, friends do that sort of thing.”
He cuts me a knowing glance when the doors open into the lobby. “You flirt with your friends?”
“Yeah, you haven’t noticed?” I deflect, tugging on the ends of my hair.
“We’re friends now?” he snorts, tipping his chin as he starts towards a café at the edge of the lobby.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I shrug a shoulder, following.
“Okay then as your friend”—he widens his eyes—“I should probably tell you, you’re a really shitty liar. You blush every time someone mentions her.”
My hand stills, tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck—which definitely feels hot. “No, I don’t.”
“You’re blushing right now.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m getting coffee with Joel Borges, highest strike percentage in the league.”
