“And why would I do that?”
“Have I not been on my best behavior today?” He cocks his head slightly, the light hitting his eyes in such a way that highlights the unique color of them.
“Is that what you were doing?” It’s my turn to cock my head, trying to play cool and indifferent when I’m absolutely freaking out on the inside.
“Have dinner with me,” he repeats again, his thumb sliding across the back of my hand in a way that causes goose bumps to pepper my skin.
“I can’t. I have a game tonight.”
“Then I’ll come to your game and we can have dinner after.”
“My game isn’t until seven. It’ll be ten o’clock before I get out of there.”
“Okay, so a late dinner.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. A part of me—the part still completely enamored by one Macallan Stewart—desperately wants to accept. But the other part of me—the part that knows there’s no way this ends well—she’s not quite so convinced that this is a good idea.
“Come on. What do you have to lose?”
More than you realize, I think but don’t say.
“You’d really come to my game?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Seriously?” I don’t hide my surprise. “You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys watching women’s soccer.”
“I don’t. That is, unless there’s someone on the field worth watching.” He stares back at me with such intensity that I find myself pulling my hand from his in order to give myself a slight reprieve.
“Do I want to know which of my teammates you were there for?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Mais. We both know I was there for you.”
“Such pretty words,” I state flatly, having no intention of making this easy for him.
“They may be pretty, but they also happen to be true.”
“So you say.”
“I know what you’re doing.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of himself.
“And what’s that?”
“You’re trying to play hard to get.”
“Am I now?” I repeat his stance, pressing my back against the hard wood of my own chair as I cross my arms over my chest.
“You most definitely are,” he says, all too sure of himself. “And that’s fine by me. I’ve always liked achallenge.”
“Is that what I am to you then?” I arch a brow in question.
“Yes.” He disappoints me by saying. “But that doesn’t mean I have any intention of giving you up once I catch you.”
My pulse quickens at his words, despite every pore in my body screaming not to trust this... Not to trust him. I can’t stifle the involuntary reaction I have to him.
“Who’s to say you’ll ever catch me?” I hold a hand out in front of myself, looking over my nails like I couldn’t be any more bored by this conversation.
“Come now, Mais. We both know you can’t resist my charm.”
