Aura’s cheeks flushed faintly. “You’re both dramatic.”
“You’re smiling at him,” I whispered.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are,” Charm agreed. “And tomorrow we are dissecting every second of whatever weird emotionally constipated flirting thing you two have going on.”
Aura straightened her jacket instantly. “There’s nothing going on.”
Easton lifted one hand from across the room in a small wave and Aura waved back before she could stop herself.
Charm grabbed my arm hard enough to nearly dislocate it. “Oh shit, this is priceless.”
Aura looked horrified. “I hate both of you.”
“You love us,” I said automatically.
“Unfortunately.”
Briggs reappeared carrying shots. “Okay, before everyone starts confessing feelings and ruining the vibe, who’s playing beer pong?”
“Not me,” Aura said immediately.
“Coward.”
“Law student.”
“Same thing.”
“Beer pong!” somebody screamed from the dining room.
“Poker table’s full!”
“Who took my White Claws?”
“Hot tub!” another voice shouted from somewhere upstairs.
The entire house erupted again. And through all of it, Cade was still looking at me. Not intensely. Not weirdly.
Just steadily.
Like he noticed me in a room full of noise easier than he noticed anything else.
Which honestly should not have affected me as much as it did considering I had spent most of my life actively avoiding men exactly like him.
Athletes were fun until they weren’t and that was the problem.
Everybody loved hockey players when they were smiling in jerseys and signing things and buying girls drinks. Nobody talked enough about the ego underneath it all. The constant attention. The girls. The entitlement. The cheating that somehow always became the girlfriend’s fault eventually. I’d grown up surrounded by athletes between my brothers, their teammates, and Sutton County’s entire obsession with sports culture.
Different uniforms.
Same chaos.
Luke had confirmed every ugly thing I already believed. Which was why Cade Mercer being attractive was deeply inconvenient and absolutely irrelevant.
I would never date a hockey player.
The fact that my stomach apparently forgot that every time he looked at me was a separate issue entirely.
