“Drink it!” I bring the cup up to his face, but he’s pulling back my arm, the cup tilting dangerously as I try to get the rim to his lips.
“I refuse!” He holds his head up high, stretching his neck as if the water will burn him, his legs getting involved and clumsily trying to wrap around me.
It’s like trying to give a toddler a bath, but the toddler is a 180lb fully grown man. And can also do drunk judo.
During our impromptu wrestling match, water sloshes everywhere. It goes over the counter, over the floor, a bit over Colten—nowhere near his mouth, of course—but mostly over me.
The cold water I got to help sober him up soaks straight through my shirt, clinging to my skin as the cup drops onto the ground, empty.
For a moment, we both freeze before Colten looks down at my wet shirt plastered against my chest and gives me the widest, smuggest, and most asshole-ish grin.
Something inside my brain quietly explodes, just a little.
I crowd forward, boxing him against the counter, my arms land on either side of him as water drips down my shirt and seeps into my pants.
Colten’s grin fades slightly as our chests press together, my soaked shirt now making his own shirt wet.
His eyes are wide as he looks up at me. I ignore the weird tight feeling in my chest and focus on being mad, because I am! I’m very mad!
“Why have you been such a dick to me all week?” I demand, unable to hold back any longer.
His expression shuts down, and he looks away, his mouth a thin line. My eye twitches.
“You’ve been avoiding me, like I have the plague or something,” I continue, watching every minute expression on Colten’s face.
“Is that why you forgot our session?” he shoots back, glaring at me. “To get back at me for not paying attention to you 24/7?”
I groan. “No, I actually forgot! And I apologized! Don’t change the subject, you asshole.”
“I’ve been busy,” he lies, like an absolute lying liar.
“Bullcrap,” I say, fed up with this. “I know your finals are done, and it’s not like you’re going out to parties. You’re just hiding in your room!”
His gaze flashes. “Or maybe I’m trying to solve the unknown magic you got us caught up in?”
I swallow hard, but he’s not done and says, “But if I were out getting drunk and wasting time like you, that would be better?”
Why did I think talking this out was a good idea? I should’ve just let him keep avoiding me. Ignorance is bliss. Silence is peace.
This—this is whatever the opposite of peace is.
Then Colten asks quietly, “Are you even planning on going pro anymore?”
That hits me like a punch.
“What?”
“You’ve been slacking,” he says, watching me with a frown.
“I have not!” Okay, maybe a little, but I was injured! I really don’t want to reinjure myself.
“You skipped PT.”
“One time!”
He stares at me. “Patrick.”
I drag both hands through my hair, exasperated.
