Page 102 of Offside Angle

Matteo narrows his eyes at me, clearly trying to decide if he’s going to protest or not. Finally he grumbles under his breath and climbs in, muttering “bossy photographer” as he settles into the seat.

I smirk, satisfied, and close the door. When I get in on the driver’s side he’s still pouting, arms crossed. “You’re lucky I like you,” he mutters.

I start the car, glancing over at him with a smile. “I know.”

The drive isn’t long. I rented this apartment on purpose — close enough to the arena that I can wake up early, grab my camera, and get some quiet shots of the empty rink before the boys start rolling in. It’s convenient. And right now, it’s also very convenient for other reasons.

Matteo is trying to gather his thoughts, probably plotting some kind of comeback, when we pull into the players’ lot. The second the car stops he reaches for the door handle.

I reach over him and close it again before he can open it properly. He blinks at it, confused.

Then I get out, walk around to his side, and open the passenger door for him myself.

“When you’re with me,” I say, leaning against the open door with a small, cheeky smirk, “you don’t touch this door.”

Matteo stares at me like I just spoke another language. He slowly climbs out, looking at me with that perplexed little frown.

“I’m not a girl, Vega,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

I close the door behind him and step in closer, lowering my voice just enough that only he can hear. “I know,” I murmur, eyes flicking down to his mouth before meeting his again. “That’s exactly why I’m doing it.”

His ears go a little pink. He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but I just raise an eyebrow and tilt my head toward the arena doors.

“Move it, Rivera.”

We make it to the film room early. Not everyone’s here yet—just Damian, Elias, Cole, and Vik scattered around the long table with laptops and coffee cups. Damian gives us a nod as we walk in. Elias immediately wears the smug little expression of someone who already knows something. Vik just raises an eyebrow.

Cole, on the other hand, zeroes in on Matteo with terrifying efficiency. His attention flicks from Matteo to me, then back again before dropping to the black button-up hanging off Matteo’s shoulders.

His expression shifts into pure dramatic horror. “You gotta be kidding me,” he says. “Is that his?”

Matteo glances down at the shirt, apparently only now remembering what he’s wearing, then immediately finds something else in the room to focus on. “Maybe,” he mutters.

Cole spins toward me, one hand dramatically pressed to his chest. “Oh my god,” he says, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “You defiled my friend!!”

I snort, completely unbothered, and drop into the seat across from him. “Good morning, Hollywood.”

Cole stares at me in appalled disbelief. Elias is already laughing into his coffee, while Vik tries to hide a smirk behind his hand. Even Damian looks mildly amused, though he’s pretending to focus on his laptop.

Matteo slides into the chair next to me, and kicks Cole lightly under the table. “Shut up,” he grumbles.

Cole leans forward. “I’m watching you, Vega,” he warns, pointing two fingers at his own eyes and then at me. “One wrong move and I’m coming for you.”

I just raise my coffee cup in a little toast. “Noted.”

Matteo groans and drops his head onto the table.

Damian finally glances up from his laptop, eyes landing directly on me. “Why are you here? I didn’t call you.”

I shrug, completely unbothered. “Had to drop him off, didn’t I?”

Matteo makes a strangled noise and slams his forehead down onto the table so hard the whole thing rattles. His ears are bright red.

Elias loses it. “Oh my god,” he shrieks, delighted. “Our ladies’ man is whipped!!”

Matteo blindly grabs the nearest thing — a crumpled paper cup — and chucks it at Elias without lifting his head. It bounces harmlessly off Elias’s chest.

Damian just sighs like this is all beneath him. “You can go, if you want,” he tells me, already looking back at his screen.