Page 107 of Offside Angle

The car isn’t even on.

I turn my head.

Santi’s standing there, looking at me through the glass.

I sigh, dropping my gaze to my lap for a second before I reach for the door handle and push it open.

“Out,” Santi says, calm but firm.

I blink at him. “Santiago… this is my car.”

“No, it’s not. It’s my car. Out. Now.”

I frown at his tone. Great. Now I’m getting scolded by him too. What a perfect fucking end to this day.

I roll my eyes and climb out, taking a step back to actually look at the car. It takes me a second to realize he’s right. This isn’t my car.

“Why the fuck do you leave your car unlocked??” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face.

Santi completely ignores the question. “What’s wrong?” he asks instead.

“Nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Nothing? Alright.”

The fact that he seems to believe me makes something in my chest twist even tighter. I watch, suspicious, as he walks around to the passenger side and opens the door for me.

“In you go.”

I narrow my eyes at him but get in anyway. Santi rounds the car, slides into the driver’s seat, and reaches into the back to grab his camera. He turns it on without saying anything and starts scrolling through the photos from tonight.

Most of them are of the game. Good shots. Clean. Powerful.

But then he keeps landing on Luca.

Over and over.

I watch as photo after photo of Luca fills the screen — Luca on the forecheck, Luca battling along the boards, Luca looking unfairly good even when he’s pissed off. My jaw gets tighter with every swipe.

I last maybe thirty seconds before it bursts out of me. “Okay! Fine! I don’t like the way you looked at him.”

Santi pauses. He lowers the camera slowly and sets it on the dash without looking at me.

“He’s very photogenic,” he says, and there’s the smallest trace of a tease in his voice.

I glare at him.

“Matteo,” he says, softer now. “Are you jealous, cariño?”

“No.”

Santi just raises an eyebrow again, patient and knowing.

I stare out the windshield for a second, before the word slips out quieter than I mean it to. “…Yes.”

“Why?” he asks quietly.

“BECAUSE!” I snap, the word bursting out of me before I can stop it. I stop there, because I don’t know how to keep going. I don’t know how to say any of this without sounding like a complete fucking idiot.