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“Friends?” She steps closer before driving a finger into my chest. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” There’s a pause. “I think you like her.”
I roll my eyes and try to make light of her suspicions. “What? Are we in middle school now? You want to know if I like her or like-like her?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” A knowing look settles across her face as she pats my cheek none-to-gently. “Don’t be ridiculous. I think you like-like her. I was just curious if you had enough balls to admit it.”
Sydney’s got enough on her plate with Ethan. She doesn’t need to worry about me. “Maybe you should—”
“Well, well, well...look who it is. Just the girl I was hoping to see.”
My voice trails off as Brayden sidles up beside us. He’s got eyes for one person, and it isn’t me. Sydney straightens to her full height which is still nine or ten inches shorter than Bray. The teasing expression vanishes from her face. Whatever information gathering mission she had been on is now forgotten.
My gaze flickers to my teammate as I assess the situation. His attention is solely focused on the blonde.
Hmmm. Interesting.
“Great,” she snaps. “Just who I was hoping not to run into.”
His smiles stretches into a full-on grin as if her less than enthusiastic greeting is exactly what he was hoping for. He makes a show of glancing around. “What? No boyfriend tonight?”
Her cheeks pinken. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s here.”
“You run him off already?”
She gnashes her teeth before baring them like a rabid animal. “He went to grab a drink. He’ll be back any minute. What’s it to you?”
Brayden shrugs before closing the distance between them. “If you were my girl, I sure as shit wouldn’t leave you to your own devices.”
“Fortunately, I’m not your girl,” she fires back.
“Never say never.”
“Are you totally delusional?” Her eyes flare wide. “There is no way in hell that I would ever be,” she uses air quotes, “your girl!”
My surprised gaze flickers from one to the other as the tension rachets up between them. It’s almost enough to choke on.
What the hell is going on here?
As interested as I am to see how this interaction plays out, now seems like the perfect time to slip away undetected. I suspect a bomb could go off and neither of them would notice.
Not bothering to say goodbye, I take off through the crowd, pushing my way toward the front door. I’m not sure what Brayden is up to. I’ve known the guy since training camp of freshman year. Sydney isn’t his usual type of girl. He’s used to jersey chasers and cleat sniffers who hang all over him and stroke his ego.
Sydney is the complete opposite of that. She’ll chew him up and spit him out if he’s not careful.
18
Demi
The doorbell chimes, and I pause the movie before jumping off the couch and grabbing the money from the credenza by the front door. Looks like the pizza has arrived. Thank God, I’m starving. Dad doesn’t keep a lot of snacks stocked in the pantry, which is exactly why I ordered a large pepperoni with extra cheese. There should be enough left over to get me through the weekend. Most of the time, I try to eat healthy. But after the week I’ve had, that’s been thrown out the window. Tonight, I’m going to eat my feelings. One slice at a time.
Thank you very much, Justin and Annica.
My belly rumbles in anticipation as I yank open the front door, ready to hand over the money in exchange for some ooey-gooey deliciousness. Hands down, One Hell of a Pizza is my favorite restaurant. It’s New York style with huge floppy pieces.
The more I think about it, the more my mouth waters.
Except...it’s not the pizza delivery guy I find waiting on the other side of the threshold. It’s the blond football player who has been occupying way too much of my thoughts lately.
“What are you doing here?” The question shoots out of my mouth before I can rein it in again.
His lips twist. “And a good evening to you, too.”
“Sorry.” Heat singes my cheeks as I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “You’re not who I was expecting.”
“Oh?” His brows slowly crawl up his forehead as his expression turns harsh. It disappears before I have a chance to decipher exactly what it means. “And just who were you expecting?”
“Pizza,” I offer in the way of clarification. Not that I owe him any. But still...the sudden tension crackling in the air feels stifling.
I hug the edge of the door as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It’s almost painful to admit how good he looks in the navy T-shirt that hugs the swells of his biceps and molds perfectly to his chest.
Focus, Demi!
