“So you don’t regret sleeping with me then?”
Her face falls as she looks away.
“I wish I could say I didn’t regret it, but I do.”
It feels like she’s kicked me in the gut.
She stands up, so I do too. There’s not a lot of space between us. I step forward, making it even less. I can’t take my eyes off her mouth. “Hannah, I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to regret me.”
Her full lips part slightly. I want to claim them, as I did that night so long ago. Will she taste the same? Will she feel the same? I want to find out.
“Hannah,” I whisper, just as our mouths are about to touch.
“Han, I’ve got twenty to do your makeup because we’re going out tonight!” The door flies open and Hannah’s roommate—I’m guessing—comes in like a storm of energy and chaos.
Hannah jumps back, putting way too much space between us.
It’s probably a good thing too. I’m thinking things about Hannah that I’ve no business thinking about. Especially since she already regrets me once.
The roommate—Carlos—comes to a dead stop. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No!” Hannah exclaims loudly. “Not at all. Cally was just leaving.”
The way she slips so effortlessly into my nickname does things to me. Things it shouldn’t, especially since every other vibe I’m picking up from her is nothing but prickly.
Carlos gives me a slow up and down. “Why? He should come out with us tonight.”
I look down at my hoodie and joggers. Not exactly dressed for the club. “I ... uh ...”
“No, that’s quite alright. You have to get home. I’m sure you have training early in the morning or something.”
“I do get a day off every now and then.” Not that I take them, but she doesn’t need to know this. I should rest. Kenley keeps telling me I’m pushing too hard.
I don’t know how to stop.
“I’m not going out anyway. I’ve got work to do tonight.” Hannah crosses her arms over her chest. Actually, it’s slightly under her chest, making her breasts strain at the buttons of her white button-down.
It’s glorious.
“I thought you were off tonight. I made plans.” Carlos puts his hands on his hips.
Hannah turns to face him, like I’m not still standing right there. “I don’t have to go to work, but I need to work. You know, ClikClak. I’m trying to write some more material. I want to start sending inquiries to stations after the holidays. I need to have a great portfolio.”
Carlos lets out a dramatic sigh. “You’re right. You do need to get your house in order. I’m happy to see you’ve finally stopped moping and are taking the bull by the horns.”
Hannah’s face grows red. Her eyes shoot daggers at her roommate. “Got it. I’m lazy and unmotivated. Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Then, it’s as if she remembers I’m here. Finally facing me, she says, “Thanks for the ride. And thank you for the agent thing. It was a good sign for Xavier and Ophelia.”
I am summarily being dismissed. On the other hand, Hannah’s not usually forthcoming with praise. She’s not wrong in her assessment of Henry joining the team. “Yeah, well, he’ll be good for the Buzzards.”
“I know. You need him.” Her tone is aggressive like I’m not listening to her.
“I know. I’m agreeing with you.” My tone is matching her aggression, like we’re arguing instead of seeing eye to eye.
“Don’t you have to go?”
I try to read her expression. I’m used to staring opponents down, watching their body language, looking for their tells so I can determine which way they’re going to shoot. But with Hannah, there’s nothing giving it away.
It’s too bad she’s not still playing soccer. She’d make one hell of a penalty kicker.
