The shoot takes longer than expected, but that's because Rob is good at his job. He doesn't direct much like he promised and just follows Liam around as he plays with the puppies.
He captures one puppy climbing into Liam's lap and gets a perfect shot of her curled against Liam’s chest while he strokesher. There's another one of Princess trying to chew on his shoelace while he laughs.
I stay out of the way, but my whole body turns to liquid as I watch Liam being impossibly sweet. The public will eat this up.
“Got it,” Rob announces after an hour. “These are great. You want me to send them to your email?”
“Please. And thank you, seriously.”
“Anytime. Good luck tomorrow.” Rob packs up efficiently and lets himself out, leaving me alone with Liam and six exhausted puppies.
The apartment feels suddenly too quiet.
“Avery.” He's close enough now that I can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body. It takes everything in me not to curl up against him and burrow my face in his chest. “We need to talk about Sunday night.”
“No, we don't.” I step back. “You were horny, I was horny.” I shrug, aiming for casual. “That's all it was.”
Liam's expression shutters, the openness disappearing. “Right,” he says flatly. “Just scratching an itch.”
His saying that turns my stomach, but that’s all this can be. “Exactly. No reason to complicate things.”
“Of course not.” His laugh is bitter. “Wouldn't want to complicate your perfect professional reputation.”
The barb stings. I grab my bag, suddenly desperate to leave before these walls I'm holding up start crumbling.
“See you tomorrow,” I say as I open the door. I don't wait for his response. In the elevator, I lean against the wall and close my eyes.
That was brutal. The look on his face when I called it meaningless. The way his whole body tensed like I'd physically hit him.
But I said what needed to be said. I drew the line that needed to be drawn.
As the elevator descends, I congratulate myself on my acting skills. He bought every word.
11
Liam
Practice is a disaster. I'm off my game, missing passes, taking stupid penalties in scrimmages. My head is somewhere else entirely, replaying the conversation with Avery, trying to figure out how she can be so fucking dismissive of what happened between us.
Except I've said worse. To how many women?Thanks for a fun night. I'll call you.Knowing I never would. Walking away without a second thought, while they probably stood there feeling exactly like I do now. Used and disposable.
This is karma, and she's making damn sure I feel every cut.
“Novak.” Coach yells after I miss an easy shot on goal. “Where the hell is your head today?”
“Sorry, Coach. Just tired.”
“Well, wake up. We play Detroit Thursday, and they're not going to go easy on you because you had a late night.”
I didn’t have a fucking late night. Not what you think anyway. The words form in my head, but no one would believe me even if I said them aloud. Not too long ago, I prided myself on my reputation. Now, it’s costing me the woman I want in my life.
Jake skates over. “You okay, man? You seem off.”
“I'm fine.”
“Right. That's why you just lost the puck in the offensive zone three times in a row.”
I take a long drink of water, trying to get my head straight. “Just distracted.”
