“Right, like that’ll ever happen,” Kean huffed, backing down. I chanced a glance over my shoulder to see more folks had gathered around.
“Guys, you’ve got to chill,” I whispered. “People are watchingandfilming.”
Brooker and Kean’s heads snapped up to look over at the crowd. A few folks had the sense to look away, dispersing under the spotlight of Kean’s glare. But some of the women just giggled and waved at Brooker. Noticeably, none of them waved at Kean.
“Sorry, guys. Kean thought I was being mean to his PA and got a little protective,” Brooker shouted over to them with a swoony smile. The women melted on cue, totally falling for Brooker’s whole thing.
“I’ll go smooth things over. Try out the whole friendly thing, yeah?” he said, clapping Kean on the shoulder before taking off to the women. Once he had them distracted, I turned on Kean.
“What the hell is going on with you?” I asked, poking at his chest.
“You were crying.” He shrugged, eyes on the ground.
“So you grab Brooker like you're gonna fight him?”
“If he made you cry, yeah, I’d fight him.”
I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be sweet or if he was just unhinged.
“How about we make a deal, huh? I promise to let you know if anyone on the team is being mean or makes me cry sad tears and you don’t fight anyone until then?”
Kean’s eyes widened. “You promise?”
“Yeah, sure. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that.” I mockingly crossed a finger over my heart and his shoulders relaxed.
“Okay. I won’t fight Brooker until you say so.”
“Is there bad blood between you and him?” He just shrugged in response. “No, seriously, Kean. Is there something up between the two of you? You seem to work fine on the field, but every time I see the two of you together, you’re at his throat.”
“He’s …” Kean crossed his arms and looked over at Brooker flirting with the moms. “He’s a player.”
“Okay, and?”
“And … he’s been trying to — it’s just … guy stuff.”
“Guy stuff?” I repeated with a laugh. “It seems like you hate the guy.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I just wish he’d butt out of …”
“Of?” I prodded when he didn’t immediately finish his sentence.
“Nothing. He’s just being irritating. I … asked him not to … bother you.”
“Well, he wasn’t. He was including me in team activities.”
“With ulterior motives,” he said under his breath and I rolled my eyes again.
“He knows I’m not interested in him, okay? So ease up, guard dog.”
“I wasn’t …” Kean started to say before sighing. “Sorry. I’ll try to … I’d say not let him get to me, but that seems unlikely.”
I snorted at his little comment and he looked back at me with something soft in his eyes, like he was surprised he was able to make me laugh.
“How about you try to ignore him and I promise to get you some noise blockers for next weekend.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly.
“Thank —” he started when a ball thunked against his back. Kean snapped around to see Brooker out in the field with a couple kids, looking sheepish and holding his hands out, pressed together. Kean’s hands balled into fists at his side.
