“That had nothing to do with—”
“You drove so far, after seeing me on Grindr.” He pushes off the counter. Takes one step toward me “After everything that happened.”
“Back up.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m telling you to.”
“Or what?” The smile is gone now. His voice is even. Certain. “You’re going to punch me again? Go ahead, Jamie. Give me another reason to walk into Fitch’s office. The way I see it, I own you right now.”
I go very still. There it is. Right there in the open between us. He knows it and I know it and the knowing is sitting on hisface like something he’s just realized he can use. I step into his space. Close. Too close. My voice drops to almost nothing.
“You say one word,” I say. “One word to anyone about tonight, about any of this, and I will make the rest of your time on this team so miserable you’ll wish you’d stayed at Eldridge. Are we clear?”
Something flickers across his face at the mention of Eldridge. Gone fast. He holds my gaze and doesn’t move back an inch.
“Crystal,” he says. Dangerously.
I hold it for one more second.
Then I grab my keys off the table by the door where I apparently set them down like I was planning to stay, yank the door open, and walk out into the cold night air. I drive the forty five minutes back in complete silence. And I don’t think once.
Because if I think, I’ll have to admit what just happened in that house. And I’m not ready to do that yet. Not even close.
So I go home and immediately delete my profile.
I can’t sleep.
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, the darkness doing absolutely nothing to quiet my brain, which has decided that tonight is a great night to replay every single second of the last couple hours on a loop.
That grin.
That specific, infuriating, knowing grin.
The way I see it, I own you right now.
He said it out loud. To my face. And the worst part — the part that’s keeping me awake and useless at whatever ungodly hour this is — is that he’s not wrong.
I toss over onto my side.
Toss back.
Okay. I need a plan. Something that doesn’t involve me killingRhys Callahan with my bare hands, because that would definitely cost me captain permanently and probably also my freedom, and I’ve already lost one of those things this week.
I stare at the ceiling some more.
The universe hates me. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense at this point. I’m gay, in a sport full of people who would love a reason to make my life difficult. I was captain — was, past tense, temporarily, allegedly — and now I’m lying in the dark at midnight because I swiped right on my own teammate on a dating app I downloaded specifically to avoid anyone I could possibly know.
Out of millions of guys on Grindr.
Millions.
I swiped right on Rhys Callahan.
I’m a joke. I’m an actual joke. I should start volunteering somewhere — soup kitchens, animal shelters, anything — just to get some good karma back on my side because whatever I did in a past life to deserve this must have been terrible. Criminal, probably. Or this is immediate payback for punching him. Which, at this point, maybe I do deserve it then.
I toss over again.
