Page 100 of Scarred

Thumbing over the keyboard, I type back.

Me

Now?

I watch him text back, and when my phone vibrates again, his eyes are anything but innocent.

Looking down, I read what he sent.

Mr. Booty Call

Yes now. You’re not backing out of our deal, are you? There’s so much more fun to be had.

I bite my bottom lip as excitement sneaks its way in. It doesn’t take me long to know my answer.

Me

I’m not backing out. What’s the plan?

He reads my text, and the corner of his mouth twitches with amusement.

Mr. Booty Call

Head to the bathroom. I’ll find you in five.

He pockets his phone and does a damn good job at giving nothing away as he takes a drink of his bourbon.

Glancing at our table, everyone is so engrossed in one of Miles’s band tour stories that no one is even paying us the slightest bit of attention.

Leaning over to Sophia next to me, I whisper in her ear.

“I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom.”

“Want me to come with?” She asks, turning her head in my direction.

“No, I’ll be fine,” I smile. “Stay and enjoy the rest of the story.”

Cayden sets his drink down on the table, and her eyes shift to him before landing on me again. My warm face and restless body language must give me away because a knowing smile stretches across her face.

“I’ve got you covered,” she winks.

“Thanks,” I giggle. It’s useless to deny I don’t know what she’s talking about, so I don’t even try. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Travis and Sophia had hooked up in a bar before. It would actually surprise me more if they hadn’t.

Standing up, I sneak away undetected and head toward the restroom signs. When I get to the hallway, I’m unsure of where to go, so I stand off to the side to wait.

An arm reaches out to grab me a minute later, and before I have time to react, I’m in the shadows around the corner with a large frame blocking my view.

“You’ve got to stop doing that to me,” I whisper, putting a hand to my pounding chest when I recognize Cayden.

He just grins as his hand leans against the wall above me, caging me in. It’s the first time we’ve been able to be alone in days, and you can feel the electrified energy in the air.

“Hi,” he says quietly, fingering the strings of his hoodie.

“Hi,” I smile. My hand instinctively goes to his cheeks as I palm his face where the stick hit. “Are you hurt anywhere?” I peer at him up close to see if there is any evidence.

“No, why?” He chuckles.

“You took a beating tonight. That game was so not fair,” I fume. “What happened to no touching the goalie?”