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She throws her hands onto her hips. “Do I have to go through with this date?”
“Yes. You won the auction,” I point out.
“Technically, I didn’t bid on you. Sadie did.”
“Your number won, not Sadie’s.”
She glares at me. “I have to work next weekend.”
“My game doesn’t start until seven o’clock. Broad Street Beans closes at five on Friday.”
I flash a wicked grin that pisses her off. She blows out a puff air, annoyed that I know her schedule so well. I know everything about her. Just because I have kept my distance over the years doesn’t mean I’ve lost interest. I regret telling her to leave and never come back that night. If I could take away everything I said to her while I was drunk and upset, I would. But I can see by the bitter, angry look on her face that it will take more than a date, and a few nice words and apologies she’s heard a hundred times, to forgive me.
I have to show her how much I’ve changed. Not that I did anything in the past that I need to correct. But I know Briana. She’s so worried about what everyone thinks about her that she never believed I cared about her. She wants to believe that I moved on with other girls, who she thinks is prettier, richer, or smarter than her. So, I guess I have to show her just how
special she is… to me.
“You’ve thought of everything, huh?”
I nod in response.
“I hate you,” she growls.
I shrug at her comment, which only fuels her anger.
Nostrils flared, her mouth twists into disgust. “Why do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Be so… you. So unaffected by everything and everyone. You act as if nothing bothers you when I know it’s all bullshit.”
“You’re bothering me right now,” I say with a wink.
She turns to leave, and I grab her arm, pulling her back to me. Her chest is pressed against mine, her big tits spilling out from her top. I love her curves, always did. She thought that was the one thing that made her undesirable when I worshiped every inch of her perfect body.
“Bri,” I say against her lips, feeling her racing pulse beneath my fingers.
She drags her teeth along her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle her nerves, when all it’s doing is making me want her more. Everything she does turns me on in some way. And she has no idea how much when she teases me with her simple gestures that drive me wild.
“Stop fighting me,” I say low enough for her to hear. Luckily, the rest of the room is occupied with their dates because Briana hates unwanted attention. “I’m not the bad guy.”
She snarls at my words. “Yes, you are.” Shaking me off, she slips out of my grip and takes a few steps back, her eyes still fixed on mine. “I meant what I said. I hate you. I’ll go on this stupid date with you because Sadie paid for it, and because I don’t want to disappoint her. But this means nothing. So, don’t bother trying to convince me that you didn’t do anything wrong and that you were the perfect boyfriend to me. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies or excuses about the past.”
“I never said I was perfect,” I admit. “Far from it, actually.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and sniffs as if fighting back tears. “I didn’t even want to come to the auction.” Her resolve slowly fading, she tilts her head to the side, averting my gaze. “I didn’t want to talk to you ever again. And for good reason.”
Briana’s had a hard life. She never lets anyone into her very sheltered, closed-off world, and so I know better than anyone how hard it was for her to let me in. I blew it. Or at least that’s how she sees it. I’m just another person to disappoint her, another person to crush her fragile heart.
I close the distance between us and cup her shoulder with my hand. She doesn’t run away this time. She’s more vulnerable now than I’ve seen in years. I can tell she hates showing me this side of her when she keeps her watery eyes pointed at the ground. But I know what to do to make her feel better. When I wrap my arm around her, she allows me to hug her. Regardless of the anger shaking through her, I hold her, attempting to quell the rage bubbling inside her.
“Come next weekend,” I say, stroking her brown hair with my fingers. “Please, I want you there. I need you there. You were always my good luck charm.”
She peeks up at me, her blue eyes glassy from fighting back tears. “I hate hockey.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
