Page 85 of Faking the Goal

Taylor gives a short laugh. "Yeah, because dating worked out so great last time. I'm good. Thanks. The whole thing is too stressful for me."

"I could set you up," Luke offers. "I know some good guys."

My grip tightens around my stick.

Every muscle in my body tightens as a bizarre thought barrels into my head with all the subtlety of a freight train.

Take his phone later. Delete every male contact in it.

Better yet, factory reset the whole thing.

No... Smash it. Into tiny, unrecoverable pieces.

Then maybe throw whatever remains into the nearest lake just to eliminate any possibility of data recovery.

...Shit.

What the hell am I thinking?

I scrub a hand over my face and shake my head as though I can physically dislodge whatever unhinged thought process just took over. Somewhere in the last ten seconds, my brain had gone from Luke wants to play matchmaker to destroy every possible avenue through which he could introduce Taylor to another man.

Why does the mere idea of Taylor meeting another man make something inside me react like this?

It feels primitive. Instinctive. Like some territorial creature I'd never met before suddenly woke up inside my chest, shoved logic aside, and declared violence to be the most reasonable course of action.

My jaw slowly clenches.

And then it hits me.

Jealousy.

The realization settles over me with startling clarity.

I've never been a jealous person. Never had a reason to be. But this...

This is unmistakably it.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, Taylor Lewis has managed to awaken an emotion I didn't even know I was capable of feeling, and it's rampaging through my usually rational brain like a bull loose in a glass factory.

I don't know whether I should be disturbed by that... or strangely amused.

Because if this is what jealousy feels like, it's completely unhinged.

And judging by how spectacularly my rational mind had unraveled in the span of thirty seconds... I have a feeling this emotion is only just getting started.

"You don't know any good guys, Luke," Elijah snorts, pulling me back to the conversation. "Every guy in your contact list is a certified fuckboy. Present company included."

"Hey," Luke says, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'm a reformed fuckboy. I'm like, a fuckman now. Mature. Evolved."

"You're a fuck-adult," Zach offers.

"I'm a fuck-responsible-citizen," Cody adds.

We're all laughing.

Luke's grin turns downright devious as he swivels toward Elijah. "Has Sam stopped ignoring you yet? Or are you still sending those pathetic 'hey' texts every fifteen minutes?"

Elijah's face does this thing where it goes completely blank for a second, like someone hit the reset button on his expression. Then it sours, his mouth pulling into a tight line. "She's just... busy."