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Rolling his eyes, he says, “It’s okay, I got this. Go get some water, princess. Sit under a tree.”
“You shut up and get water. Let me take care of my team,” I snap, and that has him scowling.
“You would have never even gone if I hadn’t said anything.”
“Because I forgot. We are currently in Satan’s asshole, remember? Jeez, just go get water and maybe pull your shorts down or up or whatever,” I yell, and his scowl deepens.
“You’re pathetic,” he says, and then he turns, running back down the hill. Since I refuse to allow him to win, and maybe I am a bit pathetic, I follow after him. When ten minutes pass, I am convinced I am dying.
But Jayden is just trotting. Like a damn gazelle.
Looking back at me, he calls, “You can sit down. I’ll come back and carry you back.”
“Cold day in hell,” I wheeze back, trying to find some gas to catch up with him.
Turning and jogging backward, I scowl even more as he says, “You know, you should be nicer to the guys.”
Raising an eyebrow, I say, “I am nice.”
He laughs. “Says the black widow before she kills you.”
Ignoring that, I say, “I’m not here to make friends.”
“You should try. Being a pariah will do nothing but hurt you in the end. We are family here, and right now you’re like a distant cousin who thinks she is too good for us.”
I shrug. “Again, not here to make friends. Here to play hockey and get—”
“Into the NHL, yeah, heard that and completely believe in you. But when you’re there, do you think you’ll make friends? Because if you’re as prickly as you are now, you won’t.”
Prickly? I’m not fucking prickly!
Frowning angrily at him, I say, “If I’m so damn prickly, then why do you keep talking to me?”
He smiles, his hands coming up and lacing together behind his head. His abs all constrict in, his biceps large as the veins in his arms start to show. Sweat is dripping down his chest, his skin is splotchy, and still I think he is the hottest thing since cornbread. “See, the thing is, I knew you before you decided you hated life, and I like that girl I knew. Maybe I’m hoping she’ll come back.”
“You never knew me.”
He laughs. “Sure, I didn’t.”
“You didn’t,” I say again childishly, and he nods his head.
“Whatever helps you sleep, princess,” he says before righting himself and running with his back to me. He then calls out, “You can admit something to me later tonight, at the party.”
“I’m not going,” I say, and then I stick my tongue out. Because that’s what classy, non-immature girls do to the guys who piss them off.
“Yeah, you are.”
“Excuse me?”
/> “Since it promotes our team building, I know you’ll go because I’m going. And we both know you don’t want me to have one up on you, eh?”
Sending me one last grin, he takes off and I’m left speechless.
Again.
Because he’s right.
And damn it, it’s driving me insane!
