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ButIwas still playing games when I’d texted him, “Rust, promise me you’ll delete it, okay?”
“Deleted,”he’d written.
And you know what? Ione hundred percentbelieve him, too. Heck, he probably deleted it the second he saw it. Because he’d made it clear that he cared more about his “fella” more than he’d ever care about me. And why wouldn’t that be the case? He was probably stunned that his best friend managed to raise such a hot mess.
I set my phone down and curled up under the covers.
Man. What’s wrong with me?I thought.Why am I throwing myself at a guy who doesn’t want me?
Not just any guy, either.
My dad’s best friend.
Maybe Rust was right. Maybe I shouldpretend like the kiss never happened. Because it clearly never should’ve happened.
I’m so dumb.
My phone buzzed on the night stand. I felt nauseous when I saw it was a text from Rust. He wrote, simply,“Hi.”
I figured what would follow was a serious talk about our business relationship moving forward, and how “accidents” like last night couldn’t happen again.
“Hey,” I wrote back, my tail between my legs as I readied myself for a lecture.
“How are you and Minka today?”
“We’re both good, how are you?”
“Good. I’m at the hotel. Supposed to be taking my pre-game nap but I can’t sleep.”
I was surprised at his conversational tone—and even more surprised when, a second later, he sent a selfie. Rust was lying in bed, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew something I didn’t. The glimpse at his exposed collarbone hinted that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I wasallfor it.
I clicked the heart to “love” his photo, but I left it at that. After last night, I wasn’t in a big rush to tell him just how fucking handsome he looked, or how bad I wished I was lying next to him at this very moment. Ugh, justthinkingabout being in that hotel bed with him brought a rush of heat to my pussy…
But no, wait! I was a changed woman! I wasn’t going to indulge in thoughts like those anymore.
“Lol. What a coincidence! I’m in bed trying to nap, too,” I replied. “But don’t worry, I won’t even try to send you a picture this time. God only knows what I’d send you instead.” I added a grimace emoji to drive home the point.
Proving he could use emojis too, Rust responded with the crying-laughing face.
At least we can laugh about it,I thought.
“Sorry about the mishap btw,” I wrote. “The girls and I might have broken into your bar last night. I got a little too crazy. But I’ll replace what we drank and it won’t happen again. I promise.”
“Hey, no underage drinking in my house,”he wrote.
My heart sank when I read that stern sounding text.Ugh,I felt so dumb. He reallydidthink of me as this little kid, didn’t he? How much more was I going to embarrass myself around Rust?
I was disgusted with myself—until Rust’s next text pinged my phone.
“Just kidding. I remember being nineteen. I don’t care if you drink. Just be responsible. I trust you.”
I grinned.Jeez.How nice it was to have someone say they trusted you.
“Thanks! That means a lot. I hardly ever drink, so you won’t have to worry.”
“Good girl,”he wrote.
Sometimes, my fans called me “good girl” in DMs. I always hated it. It made me feel like I was their friggin’ dog and they were praising me for doing a trick on command or something.
