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“There you are.” Sam wrapped her arms around me, gazing up at me like I was her every dream come true.
“You’re here,” I said, my brows furrowing.
“Well, yeah. You said—”
“I said I was going out with the guys to eat. It wasn’t an invitation.”
“Noah, come on,” she purred, trying—and failing—to be sexy. “Don’t be like that. I’ve missed you.”
Correction.
She missed fucking me.
I fought the urge to call her out on her bullshit, but a couple of the guys were watching us, and I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the team. I wasn’t that heartless. Besides, Sam and I were friends. At least, we used to be before I made the fatal error of sleeping with her.
I should have known crossing that line was a mistake, but I had a habit of making bad fucking decisions when I was drunk and horny.
Way to go, Holden. Always thinking with your dick.
“Sam, you’re reading into stuff that isn’t there,” I said, keeping my smile relaxed. Easy… Friendly. “We had fun together, and I like you… as a friend.” I quickly tacked on.
Jesus. This was awkward as hell.
Austin caught my eye over her shoulder and mouthed, ‘Abort mission.’
Fucker.
“Friend, I see.” She stepped back, the lust melting off her face replaced with irritation and a hint of dejection.
There was no denying Samantha Flores was hot. Tall and slim with curves in all the right places, she had long glossy blonde hair and legs for days. And she had big fuck-me eyes that were so easy to fall into when I’d had a drink or two.
But friends and sex didn’t mix.
I’d learned that the hard way.
What started out as a friends-with-benefits arrangement at the beginning of summer had quickly snowballed into a stage-five-clinger situation. I’d been trying to let her down gently—keeping my distance and not feeding into her fantasies of her, me, and romantic days around campus—but she clearly wasn’t getting the memo.
“Sam, come on. You know you’re a good friend. Let’s not—”
“Whatever, Noah.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, trying to play it cool. “If you don’t want me, I’m sure one of the other guys will.”
“Seriously? You’re going to hook up with one of my teammates?” Irritation rippled through me.
“You don’t want me, right?” She shrugged. “So, I’m a free agent.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
She walked away from me without so much as a second glance, but maybe it was better this way. I’d prefer it if she didn’t hook up with one of my teammates, but perhaps it would get her off my case.
I flagged down the bartender Stu, who delivered my usual, an ice-cold bottle of Heineken.
“Thanks,” I said, flicking him ten dollars.
“I’ve got two hundred bucks on you guys bringing home the trophy this season. So do me a favor, and score big.”
“That’s the plan.” With a small nod, I headed for the collection of tables the team regularly hung out at.
“Trouble in paradise?” Austin asked, casting his gaze toward where Sam was chatting with a couple of the rookie players.
