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I frown. “Scrimmage?” It hits me a second later. “Oh, football…”
The urge to roll my eyes is there, but I can’t seem to look away from the reddish-brown ones peering down at me. Grant let’s go of my chin to give me his hand, palm facing up.
“Give me your phone.”
I scowl. “Absolutely not.”
He doesn’t ask me again. Grant simply waits for me to comply. With a huff, I shove my hand into my skirt pocket and pull it out. Before handing it to him, I unlock it and clear my notifications. As his fingers curl around my lifeline to the world, he searches my face a moment longer. There is a hard glint there in those brown eyes that scares me. But the fear is two-fold.
On one side, there’s the fear of the unknown of what he plans to do with me. On the other, I know I’m drawn to danger, and the danger radiating off him… It’s strangely exhilarating.
Grant breaks the eye contact first, turning to Trip and handing him my phone. “Put our information in here and create a group text. I want to be in contact with our new toy at all times.”
I’ll just block his number later, I promise myself.
Jason’s thumbs knead into my shoulders. The touch would be comforting if it wasn’t for the fact that the owner of the hands is holding me hostage so his friends can harass me.
“Relax, Briella.” His lips brush against the shell of my ear. Bumps race across my arms at his proximity. “You’re safe with us.”
“For now,” Grant corrects, sharply. His hard tone is a stark contrast to Jason’s deep, smooth baritone.
I can feel Jason’s chuckle as it shakes his hands.
“For now,” he repeats.
Trip’s fingers fly over the screen of my phone, and after a few seconds, he’s done inputting their information. He gives it back to Grant, who hands it to me. I snatch my phone from his grasp and shove it into my pocket.
“I’ll text you my address,” he promises darkly as he steps around me. “Come on guys, let’s get out of here.”
Trip blows me a kiss as he walks around me, and Jason’s hands disappear from my shoulders after he gives them a reassuring squeeze. I turn and watch as they vanish around the corner without a backward glance, leaving me to deal with my overactive imagination.
What the hell do these guys have planned for me?
And how the hell do I get out of it?
Five
Most Tuesday nights, I find myself eating Monday’s leftovers and watching couples search for their next home on tv.
This Tuesday night, however, I skip dinner. Too nervous to eat, or even to sit down, I pace my apartment nearly as fast as my heart beats. I haven’t gotten a text from anyone yet, but I know that could change at any minute. What are they going to do with me? It has to be something horrible. I just know it.
“This is so very much karma in all her glory,” I whisper angrily to myself.
I jump when my phone rings. Turning around quickly, I stare at the device sitting on the coffee table, vibrating around in a circle. Is it them? Oh god, it has to be them. What would happen if I just ignored them? Or if I really did block them?
They’ll expose my dirty deed to the world.
With a sigh, I hurry over to my phone and pick it up. To my relief, it’s Pianna. I answer just before the call goes to voicemail.
“Pia,” Her name comes out as a soft sigh.
“Hey,” she answers. I can hear the smile in her voice through the phone.
“What are you up to?”
“Waiting for Miguel to bring me back dinner. I’m starving. They had me working a fourteen-hour shift at the hotel. My feet are killing me, and my stomach is turning inside out, but seeing all these families coming in and out all day had me thinking about you a lot. I miss you.”
Since we’ve separated, we’ve only seen each other twice. Twice is definitely not enough.
