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I shake my head. “Nah, man. I’m good.”
“Yeah. Well, we’ll see about that. Coach said you might not be at practice today.” Cool grimaces. “We’re supposed to run today. Getting too slow out there. No footwork. And with our game against the Morgans coming up, we gotta get some speed going.”
“Right now, I got enough anger to keep me running for hours.”
Cool pulls into the gym parking lot.
Cameras flash, and two dozen people race for the car. Security swarms out from the building and works to corral the reporters.
One gets too close to the car for Cool’s comfort. He revs the engine again and lets it jump forward, coming closer to the guy trying to see through the tinted windows. “Guess they called their buddies. Told them to look for my car.”
“Guess so,” I say as I slump down. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good.” Cool smacks my leg.
We sit back and wait for security to do their job. The rumble of the engine soothes me in a weird way. I’ll be okay eventually. Right now I’m a mess of confused emotions.
I thought Trina and I were making progress. Heck, I was halfway in love with her. The puppy dog comment lodges in the back of my throat and steals my breath.
How did I not see this coming? She’s been out to get me since that first article. Am I so unlovable I’ll never find anyone? I hate to be dramatic, but seriously. When will it be my turn to fall in love and have someone love me?
Never. I scoff at the idea of putting myself out there again. There’s no need. I tried twice, and I crashed and burned twice.
There is no third times a charm for me, because I’m done. I’d resigned myself to the life of a bachelor because the women I meet are all after my money and fame. I expected Trina to be different. And she was. She wanted me for an entirely different reason. “Bride at First Sight” was supposed to be a way to get past those with ulterior motives.
The security guards wave us forward. Cool pulls into his parking spot and kills the engine. We sit there a few seconds, the silence thick with what I’m holding in.
I grab my bag and hop out, Cool on my heels. Security forms a barricade around us. The reporters are corralled off in the grass far away, but they’re still taking pictures and shouting questions.
“Liam, where’s Trina?”
“Did you know about her all along?”
“Are you going to continue the show?”
I tune them out as best I can. Cool’s expression is one I’ve only seen a couple times before. He usually plays it up for the reporters, but when they get out of line, like they are now, he turns into a beast.
He moves to block the reporters from getting a good shot of me.
It won’t help. They’ll post some blurry image and make it look like I needed Cool’s help or something ridiculous. By the end of the day, there will be a hundred more articles. I’ll be accused of everything from alcoholism and drug abuse to worse things. Things I endured before, thanks to Trina.
Thinking of her makes my stomach twist. Will she leave like I said, or will I go home and find her there, waiting for me?
I never want to see her again.
