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“Because he was all over another girl!” I’m not going to be made to feel stupid for what I did. I punched him for being a douchebag. For not knowing exactly what he has in his grip and for not cherishing her. “And he made a crude comment I didn’t appreciate.”
She squeezes the bridge of her nose and inhales deeply as if she needs to center herself. “Bradley and I aren’t exclusive.”
“So?”
“So you had no right to do what you did, and now there are videos out there. Everyone who knows us is going to assume it’s over me. I can’t go from always being videoed and photographed as your best friend, and then I start dating one of your teammates and suddenly you end up punching him. Do you know how humiliating this is for me?”
I head into my kitchen to make breakfast. “Did you think I’d just sit there and watch him be all over some girl when my entire team knows he’s dating you?” I crack an egg and drop it in the bowl, throwing the shell away.
“It’s none of your business,” she says, coming to my side farther down the counter.
“And if roles were reversed?” I arch an eyebrow.
“You’re missing the point. We weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend. I was just dating him. He was free to do what he wanted.”
I’m baffled that we’re even having this fight. She should be saying thank you, and that’s the end of it. “It doesn’t matter if he’d gone out with you once. The point is, as long as you are in his life, he shouldn’t be fucking around with someone else. He should be head over heels for you.”
Her fists tighten, and she strangles out a cry. “What aren’t you understanding? I don’t need you to be my bodyguard. I’m not sure I can ever show my face again in front of your teammates.”
“That’s a tad dramatic,” I say, continuing to crack eggs. “Let’s just eat breakfast and forget the whole thing. I have more important problems coming my way from this fight. I might get suspended from games or benched. The coach hasn’t called, but I’m waiting.”
“More important?” she asks, cocking out her hip.
Oh fuck.
I sigh. “I’m gonna be honest, Elle, I don’t understand why you’re mad.” I scramble the eggs, put some butter in a pan, and grab some veggies from the fridge.
“Because you’re a man and you feel as if you handled it the right way? You gave him a black eye.”
I stop what I’m doing and look at her. “How?”
“How what?” She paces again, her go-to when she wants to think clearly.
“How do you know he has a black eye? Is there a picture of it somewhere?”
She’s quiet for a second.
My eyes narrow on her. “You saw him before coming here?” I dump the eggs in the pan and drop the bowl into the sink. It breaks into pieces from the force.
“Because he sent me a text this morning.”
“To plead his case, Elle!”
“Yes, and he told me his side of the story at breakfast.”
I stare at her in disbelief. This is how far apart we’ve gotten. “I can’t believe you didn’t come to me. You would’ve come to me before.” I point at myself, my voice rising.
“And you wouldn’t have hit him before! You would have been the one to tell me before!”
“Because you wouldn’t have been dating him!”
“It’s none of your business!” she shouts.
I close my eyes, my jaw tight. “Stop saying that.”
“I’ve always respected the girls you hang out with,” she says.
I give her my fakest laugh ever. “I never bring them around, plus I hardly date.”
