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“I knew this would happen,” I hiss, glaring at him as I desperately readjust my clothes.
“You weren't complaining a second ago,” he says as he pulls a T-shirt back over his head and buttons up his pants.
“Miles, this is bad. We can’t do this.”
He doesn’t have chance to reply, though, because his teammates walk up on us. I lean against the lockers, trying to look discreet and casual and not like I’m still totally wet and flustered.
“Yo, Miles, dude,” says one of the guys.
“What’s hot?” says another, then he spots me and awkwardly adds, “Oh, hey, Olivia.”
They all know me, of course. I've interviewed and taken photos of all of them more than once. I don’t like all of them, but at least they respect me, most of the time. They know I’m an important part of their careers, like it or not.
“Why are you here?” says Raphael suspiciously. He’s one of the difficult ones, always trying to prove himself as a big, tough man to mask his insecurities. He might not realize it, but I see right through him.
“I've just come to pick Miles up,” I say, hoping that my breath doesn't sound shaky. Raphael raises a suspicious eyebrow, but doesn't say anything else.
“We don't usually get girls down here,” jeers one of the guys at the back of the crowd.
“Yeah,” says Pete, muscling through the others. “Only when Raph brings some hot chick down to brag about in front of everyone.”
“Well, you wouldn't get any of that from me,” says Miles. “Especially not with her.”
I understand completely why he says it, but it still feels like a slap in the face. I have to clench my fists to stop myself from recoiling.
Raphael laughs, then looks at me and adds, “Yeah. No offense, Olivia.”
“Lots taken!” I snap, eyes prickling with tears. It's stupid to be upset about this, but I can’t show weakness in front of the guys. I force my face into my very best glare to flash at them all, drawing myself tall to show them I won’t be intimidated.
“Sorry,” they all mutter.
“You better be,” I say, suppressing my triumphant smile. “Okay, Miles, are you ready?”
“Yeah, I'll just grab my bag,” he says.
I flash the boys another smile, then turn on my heel and march away. I cannot get out of there fast enough. It was a bad idea, and I knew it. I should never have gone down there at all.
Miles follows me out to the car, and as soon as we're alone again, he tries to say, “Olivia, I'm sorry.”
I cut him off before he can start giving me that look that I feel so weak for. “Don't even bother. I get it. I do. It’s whatever.”
“Livvy—”
“Don't call me that!” I snap.
“Sorry,” he says again.
He doesn’t say another word for the whole drive back to his place.
We barely even say goodbye when he gets out, and as I drive home, I take the long way so I can think about everything. About the way he is to me when we’re alone and the act he puts on around everyone else. About if I can ever really trust him when he can swap roles so easily.
About whether there even is an us to talk about at all.
The best bit about the car is it’s a place to cry where no one’s going to see.
Just what has Miles done to me?
CHAPTER 18
