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In a split second, his fingers wrap around my wrist, and he tugs me closer. I suck in a sharp breath as those dark eyes of his meet mine. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Cole.”
The corner of my mouth tilts upward. “Why? Are you planning to show me just how right you are?”
The energy sizzles between us from the pent-up tension. His eyes darken, his fingers around my wrist tightening as my heart speeds up a notch, but as soon as it appears, it’s all gone.
Prescott drops my hand as if I burned him, taking a step back and putting distance between us. Some much-needed distance.
I turn my back on him and let out a long breath, trying to collect myself. “Didn’t think so.” I grab the beers and shove them into his hands. “Take those out.”
“Seriously?”
I raise my brow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Shouldn’t you treat me better? After all, I did help you move and carry your shit up, you know?”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “I’m sure that even if I forget, you’ll be there to remind me. Now carry those outside.”
He grabs the beers from me and mumbles: “Of course, why appreciate the fact that an injured man is helping you?”
“You’re a far cry from an injured man, Wentworth. Get your head out of your ass for once, will ya?” I push him toward the door. “And you better not make me spill mojito, or I might strangle you.”
“So disrespectful.”
“If I were you, I’d be careful about what you say. You wouldn’t want people to find out that a big, bad football player is afraid of a kitty.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t mess with my mojito, and you won’t have to find out.”
He starts to turn around, but I push him out the door. He stumbles over the threshold, drawing attention to us.
“Good,” Yasmin tilts her head back to look at us. “We were worried you two killed each other.”
“The jury is still out.” I smile sweetly as I walk around him to my seat; all the while, I can feel Prescott’s eyes on me. It’s unnerving the way just being around him can throw me off-kilter. He irritates me, yet I can’t help but look at him.
Like you’reonlylooking at him.
I refill my glass and sit back down. The conversation has shifted from Prescott’s sex life—thank God ‘cause nobody needs to hear that shit. I sip at my drink. Listening to my friends makes me realize how much I missed this. Spending the summer in New York with Grace was fun, but I missed my friends.
A little before midnight, people start to leave. First, Matteo, then Penny goes next door to her apartment, just as I walk Nixon, Yasmin, and Prescott to the door. Rising on the tips of my toes, I press my lips against Nixon’s cheek. No matter how annoying he can be, he’s still my brother. My only family, really. “Thanks for helping us today.”
“Anytime, Smalls. We still on for brunch on Sunday?”
I roll my eyes at him. Nixon got this new idea that we should have brunch every weekend, making it a tradition of sorts.
“You know that makes you sound like some rich boy, right? Who even has brunch?”
“We do.” He tries to pinch my side, but I’m already anticipating it, so I pull back. “So, brunch on Sunday at Macy’s?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I give a hug to Yas. “I’ll see you two.”
I look up, my eyes fixed on Prescott standing behind them, watching us silently. My throat bobs as I swallow. “Thanks for the help,” I force the words out.
Surprise flashes on his face, but he recovers quickly. “You’re welcome.”
“Not that we actually asked, but…”
Bitchy? Maybe. But I couldn’t help this feeling that he always has the upper hand on me somehow.
