Fish: I hate all of you.
Emmett: No, you don’t.
Fish: I’m muting this chat now.
Nelly: Night night, Magic Mike.
The next morning,Evan is waiting outside my building. We walk to the rink together most days, he lives a couple of blocks over, and the facility is close enough on foot.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning, Magic Mike.”
“That’s not sticking,” I grumble.
“It’s already stuck. Nelly changed your name in the group chat.”
“Of course he did.”
He falls into step beside me, but doesn’t say anything for half a block. The city is loud around us with cabs, joggers, and someone yelling at a delivery guy.
“My sister sent me the video, she lives in London.”
“Fuck. This is embarrassing.”
“Are you embarrassed over the stripping or losing the shootout?” He smirks.
“Both,” I grumble.
“Look, it’s going to be a thing for maybe a week tops, and then something else will happen and people will move on,” he assures me.
That is true. We walk another block, and I can see the facility up ahead.
“You need to stop flirting with her,” Evan says out of nowhere.
“Excuse me?” I turn to him.
“You heard me. You’re playing with fire.”
“I’m not flirting with her.”
The look he gives me could strip paint. “You asked her brothers if you could take her to dinner. What were you hoping to accomplish?”
“It was a bet.”
“You don’t bet things you don’t want,” he says, raising a brow at me.
“Funny. That’s not what I …”
“You like her.” Evan continues to interrogate me.
“As the sister of two of my teammates and one of the content girls,” I argue back.
“Bullshit.”
“Your English gets worse when you’re annoyed, you know that?” I tease him.
“My English is fine. Your judgment is bad.” He stops walking, then turns to look at me. “She is Pierre and Felix’s sister. She works for the team. You are playing with fire.”