An unbidden chuckle escapes me as I shake myhead, loosening my grip on the poor glass.
“What’s funny?” Kaeli asks with a smile, leaning her head on her palm as her elbow rests on the table, her body twisted to look at me.
It’s nice to see Kaeli on and about, smiling genuinely. At work, in the arena, she’s always our social media manager, maintaining her semblance of professionalism as she carves a name for herself in the men’s world.
“I said something similar to Ezra once in Seattle when he was glaring at you, and who we now know is your MLB playing brother,” I recount, a smile stretching on my lips at the memory. “God, he was a goner for you from the beginning,” I scoff.
“He was, wasn’t he?” Kaeli sighs, a soft smile on her lips showing she’s clearly in love. She sits straighter and narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t change the subject.” Shifting closer to me on the seat, she speaks softly, “If Ezra saw you looking at his sister like that, he would lose his balls, go fucking ballistic.”
The warning in her tone is clear: Stay away from Andie.
A vein feathers in my jaw as I clench it, my gaze wandering back to the woman in question.
When I don’t say anything, Kaeli places a hand on mine. Every instinct in me tells me to pull it away, but I stay put. “I won’t ever come between two people, Noah. And with the way you’re looking at her, I know where this ship is sailing. So, I really hope you know what you’re doing,” she says softly, understanding in her tone. “I won’t say a word to Ezra. Be careful,” she promises, even though I didn’t ask her to, but am grateful nonetheless.
She taps my hand twice before getting up to find her boyfriend, who has been in the restroom for suspiciously too long.
As much as every atom in my body abhors it, I know Kaeli is right. I have to be careful. I can’t worry Ezra over something that’s not gonna end well.
I wish I could tell that to my heart so it would stop beating for her.
Twenty Seven
Andie
Dave cracks another joke that has me throwing my head back in a laugh.
Is he funny? Sure.
Is he funny enough that I should laugh like a hyena? Absolutely not.
Yet, I’m still doing exactly that. Why? Because I’m petty, and with the way Noah’s gaze is searing into the back of my skull, I’m pretty sure I’m succeeding in my childish attempt to annoy him with my disinterest in him.
He may not be jealous of Dave,with his dark and cute smile, who’s sitting in front of me, clearly buttering me up and hoping to take me home tonight. But Noah is a man, and men rarely like being tossed aside with little to no regard, especially when they’re as famous and hot as he is.
I doubt Noah even cares that I’m already moving on with someone else. It might just be my presence that is dampening his win in tonight’s game, annoying him enough to drill holes into my back.
And that annoyance wafting off of him is enough to let a sliver of satisfaction slither into me. I’m not usually petty, but after he pushed me away, I need to let him know that it has been weeks, and I’m not wallowing in my misery, sipping on my red wine, or looking for distractions that would help me forget how goodhe looks with his mouth between my thighs and how good he feels with his length filling me up.
Even if all of that isexactlywhat I’ve been doing.
“Andie?” Dave’s voice, which feels a little too wrong falling onto my ears, jarrs me out of my thoughts of a certain grumpy goalie.
“Yes, I’m sorry. You were saying?” I clear my throat and look at him with a tight smile. God, I hate myself for using Dave, but no matter how much I try, I can’t focus for more than five minutes on what he has to say about his photography skills, and how that has pushed him to new adventures time and time again.
His eyes roam over my face, his lips lifting into a defeated smile. His gaze darts back to the drink in his hand, his figure hunched over the counter as he puts most of his weight on it.
“You’re not really here, are you? There’s someone else,” he points out, with no judgment in his tone, only silent understanding.
His words have me taking stock of the man once again, willing myself to find that spark that lights up in my body, anything to indicate that there’s chemistry between us. Objectively, Dave is a perfect guy to date. He’s a photographer with a charming air about him, a lopsided smile that perfectly showcases his pearly white teeth.
He’s tall, lean, and handsome. A perfect gentleman, too.
But it’s all wrong.He’sall wrong.
Nothing about him is making my heart flip—not his eyes, not his smile, not his subtle advances.
Whereas I can feel my body heat up, my thighsclenching just thinking about the man who has been glaring at us for well over an hour now. Just the knowledge of him is enough to make my heart race.