Page 26

Too quiet.

Like the space between us, just got ideas.

Nope. Absofrickinlutely not.

I look away first. Doesn’t mean he won anything. Just means I’m not wasting energy decoding a smirk.

Let him think he’s all mysterious. I’ve met his type. Moody, broody, and emotionally constipated with a gym membership.

He can laugh all he wants.

I’m not interested.

…Even if my pulse just sped up like a liar.

I watch him go, wishing I had an even snappier comeback. But I don’t.I’m too busy trying to figure out why the air feels unavoidably so much thicker now.

Chapter eight

Liam

Thatblonde'sgotclaws.

I slam my car door hard enough to crack a window. Should've known better than to engage with Little Miss Road Rage twice in two days, but something about her standing next to my car like she owned the fucking place had me seeing red. Katarina. Finally got a name to go with that smart mouth and those gray eyes that cut through my bullshit like a blade. I slam my car door hard enough to make the windows rattle.

Sun’s a goddamn furnace, sweat clinging to my neck before I even make it halfway up the driveway. The heat’s got nothing on the fire chewing through my chest though. I can still hear her voice. Feel the sting of every word. I don’t even know her name — just that she pisses me off like no one else.

Second time we’ve crossed paths, and already we’re yelling in a parking lot like exes on Judge Judy.

I shouldn’t have said anything. Should’ve let her walk. But she was there — right there — and something in me cracked.

Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t slept right in days. Maybe I’m just a fucking idiot.

I didn’t even get her fucking insurance info. I walked away — I wasn’t in the mood to apologize. Not after the locker room shitstorm with Aiden. That shit stung more than it should’ve. Probably ‘cause I know he’s not wrong.

My phone rings. I already know who it is.

Coach Dawson.

Perfect.

I stare at the screen a second too long, jaw grinding like gears. Then I answer. Not because I want to — because it’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s half my life lately: doing the shit I don’t want to, pretending I’m not burning up inside.

“Liam. How’s the new team treating you?”

His voice is rough, slow, like gravel scraping asphalt. No small talk. No warm-up. Just straight to the point.

“It’s fine,” I mutter, heading up the steps. “Still learning the system.”

“The system.” Dawson laughs, cold and low. “That your big update? I hope you’ve got more than that in your back pocket, son. Grit wins games, not excuses.”

I clench my jaw. “We’ve had two practices. No one’s settled. I’m giving what I’ve got.”

“That all you’ve got?” he snaps. “Because I’m hearing otherwise. Word is the captain already had to check your attitude. That true?”

I don’t answer.

Doesn’t matter. He already knows.