Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

THEODORE

O kay, so the dick pic idea is out. Believe it or not, that’s worked for me once or twice. Send a picture, freak out that it was totally an ‘accident’, and be all cute and shy and apologetic. Some women eat that shit up. Clearly, that’s not going to do it for Roo. Whatever. The fact that she actually smiled at me today makes up for that.

There’s something about her smile. I haven’t gotten one of the real ones yet. Not one of the ones I see when she’s talking with Jules or Clara backstage; the one where her nose crinkles a little bit and her green eyes turn into slits. Those are my absolute favorite…

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I thinking so poetically about a smile? I should be thinking about her tits. Aurora has great tits. Not too big, definitely not fake. Don’t get me wrong, I love fake tits. They wouldn’t look right on her. I prefer hers the way that they are. A nice handful. I bet she has the cutest nipples too.

There. That’s better.

Halfway back to the elevator, I see Austin walking toward me. That’s a problem I’m going to have to deal with. He doesn’t need to get close to her. She’s mine. No one knows that yet, not even her. Once I have a piece of her…no. Actually, no. Once I have a piece of her, I don’t want anyone else to have her. The thought of someone else touching her? It makes me want to break their hand.

“Austin, buddy,” I start as I close the gap between us. “I was thinking…” I reach into my back pocket and grab my keycard, holding it out to him. “Take this and take my room for the night. It’s a suite, you know, only the best for the champ. But tonight? All yours, man.”

When he stops in front of me, Austin’s eyes jump from me to the key and back again. “Appreciate it, Theo, but I’m good. My room’s just down the hall, and I have an early flight home in the morning. No need for the extra comfort.”

My jaw clenches. “That’s not going to work for me, bud.” I sling my arm around his shoulders, physically redirecting him to turn around and walk back toward the elevator. He may have a height advantage, but I have a few more pounds of muscle. “You’re gonna take my room upstairs; I’ll take yours.”

Austin doesn’t put up a fight as he walks with me, but I can feel his muscles tensing, trying to keep me from leading him further down the hallway. “Is this about Aurora?”

“Of course not.” Everything is about Aurora. “Although, speaking of Roo, why don’t you stay away from her? She’s new. She’s getting her feet underneath her. You don’t need to jeopardize her career, which would fuck me over in the process. She doesn’t need to be distracted by sex, romance, and all that jazz. You know how women are. They meet a guy and suddenly all they can think about is him.”

“I don’t think Aurora is like that.”

Neither do I. I’ve been engaging in some not-so-healthy social media stalking, and I can’t find anything about a current—or ex—boyfriend. No old pictures, nothing tagged. I’ve looked hard, trust me. All I’ve learned is that she’s thoroughly dedicated to wrestling and follows an insane amount of interior designers. I’ve decided that she watches home renovation shows when she wants to relax.

“Well, we don’t want to risk it, do we?” We come to a stop back at the elevator. My arm drops from around his shoulders and my eyes lock on his. “Give me your key. We’re switching rooms. I’m not asking anymore.” My voice drops an octave as I hold my hand out expectantly.

Nathan would never forgive me if I punched a coworker and started a fight in the hallway of the hotel that the company was paying for. That would be a bad look, and I don’t need any more bad publicity right now.

The way Austin is looking at me reminds me of a kicked puppy. He doesn’t want to turn this into an altercation. He doesn’t know how close I am to turning it into one if he doesn’t fucking listen. There appears to be an argument on the tip of his tongue that never leaves.

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and slides out a keycard. “Here,” he grumbles in defeat. “Take it. I’ll be back in the morning to get my stuff.”

Who knew that it would be that easy? I’m not going to complain. I prefer things the easy way.

“Knew you’d make the right choice, bud.” I smack him on the back again. We exchange keycards and I immediately turn to walk away, not allowing him to change his mind.

There are two more days before I see Aurora again. Forty-eight hours. That sounds a hell of a lot more doable than it is. My thoughts keep drifting to her. What’s she doing? Who’s she with? No one…hopefully. Even if all my social media stalking came up empty-handed, she may have a boyfriend out there. Now I want to find that hypothetical man and tear him limb from limb .

Unable to escape my thoughts of her, I decide to text her. I’ve been back home for a good five hours. I’ve hit the gym, done a load of laundry, and ignored phone calls from my mom. She doesn’t want to talk to me anyway. She likely wants to yell about my ruined engagement and tell me how much of a fuck-up I am, then ask for me to pay her country club fees.

Roo

It’s Theo. How was your flight?

Do I need to consider a restraining order? How did you know that my flight had already landed?

Lucky guess. You didn’t answer my question.

It was fine. Did you need something or are you just being annoying?

I roll my eyes. She likes playing hard to get, huh? She thinks she’s discouraging me from continuing to wiggle under her skin—she’s not. She’s going to break. She’s going to realize how much she really does like me.

Men often pretend to be something they’re not. They act like they’re knights in shining armor until they get the girl, then they turn into raging douchebags. The girl ends up blindsided and heartbroken. ‘How could I have ever fallen for a man like that?’ All my red flags are right up front. No pretending is necessary.

I am not a knight in shining armor.

I’m not going to sweep anyone off their feet.

I’m a bastard and I fucking know it. Maybe that makes me a horrible person, but at least I’m honest with myself.

Actually, yeah. What are your measurements?

Did you seriously text me just to ask my boob size? That’s pathetic.

Where did I mention boobs? I’m not the one with a dirty mind. It’s a simple question.

What are your measurements?

Why?

Because I want to know. Can you humor me and send them? I promise they’re not for anything creepy. At least not anything a normal person thinks is creepy.

You’re not normal.

Maybe you’re extra creepy and no one’s called you on it before.

Yet she sends me her measurements.

I’m beginning to think I’m wearing her down already.

Maybe she likes me more than she’ll ever admit—even to herself.