Page 14 of Wild Card

NINE

Scarlett

When I come backinto the room wrapped in a towel, I grin at him sitting on the edge of the bed watching me. Meanwhile, I’m taking in all the skin and tattoos on display. But when my eyes meet his, there’s something stormy there. The little bloom of anticipation in my chest fades.

“What?”

“Forgot clothes too?”

“Yeah. You kind of rushed me out of here.”

“Good. Put it on.” He nods to the spot next to him on the bed.

Which is when I spot the jersey—his jersey. The one that hangs in the back of my closet. The one he never would have seen if I hadn’t asked him to go looking for a towel.Fuck.

“Tobias…”

“You hate me and yet you have an old jersey of mine.”

“Having your jersey is a crime now?” I ask defensively.

I’m honestly a little shocked. I thought this would have bolstered his ego, not made him grumpy as fuck.

“It’s signed.Isigned it. When the fuck did that happen?”

“Shortly after I bought it—years ago. When I went to an open training camp day.”

“I don’t remember it.”

I laugh at the idea that he would, and he frowns.

“Why would you? You’ve probably signed thousands of them over the years.”

“I feel like I’d remember you.” There’s a defensive edge to his voice.

“You barely even looked at me. You were too busy flirting with my friend and asking for her number so she could meet you at a club that night.”

A panicked look flashes across his face. “I didn’t—” He stops as abruptly as he started.

“Fuck her? No. She had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested. She told you that before trying to get me to give you my number. Which you responded to with… ’Nah. I’m good, sweetheart’ before you waved us off.”

His eyes soften, and his jaw flexes.

“I think I’m beginning to understand why you don’t like me.”

“It was a million years ago.”

“So nothing to do with why you’ve seemingly hated me since the first day we met?”

“I mean, I didn’t forget that it happened. But the animosity since is mostly to do with the fact that you seem to get off on irritating me. I have no idea what I did to deserve that.”

“You’re fucking hot when you’re pissed. I honestly can’t help myself sometimes. It’s like an addiction.”

I laugh at the honesty, and he smiles at me for a moment before a devious smirk spreads in its wake. He pulls the jersey off the bed, turning it over to look at his name again.

“So does this mean you’ve had an unrequited thing for me all these years? Just pining away for me?”

I raise a brow at him.