Page 4 of The King Contract
“Your surfboard collection?” I clarify.
He nods. “What do you say?”
“Are you flirting with me to distract me from the loss of a very important camera?”
Noah quirks an eyebrow. “Is it working?”
I squint through the light rain as Noah’s mouth smooths out into a grin. His lips are big and full and especially distracting when he drags his tongue over his bottom lip. When he tosseshis wet hair and winks—yes, hewinks—I know he’s doing it intentionally.
It’s similar to the choreographed performance he did on the popular girls in high school and I’m certain,has worked on countless women in his lifetime. The way he drags his gaze across my body once again confirms he’s putting on a show, trying to charm me into forgetting what I lost.
I shake my head. “I know all about guys like you.”
Noah’s pupils dilate at the sound of my lowered voice, his emerald gaze transfixed on my mouth. “Is that right?”
“Mmhmm. You’re a cliché.”
His gaze narrows. “I’m a what?”
“A cliché,” I purr. “A phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought. Or in this case, a person.”
Noah looks baffled. “I know what a cliché is. I meant, how am I a cliché?”
“You’re predictable,” I say lightly, revelling as his smile vanishes. “The smooth-talking athlete from high school grew up to be the smooth-talking athlete adult. He uses his winning smile andsurfboard collectionto get his own way. He doesn’t have room for anything in his life except casual sex and competition. How am I doing so far?”
Noah struggles to formulate a sentence, so I get to my feet, grimacing at the sand in my shoes.
“Wait a second,” he protests, jumping to his feet. He towers over me by several inches, but I roll my shoulders back, determined not to shy away. “If I’m a cliché, you are too.”
I smile sweetly. “I don’t think so. My surfboard collection isn’t that big.”
His lip curls into a sneer. “Nerdy, know-it-all from high school grew up to be a nerdy, know-it-all adult. She uses sub-par insults and humour to deflect from her inability to hold a normal conversation. She’s scared of loss and rejection, so competitionand sex ofanykind are out of the question. How amIdoing so far?”
The fury pumping through my veins trumps over the surprise at his quick response. I clench my fists beside me, right as he tampers his jaw shut.
“Thank you for reminding me why I always hated jocks,” I hiss.
“And thankyoufor reminding me why I never paid attention to nerds,” he growls.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“No need, I’ve got plenty of casual sex lined up.”
I spin to march away before I lose control of my limbs and slap his stupid, smug face, but he steps in front of me, glaring, a smirk on his lips. “My surfboard collection ishuge.”
3
NOAH
She didn’t reject me
People love a bad boy.
Up to a point.
That point being when photos leak of said bad boy having a threesome with two supermodels, followed by a fistfight at a party of a renowned cocaine-addicted music producer. All this the nightafterthe police arrested him for being drunk and disorderly, risking his entire athletic career. Around that point, people think you’re an obnoxious dickhead.
It’s understandable nobody wants to work with me. My brand deals were either cancelled or not renewed and now, the bosses at the World Surfing Association are waiting for the final straw to break so they can cut me from next year’s Championship Tour.
