Nathan grunts. “Better be.”
He keeps glaring, and Austin just keeps grinning.
“Trust me,” I say, forcing a chuckle. “I have no interest in your sister, alright?”You dirty little liar.“Besides,” I shrug, hoping he buys the bullshit spilling out of my mouth. “I’ve got a date tonight.”
Nathan’s brows shoot up in surprise. “You do?”
Austin echoes, voice dripping with skepticism. “You do?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Some girl I met last night at the bar.”
There’s a beat of silence before Austin whistles loudly, then whoops, smacking me on the arm. “Bout fucking time.”
Nathan shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we’re done by then, so you won’t be late to your date. Lord knows you need it.”
I hate them all.
Before I can fire back, the sound of pounding footsteps echoes from downstairs, and Logan comes barreling in, shirtless and only in boxers. “Who’s got a date?”
Oh, for the love of God.
“Jesus. Put some fucking clothes on,” Nathan mutters, narrowing his eyes at him.
Logan just smirks, wagging his eyebrows. “Turning you on, am I?” he teases.
Nathan rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re an idiot, Gray.”
Logan laughs, tossing him a wink. “Keep talking dirty to me, and I might just take that as an invitation.” His eyes flick to Austin. “Now tell me who the hell has a date.”
Austin lazily gestures toward me, his smirk widening.
Logan’s eyes snap back to me, and his mouth practically drops open. “Reed’s got a date? Fuck yeah! About time he got rid of his dry spell.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” Austin agrees.
I roll my eyes, throwing my hands up. “Jesus Christ. I’m surrounded by children.” I grunt, rubbing a hand down my face. “I’m out of here.” I grab my gym bag, sling it over my shoulder, and head upstairs.
The second I close my bedroom door, I strip off my clothes and toss them onto the floor. I make a beeline for the shower, turning the water to full blast. The hot spray hits me, and I close my eyes, letting it ripple over my skin as I inhale deeply.
Thoughts of Isabella start flooding my mind. I barely got a chance to talk to her at the café last week, since her brother was there, which pretty much put a damper on anything realhappening, but I really like talking to her. I can’t even remember the last time I enjoyed talking to a girl like I do her. Usually, all girls want to talk about is either hockey, my brother, or—let’s be real—an invitation into their bed.
But with Isabella? It feels different. No hidden agendas. She’s not interested in dating hockey players, and I’m not looking for a relationship, so we’re basically on the same page. There’s no pressure, just two people talking and actually getting to know each other.
Except… she’s off-limits.
I let out a frustrated groan, splashing water onto my face, trying to wash away the tension in my head.
What the fuck am I doing?
I need to stop thinking about Isabella. This whole thing is probably just a side effect of not getting laid for way too long. Maybe my brain’s just making up some weird obsession to fill the void.
Yeah, that’s what it is. Just a weird delusion.
I run a hand through my wet hair and turn off the shower, the bathroom quickly fogging up with steam. Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around my waist and step onto the cold tile. Reaching for the massage gun on the counter, I start working it into the tight muscles in my neck, trying to ease the knots from practice.
I glance at my phone on the bed. With a sigh, I walk over, grab it, and scroll to Cassie’s text with her address.
A breath escapes me. This is exactly what I need—a quick distraction. Someone to help me get Isabella out of my head.
