I don’t bother replying. She’s already won.
Shoving my phone into my bag, I blow out a breath. Maybe this will be a disaster. Maybe it won’t. Either way, I’m done sitting in the corner.
Time to see what happens.
11
RYAN
In one ear and straight out the other.
That’s what Austin’s conversation is doing right now because while he’s rambling about—hell, I don’t even know anymore—I’m too busy watching the door.
Ever since Nathan mentioned his sister was coming tonight, my mind’s been running circles around the thought of seeing her again.
Haven’t seen her since that party at my place. Since that night we got a little too close, a little too reckless. And fuck, I must have a death wish because all I can think about is doing it again. Talking to her is fun, flirting is even more fun, and playing with fire when I know I should be ten feet away from her at all times? A dangerous kind of fun.
I take a slow sip of my beer, barely tasting it as the door swings open, hoping it’s Isabella.
I want to talk to her. Flirt with her. Make her laugh. Wanna kiss her.
Fuck. No. Bad idea.
Friends. Just fucking friends.
I take another sip of beer, forcing myself to focus on the cold bitterness sliding down my throat. It doesn’t help. She’s the first girl in months I’ve even been remotely interested in, and of course, she’s the one I can’t have.
Off-limits. Forbidden.
Nathan would break my jaw if I even thought about touching his little sister. Coach, too.
Kinda hot when you think about it.
Also fucking dangerous.
Austin’s laugh snaps me out of my thoughts, and I blink back at him, realizing he’s watching me with an arched brow.
“Reed, what the hell are you looking at?”
Shit. I shake my head, playing it off. “Huh?”
“You’ve been zoned the hell out,” he says, smirking. “Thinking about your next hook-up?”
I almost scoff, but I just shake my head. “Yeah, something like that.”
Austin chuckles. “What happened to that girl from the other night? Date went well, I assume?” He wags his brows.
Right. The date I never went on. Because, apparently, I’m an idiot who’d rather fixate on the one girl I can’t have and risk my friendship—and my spot on the hockey team—than go out with any other girl.
“Didn’t work out,” I say, hoping he lets it drop.
“Why not?” Logan chimes in, brows knitting together. “Weird fetish?”
My forehead creases. “What?”
“Feet? Daddy kink?”
“What? No, you idiot.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Just wasn’t feeling it.”
