Roddy is on his stomach, and Zach has him in a headlock.
Roddy attempts to move, but Zach flexes his biceps and holds him down with his massive body.
“How could you?” Roddy manages to pipe out to the bewildered crowd.
I feel so astonished, I don’t even know how to respond.
Zach pulls Roddy to his feet, keeping him in a headlock. Roddy is powerless, his arms pointing toward the sky.
“You happy now?” Roddy whimpers. “I’m broke because of you! My tour is over. My life is ruined!”
“And now you’re going to prison for attempted assault with a weapon, buddy,” Mrs. Reid points out to him.
“Fuck you,” Roddy says, and then he hurls a loogie toward her.
Zach’s expression turns cold.
Zach uses his feet to spread Roddy’s legs apart. “Free shot, Harm. On the house.”
Putting my champagne down, I feel my smile warm my whole body.
I take a few steps toward him, wind up, and kick him straight in the balls.
Roddy lets out a yelp so pathetic, I almost feel bad for him.
And then I remember, it’s Roddy.
Zach lets him tumble to the ground. Roddy curls up in a little ball as security arrives at the door.
“Is the subject disarmed?” the security guard asks.
“He won’t be giving you any trouble,” I say.
As they haul him off, Roddy screams in pain.
I’m not a masochist, but I have to say, that’s the first time the sound of pain has been like music to my ears.
“So where were we?” I say, picking up my glass of champagne.
Zach takes me by the hip and kisses me in front of everyone in the room.
“We were just celebrating the new song you were going to write,” he jokes.
“Oh, right,” I say. “More of an instructional song, really. ‘How to Kick Your Ex in the Balls, metaphorically.’”
Zach’s mom pipes in, shrugging. “I’d listen to that.”
THE END
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I don’t think I’ve ever felt such an intense focus on her. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I growl.
She swallows, and her voice shakes. “I-I’m not sure.”
I give her an up-and-down. “Come with me.”
A look of fear spreads across her face. “No.”
I take her arm, and whisper in her ear, my voice gravelly. “That wasn’t a fucking question.”
I swear I can feel goosebumps rise up on her bare arm.
“Okay,” she gulps. She follows me, and I don’t think she has a fucking clue what’s about to go down.
But neither do I.
All I know is, this girl has the ability to make me lose control, and we’re reaching a boiling point.
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Chapter 1 - Carter
It’s natural to think hate and love are opposites.
They’re not.
Actually, indifference is the opposite of love, not hate.
And indifference is precisely what I’m feeling right now as I stare at the tall blonde I met last night, who is still in my apartment. She’s been lingering this morning, sticking around and watching TV in my penthouse.
The time has come for me to kick her out.
“I have practice soon, so it’s time for you to go,” I say, nicely but without room for discussion.
She blinks a few times, and leans over on the kitchen island, letting out a slow breath. Trying to be cute. “I can just hang out here while you’re gone. And be waiting for you when you come back.” She lifts her eyebrows and tilts her head as she tries to tempt me.
Clenching my jaw, I stare her down.
Last night, we were enjoying ourselves.
But this afternoon, I don’t feel a shred of desire for her.
All I feel is the distinct sensation of wanting this awkwardness to be over, and for her to leave.
Am I an asshole?
Yes. And I’m fine with that.
I was very upfront last night with Natasha about my ‘no strings attached’ policy when it comes to pleasure.
I don’t do relationships. They’re not for me. Maybe I’m paranoid, but when you’re worth millions of dollars you never know how a woman might deceive you. Maybe she’ll play the part of a perfect girlfriend up front, then after a year you’ll find out she has a giant secret she’s been keeping from you, lying to your face every day.
And yes, that’s happened to me.
Natasha stares at me, squinting and giving me this ‘Blue Steel’ type of look where she wants to seem like she’s not trying too hard, but I see right through it.
My eyes drift over to my bookshelf. I notice my copy of The Great Gatsby put on top of the shelf. Natasha must have been reading it.
My muscles quiver, seeing the tattered copy of the book that I read junior year of high school. My then girlfriend Lacy and I would read the passages to each other after school. I was so into her, I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. She asked me why I didn’t press for sex, like the other guys were all doing with their girlfriends. I had this zen calmness back then. I just knew we’d be together forever, so what was the hurry?
It’s funny the things you think you ‘know’ when you’re seventeen.
I ‘knew’ I’d be with Lacy.
I ‘knew’ I was a relationship guy. Not a fuckboy.
Then Lacy broke my heart with a lie.
Little did I know back then, I would become the king of one night stands. And I thank Lacy for breaking my heart to show me that.
Like James Gatz himself, if I reached for a relationship, I’d only be a boat beat back against the current, in search of a green light that doesn’t exist.
Shaking my gaze off from the book, I refocus on Natasha, my smirk returning.
I love my life these days.
I’m twenty-seven years old, just signed my first multi-million dollar contract with the Chicago Wolverines.
I enjoy my lack of responsibility when I’m doing anything besides playing professional basketball.
Noticing me drifting off, Natasha steps around my marble kitchen island and runs her hand along my shoulder.
“You look pensive. Everything alright?”
I swallow, suddenly thinking that maybe my slapstick version of Natasha isn’t appropriate. At least she reads. Maybe I’ve underestimated her, maybe she is relationship material.
“I can be waiting for you . . . when you get back,” she adds, her voice full of sultry suggestion. She runs her tongue over her upper lip.
I tense when her finger grazes me. “Look, Natasha. I think you’re great. Last night—and this morning—was a lot of fun. But you don’t want me, believe me. I have a lot of issues.”