“No, it doesn’t,” he argues. “I liked her before. And if I was pursuing her anyway, what’s the harm in cashing in on it? Besides, I’m here on scholarship, and after my knee injury––”
“Tell me, Burrows,” I interrupt. “How much money is Blake’s virginity worth?”
His jaw flexes. “I don’t care about––”
“You had to have put something on the line to participate, didn’t you?”
The silence is tense and heavy, but the bastard stays quiet, his posture stiff.
“Tell me,” I order.
He clears his throat but avoids my gaze. “The entire team chipped in a hundred bucks each.”
“And winner takes all?” I ask.
He looks at me again, his dark eyes sparking with determination. “It isn’t about the money.”
With a dry laugh, I fish my wallet out and slap a crisp, one-hundred-dollar bill onto the bench press. “Yet you just admitted you could use the cash.”
“I was interested in Blake before any money was on the table,” he reiterates, glancing at the hundred dollar bill between us. “Why are you putting anything into the pot?”
“Since apparently you and the other assholes need it, I might as well do my part to help you guys out, right?”
“So, you’re not gonna try to sleep with her?”
I laugh darkly and stand up. “She’s my best friend’s little sister.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I wouldn’t touch Blake if my life depended on it.”
“Well, at least the feeling’s mutual,” a strong, feminine voice interrupts.
Our necks snap in its direction.
Blake’s standing at the entrance of the gym, her arms crossed over her white LAU tank top. I don’t know how long she’s been standing there. I don’t know if she heard about the bet, or if she only caught the part about me not wanting to touch her. Neither option makes me feel any better, though. Especially not after the shit I pulled last night.
“Blake, ” Burrows starts.
She lifts her hand and cuts him off. “Whatever weird pissing contest or…whatever it is going on between you two needs to stop. Burrows, I know I’ve already said it, but I’m really sorry my age and Theo’s neanderthal behavior got in the way of us having a good time last night.” She turns to me, and whatever warmth had been in her expression morphs into a damn ice storm. Angry. Frigid. And sharp as shit. “Teddy. For someone who likes to remind me I’m a child, you sure as hell acted like one last night, and unless I get an apology––a sincere one––I don’t want to hear a damn word out of your mouth. Are we clear?”
I open my mouth to reply, and her eyes narrow in a silent warning.
Tongue in cheek, I close my mouth again and lift my chin, acknowledging I’ve heard her loud and clear.
“Good,” she snaps, her voice just as sharp as before. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turns on her heel and marches down the hall. A glimpse of her tight ass in her jeans tattoos itself into my mind as she walks away. I shake my head and stare at the floor instead, grappling for images of Grandma Taylor in a bikini, but it does shit to erase how good Blake looks when she’s feeling particularly spicy like this morning.
I swear the girl is trying to kill me.
A few of our teammates enter the gym, stopping short when they feel how charged and tense the room is after Blake’s interruption.
And combined with Burrows, who’s glaring at me like I kicked his puppy? Well, at least I’m not the only one feeling the animosity directed at me.
Colt chuckles as he scans the space, approaching me with a crooked half-smirk. “I assume Blake’s here already?”
“So, you could feel the chill of the Ice Witch too?” I counter, my tone thick with sarcasm.
Colt’s attention shifts to Burrows. “Did he apologize for last night yet?”
Burrows shakes his head. “Not sure he knows how to form the words.”
With a laugh, Colt picks up the hundred dollar bill and sits next to me, keeping the money raised in the air. “What’s this?”
“Theo’s apology,” Burrows mumbles, taking the cash from Colt’s fingers and slipping it into his pocket. “Good chat, Theo.” He turns on his heel and heads toward the locker room.
The rest of the team follows Burrows, leaving me alone with Colt in the weight room. I don’t blame them. I wanna get the hell out of here too. Especially when I know Colt well enough to guess he wants to have a little chat. I also know him well enough to guess where he wants the conversation to go.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I stay seated on the bench press and wait.
Colt folds his arms, watching me, but he doesn’t say a word.
Guess he doesn’t have to.
I already know I screwed up.
A pool of guilt collects in my stomach. Scratch that. The guilt’s been sitting in my stomach since last night. Maybe even before then. Now, it’s rising. Churning. Mixing with regret and attraction and indecision and anger and frustration and––
Taking off my hat, I slap it onto the bench press and snap, “Just say it.”
“Say what?”
“Whatever you’re wanting to say.”
Colt scratches at his temple with his index finger but stays silent for another second, then mutters, “Can I ask you something?”
With my elbows on my knees, I stare at the flecks of gray in the white laminate floor and mumble, “Sure.”
“Why are you an ass to her?”
Frowning, I look up at him. “I’m not––”
“You are. And I wanna know why. It’s been worse since she moved in with Ash and the girls.”
Yeah, it’s been worse, I think to myself. Because I haven’t been able to escape her since she moved here. I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. I haven’t been able to think straight. I can’t even come to practice anymore without seeing her. It’s messing with my head and my resolve. It’s driving me fucking crazy.
Picking up my hat, I fidget with the brim, dragging my thumbs along the edge, muttering, “Blake and I have never exactly been close.”
“And I call bullshit.” Colt laughs. “She always liked you ‘cause you were nice to her. You didn’t care when she tagged along with us or wanted to play whatever we were playing when we were kids. But when we went to high school, you started acting like an ass––”
“It isn’t my fault I want to keep her safe,” I say through clenched teeth. I force my jaw muscles to relax and glance back at him. adding, “Just like you do.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno, man. Feels different with you two.”
I force a laugh, but there isn’t any humor in it. “Not sure what you mean.”
“Me neither,” he admits. “But I don’t like seeing my sister hurting. And I really don’t like how it’s you who’s hurting her.”
“I’m not––”
“Last night was a dick move, and you know it,” Colt says. “I need my best friend and my sister to get along, especially when my sister lives with my girlfriend. I need you to fix this.”