“That’s more for you than for me,” I say.
“Come on, you’re my quirky pink Barbie.” Her dark eyes are big and pleading.
The change of scenery could be good. I could use the chance to get out and unwind. Who knows, maybe it will inspire me to figure out the next part of my mural too?
“Deal.”
She hooks an arm around my neck and drags me into her room. Inside her closet, she flips through garments, rejecting one after another in a rainbow collection of labels any designer-loving woman would envy.
I grab my phone while she’s searching to find a text came in from Miles.
Miles: Novaaaaa, we got a win! Broke their streak and their spirit.
Nova: Congrats! :D
Miles: You have to come out and celebrate.
Nova: That’s Brooke’s plan.
He sends through a selfie of him grinning in the locker room.
In the background, Clay is changing.
Jesus.
He’s dressed only in shorts, reaching over his head to stretch. His body is hard and muscled, tattoos decorating every inch of him.
My throat dries.
It should be illegal for any guy to be that sexy, with or without clothes.
I click out of the picture…
And find myself confronted with the text Clay sent before the game.
Grumpy Baller: How’d James like his masterpiece?
I haven’t answered because yesterday messed with my head.
He took so much care helping me with the wall. Listening to me, following my lead. It almost felt like an apology for the past.
But way he grabbed my hand at the end felt very much like the present.
I swear I can still feel his touch.
It doesn’t change anything.
It can’t.
I need to purge these feelings, show us both I’m over whatever we were.
I drop the phone on her bed and cross to the closet, pointing at a silver shift on a hanger. “How about this one?”
“On a Tuesday?”
“Better to be overdressed than underdressed.”
Brooke’s eyes mist. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Damn. Didn’t know the Hadid sisters were making an appearance.”
Brooke and I turn to see Miles behind us at the bar, a grin on his handsome face.
Rookie and Jayden are behind him.
We do look good. She’s wearing a black tube top and matching skirt that show off her figure. I’m in Brooke’s dress that skims my curves and ends mid-thigh. Add my nude heels and my hair falling in waves to my collarbone and I feel sexier than I have in weeks.
The club is packed, though it’s barely eleven, the music pulsing through the floor.
The headliner tonight is Little Queen, one of my favorite DJs, though she hasn’t taken the stage.
“Did you win?” Brooke asks.
“I’m hurt you didn’t check.” Miles leans in, his button-down shirt pulling across his muscled form.
“Not as hurt as you would’ve been if you'd lost to Utah.”
He grins. “We won. Clay and Rookie lit ‘em up.”
Brooke raises a brow. “And you ate popcorn on the sidelines?”
Miles scoffs, surveying the club with a grin. A woman catches his eye, and he nods to her.
“Speaking of, first round’s on me. Coach benched me, but Clay covered for me,” Rookie goes on, nodding across the club.
I follow his gaze to see Clay shaking hands with a man in a suit.
Clay’s gorgeous, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, looking like a god in a room of mortals.
The guy in the suit says something, and Clay grins—that slow, reluctant smile that used to make me melt.
For a moment he looks genuine, the guy who put my drawings out in public and who covers for his teammate.
I pull out my phone and start to type out a response to his text.
Except when I look up, a group of women are swarming him, and it’s like a bucket of ice over my head.
I delete the message without sending it and turn back to the bar, ignoring the disgust in my stomach.
“Come on, let’s dance!” Brooke declares, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the floor.
I toss back my drink and follow her. We throw ourselves into the music as the alcohol buzzes through my system.
The track changes to Drake, and she throws her hands in the air. With every beat drop, every chorus, every remix, I’m more relaxed.
Especially when we go back for a second drink.
“Who did you tell we were coming tonight?” I whisper-shout in her ear. “Jayden or Miles?”
“Miles. Why?”
I lift a shoulder as I spin in a circle. “Just curious.”
I spot him at the bar with Rookie, a blonde and a brunette on either side of them. But Miles is looking toward the dance floor, the smile on his face lingering as he lays eyes on Brooke.
“Did anything ever happen between you two?”
She grabs my arms. “Why do you ask?”
“Because he seems into you.”
Brooke rolls her eyes. “He’s into himself.”
Another guy comes over to dance, and Brooke moves toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. I go to grab another drink and run into Miles.
“Having fun?” he asks.
“Mhmm. Brooke’s brand of fun is contagious.”
We both look toward the floor where she’s still dancing with the guy. Except now she’s scanning the crowd as if she’s over it and looking to get away. She walks away, but he follows her.
Miles stiffens at my side. Brooke spots us and cuts our way, the guy still coming after her. Miles steps between them.
“Outta my way,” the guy spits. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“It’s about her, it’s about me,” Miles says, deadly calm.
“Wait, I know you. You’re on the Kodiaks.”
The guy's grin fades, and he lifts both hands, appreciating how outmatched he is. He accidentally bumps me as he walks away, and I nearly spill my drink, but a hand closes around my wrist, another at my waist.
I look up to see Clay hovering over me.
His hair curls around his ears, still damp from his shower. He’s wearing a dark dress shirt, the top button undone. The sleeves are rolled to expose some of the black ink that enthralled me the first time we met.
He’s so gorgeous it hurts to look at him.
But as the women in the booth give me dagger eyes, I can’t resist engaging.
“You left your fan club,” I inform him.
“Not mine.”
I cock my head. “Pretty sure if they have your name tattooed on them, they’re yours.”
He rubs a hand over his face like he’s trying to hide a smile.
I shouldn’t care. It’s a prize in a game I’m no longer playing.
But I’m not in a hurry to get back to Brooke, who’s safe with Miles, and Clay doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to go anywhere.
He steps closer, doing a slow inspection of my body. “I like your hair.”
“You said that already,” I call over the music pulsing through the club.
“Still true.”
Alcohol buzzes in my veins, giving me a false sense of bravery. I need all my wits to handle him, but thanks to the two drinks, I’m a little short.