Page 47 of Broken Rivalry

I roll my eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at my lips. “Nothing that concerns you, Westbrook.”

He nudges me with his elbow, the smirk never leaving his face. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me it’s nothing when you’ve got that goofy grin on your face even after Coach rode our asses without lube.”

I grimace, but before I can retort, Liam joins us, slinging an arm around each of our shoulders. “I have to agree with Cole here. You’re unusually upbeat today, Hawthorne. Did Poppy give you the keys to the kingdom last night?”

Cole makes a gagging sound, his grin widening. “‘Keys to the kingdom’? Really, Liam? What Grandpa Ashford here wants to know is if Curly showed you her pussy.”

My cheeks heat up, and I shrug off Liam’s arm, trying to play it cool. “Why does everything have to be about Poppy?”

“Because we’ve never seen you smile like this unless it involves her,” Liam points out, not buying my nonchalant act for a second.

I shake my head, attempting to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Can we focus on the upcoming match and not my love life?”

But Cole and Liam exchange a knowing look, their smirks turning into full-blown laughter. “No can do, Ethan,” Cole manages to get out through his guffaws. “Seeing Mr. Stoic all lovestruck and mushy is too good to pass up.”

“Wait until you guys fall head over heels for someone. I’m going to have a field day.”

Cole scoffs, feigning confidence. “Not gonna happen, bro. I’m immune to such afflictions.”

I flip them both off, but they only laugh harder. “You guys are the worst,” I mutter, though I can’t help but join in their laughter.

“She totally gave him the keys, alright,” Cole adds mockingly as I turn to leave. “All. Night. Long.”

The locker room is filled with the usual post-practice banter, but my mind is miles away, caught between the memory of last night and the anticipation of doing it again and again. My fingers hover over the phone, debating whether to call or text Poppy. The thought of hearing her voice is tempting, but the fear of coming off too eager holds me back.

I shove the phone back into my locker, deciding to give it a few more minutes of thought while I shower and change. The hot water does little to ease the tension in my muscles; each drop a reminder of the decision awaiting me outside the stall.

As I’m getting dressed, Liam approaches, his expression stern. “Look, I know you’re all lovey-dovey right now, but you’re not skipping out on the new recruits’ additional training.”

I raise my hands defensively. “I won’t. Promise. Just gotta run home first and grab some stuff for my international relations class. I’ll be back on time.”

Cole chimes in, smirking, “Sure, ‘international relations.’ Is that what we’re calling it now?”

I roll my eyes, shoving him playfully. “Shut it, Cole.”

Liam shakes his head, a trace of a smile betraying his serious demeanor. “Be there, Ethan.”

I nod. “I will.”

The crisp air hits me as I step outside, making my way to the car, and I pull out my phone again, resolved to ask Poppy out on a proper date. But before I can act, the phone vibrates in my hand, and a familiar name flashes across the screen. My stomach tightens.

“Dad,” I answer, my voice steady despite the anxiety curling in my gut.

“Ethan.” His voice is smooth, too smooth, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “I saw the photos of you and the Lockwood girl at the ball. Seems like things are progressing well.”

I grind my teeth, forcing a lightness into my voice that isn’t genuine. “It’s going well, Dad.”

He chuckles, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. “She doesn’t seem to have much of a backbone, does she? A bit too easy, perhaps?”

My hands clench into fists, but I manage to keep my voice even. “She’s not like that.”

He ignores my defense, continuing on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Do you have the box yet?”

“Earning trust takes time,” I reply, my grip on the phone tightening.

He scoffs. “She’s almost ripe, Ethan. Take her to the cabin, fuck her stupid to get me what I need.”

Anger boils inside me, but I swallow it down, masking it with a laugh. “You always have a way with words, Dad.”

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