A mistake I made.
We got drunk, slept together, and he proceeded to try to hold it over my head.
It wasn’t until I shot back how I would rat him out to my dad that he quickly quieted that down.
However, it doesn’t stop him from trying to cock-block me anytime he sees another man around.
Our eyes connect as if he already knows who I’m speaking to. Judging by how his eyes narrow and his jaw clenches, he does.
"What's going on?" James demands, his voice laced with an edge I know too well.
I plaster a fake smile, trying to downplay the situation because he can kick rocks. "Just catching up with a friend.”
"Friend, huh?" James raises an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. "Didn't know you were into the stalker type."
I shoot him a warning look, silently urging him to back off. "He's not a stalker. And it's none of your business, James. If it were, I’d put a note in your locker to make you aware of it. However, my life is off-limits to you and everyone on this team. The only person I answer to is my father. Your coach.”
His blue eyes tighten a little bit at that friendly reminder. And I’m not above playing the card continuously, either.
"It is when it involves someone sneaking around our game," James retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “And, since you are Coach’s daughter, you’re privy to information that doesn’t need to go into the wrong hands.”
“Don’t tell me that scares you,” I return tersely. “Or him, for that matter.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, sure. I’m terrified.”
I shoot James a glare that could melt steel. "Thanks for your input, James," I say through gritted teeth. “But, the last time I checked, we didn’t fuck with each other like that anymore.”
“We could’ve if you didn’t act like a baby about it.”
“Says the dude that spread it around the whole team like you needed your dick energy to get bigger. You’re a clown, James.”
His smile is evil, but he doesn’t lose his cool as quickly as Charles. “And you’re hopefully still tight.” He salutes me with two fingers. “He shows up again, and we have something planned for him.”
My cell phone buzzes in my hand, but I don’t break my gaze off James until he does.
This is going to get ugly.
This can’t happen.
WELLS: Tell James to stay away from you. I don’t like him.
RORY: That would make two of us.
RORY: Don’t pull this again. He’s already making threats.
WELLS: To you?
RORY: To you. Don’t mess your team up. This isn’t worth it. James is petty, and with Charles, you’ve already gotten a teammate with a broken leg. They’ll do something else.
WELLS: I’ll be on the lookout, Snowflake, if it makes you feel better. But they can only get away with so much on the ice.
RORY: They intimidate some of the refs, Killer. You don’t need to be on the wrong side of that.
WELLS: I know what they do. And we know how to work around it.
That doesn’t make me feel better, but I’m not his mother.
WELLS: I like you, Snowflake.