Page 27 of End Game

“Because she’s a walking nightmare that I don’t want to deal with,” I answer truthfully.

Everleigh’s shaking her head, wrapping her arms around herself like she’s trying to ward off a chill—or my touch. Ouch. “I’m guessing you two used to be involved.”

I nod. “She is a miserable human being. Possessive. A little mean.”

Fine. She’s a lot mean. Nothing made that girl happy. I gave her attention and she wasn’t happy. I brought her around my friends and teammates, and she treated them like garbage. I couldn’t please her—not even in bed.

And trust me when I say I put my all into everything I do—that includes sex. My top priority is making sure the woman I’m with always ends up pleased.

Sometimes multiple times.

“She’s pretty” is all Everleigh says in response.

We remain quiet as we slowly make our way up to the counter, my brain turning over and over what Everleigh said about Portia. Calling her pretty.

She is. But all that beauty hides her shitty personality. If it had been a casual one-night fuck, that would’ve been one thing. But she sucked me in by acting like she was cool. She was down for whatever, always smiling and overly flirtatious. The moment she “got” me, she changed.

Turning sullen and downright angry.

“Just because someone is pretty doesn’t mean that they’re a good person,” I finally say when we’re next in line to order.

I can feel Everleigh’s gaze on me, and when I finally turn to look at her, I see she has a small smile curling her lips. They’re nice lips. Full and pink. Wonder what it would be like, kissing her.

Yeah. I need to push that thought straight out of my brain.

“Oh, I know,” she reassures me. “I’ve met some beautiful people with ugly personalities.”

“Exactly. That’s Portia’s problem.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Me either,” Everleigh readily agrees. “I’d rather you help me figure out what I should order.”

“That I can do,” I say, relief coursing through me. “I usually go with asada when I get a burrito, but their carnitas is pretty good too.”

“What about chicken?”

“I don’t know—not my favorite.”

“I’ll go with the carnitas then.” She offers me a smile, and I automatically smile back at her in return, wondering why she’s not giving me endless shit over basically telling Portia she’s my girl.

Maybe she doesn’t mind,I think as she makes her order and I get another burrito because why not. I won’t eat the whole thing now. I’ll finish off the rest in the morning.

By the time our food is ready, I grab the bag and head outside with her, figuring we’d walk back to the house, where she can eat in peace.

“Want to sit down?” she asks, gesturing toward one of the now-empty tables with her drink.

“Only if you want to.”

People still aren’t paying too much attention to us, which is the only reason I agree to sit here. Most of the time my presence—especially when I’m with other teammates—causes a commotion. When I’m with my boys, I don’t mind. We revel in it.

We settle in at a picnic table, and I watch Everleigh expectantly as she unwraps her burrito and takes a bite. A downright orgasmic sound escapes her when she begins to chew, and I watch her mouth move, staring at her like a dumbass.

“You weren’t lying. This is delicious,” she says once she’s swallowed.

“Told you.” My voice is a rasp, and I clear my throat, unwrapping my second burrito and taking a big bite. “Next time try the asada.”

“Maybe,” she says, her eyes sparkling. Like she’s teasing me. “Just so you know, I’m not the type who does whatever my boyfriend says.”

“Your boyfriend?” I raise my brows, starting to sweat.

---