Page 77 of Puck Prince

“I should be asking you the same damn thing.” I punch the button much harder than necessary.

“I was having dinner with the team. Having a good time, too, actually.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” I snort. The door opens and we get in.

“I’m sorry—am I not allowed to have a good time unless it’s with you? Because if that’s the kind of boyfriend you are, I’m glad this whole thing has an expiration date.”

“Do you think you could say that just a little bit louder? Jesus. It’s like you’re trying to blow our cover.”

“We’re alone in an elevator!” She very much does not lower her voice. “And since when do you care about making a scene? You’re the whole reason we are in this situation!”

I whirl around to face her, not realizing how close she’s standing until my body is pressed against hers.

“I am trying to protect you.” I’m talking through my teeth at this point. Because she drives me crazy. In more ways than one, unfortunately.

Goddammit, she looks good tonight.

She changed out of her normal athletic pants and team shirt after the game. Now, she’s in a pair of ripped jean shorts and a cropped tank top. It’s not that I haven’t seen her body before, but fuck me… something about her now has me damn near feral.

I shake my head. “Did that ever occur to you?”

“That you weren’t just doing all of this for selfish reasons?” She pretends to consider it for a second, her full lips pursed. “No. No, it did not.”

The elevator opens, and she stomps out and down the hall. She stops in front of her room, which is right across from mine.

Because of course it is.

“Callie, wait. We need to talk.”

She pulls her room key out, but before she can slide it in the slot, I cover it with my hand.

She lets out a persecuted sigh and rolls her eyes up to mine. “Fine. Move your hand and you can come in. But just to talk.”

“Obviously.”

The moment the door closes behind us, my breath catches in my throat. The entire room smells like her. How is that even possible already?

Why is this so hard? Why does this infuriating woman make… everything… so… hard…

Fuck.

“Alright. Talk.” She sits down on the bed, her eyes spearing into me.

Words. Right. I can do this.

“You need to calm down on the banter with the guys.”

I start there because telling her to stay in her room really would be territorial. And she isn’t my territory. Not really.

“You’re not serious,” she spits out. “I can talk to anyone I want. Also, I work with them.”

“But you’re doing more than talking. You’re…” I scratch my head. “Flirting.”

Callie’s eyebrows fly up to her hairline as she lets out a barking laugh. “Are you for real right now? What, are you jealous?”

“Why the hell would I be jealous?”

That’s a good question. Great question, actually. Maybe I should’ve thought that one over downstairs before I stepped out of the corner. But it’s too late for that now. Here we are.

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