Page 67 of Power Play

5 years 3 months ago, June

“Can you believe I’m married?”Colt claps me on the back so hard, I almost spill the drink I’m nursing. Only the fact that it’s almost empty saves me from smelling like a barrel of whiskey.

I move away from him, looking him up and down with a sarcastic smile. “No. I still have no idea what Ava even sees in you.”

He smacks his lips together, grinding his molars. Then he lifts both hands and flips me off.

Throwing my head back, I laugh. “Even after all these years, it’s so fucking easy to rile you up. You fascinate me, Colt, I swear.”

“I shouldn’t have made you Michael’s godfather,” he mutters, loosening his black tie and unbuttoning his white shirt at the collar. “Maybe that would’ve taught you a lesson.”

I press my palm to my chest, feigning offense. “Don’t hurt my feelings like that! I’m the best godfather for Michael. You and I both know that.”

Colt rolls his eyes, but a grin grows on his lips. I break into a smile too, letting my back fall against the chair. It’s a small gathering at the lake house they rented for the ceremony, with about twenty guests. Colt’s and Ava’s parents, a few of his teammates from the California Thunders, a few of the guys from college, Drake, andher.

No matter how much I try, my eyes always involuntarily land on her.

My ex-girlfriend sits beside Ava, a flute of champagne in her hand. She is absolutely divine in her light blue dress with an open back. It emphasizes her hourglass figure, her thin waist and killer hips. With her long blond hair covering her bare shoulders and the immaculate makeup on her face, she is literal perfection. And it aggravates me even more. I should hate her, not salivate over her, dammit.

“You’re staring again,” Colt comments, pouring himself a drink. I extend my glass, and he pours me some whiskey too. “Maybe it’s time you talk to her?”

“What for? I heard everything she wanted to say last time we saw each other.” I gulp down the whiskey and put the empty glass on the table. “Everyone heard.”

I twist my lips into a scowl. The bitterness in my voice isn’t lost on me. If Colt knew how pathetic I was, he would laugh in my face. It’s been almost a year since our breakup—eleven months and twenty-five days, to be precise—and I’m still not fucking over her.

“I don’t know. When you asked if you could bring a plus-one, I kinda expected you to show up with a girl—even one you only invited to piss Layla off.” Colt takes a sip of his drink; his eyes are on me. “But instead you came alone and spent two days in a row watching your ex, while refusing to talk to her.”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” I grumble. “I thought about bringing a friend. But I’m too fucking tired to play pretend to annoy someone who doesn’t care about me.”

Colt keeps quiet, watching me intently. A burst of laughter reaches us from outside, but he doesn’t avert his gaze from me. He’s mulling over his next words, a careful expression on his face. “Have you been with anyone since she broke up with you?”

I jerk my head no. “I haven’t wanted to.”

“I mean physically,” Colt adds. He sets his elbows on his knees, bending forward.

“I haven’t wanted to,” I repeat, this time slower. His jaw unhinges, and he stares at me with such a ridiculous expression, I want to fucking laugh. “I’m fine as it is.”

Colt smiles sadly. “I don’t think you are.” He shakes his head. “You need to fuck her out of your system.”

A thumbs-up is the only way for me to respond to his words. Then I press my palm to my face and drag it down. “That is the worst advice ever. Please never give it to your son; he’d be traumatized.”

“She told you it was just about sex for her, while you were all in, head over heels for her, right?” I nod reluctantly. “And now you’re struggling to get a girl into your bed because?—”

“That’s not the case.” I cut him off and reach for the bottle. Colt snatches it before I have the chance to grab it. “What the fuck?”

“What do you mean?”

I glare at him. “I have no problem getting girls. I don’t want them.”

“So you tried…but you can’t?”

“I didn’t try. I don’t want them.” I reach for the bottle again, and this time he hands it to me, an unreadable expression on his face. As I pour, I tap my foot on the ground, the blood in myveins getting hotter as my irritation grows. “What?” I ask, setting the bottle on the table.

“If you still want her, ignoring her isn’t the way to go about it.”

“What do you suggest I do, huh?”

“Talk to her.” Colt shrugs.

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