Page 15 of Bad Call

“Yeah, we should probably get our own table,” he smirked.

Talk about awkward, and that was before we walked in. Every head turned to us. Well, to me. These guys were not my biggest fans tonight.

One set of eyes fell heavier than the rest. Deep blue eyes, the color of the ocean. I couldn’t shake them. Casey watched me constantly, as if he were personally offended by my presence, that I dared enter his elite sphere.

He could kiss my fucking a?—

“Do you know what you’reordering?”

“Just get me a burger, fries, and a soda. I’m gonna hit the bathroom.”

Anything to avoid the oppressive weight of his stare. I stood at the sink, cold water rinsing the soap from my fingers, when the door opened and slammed shut. It wasn’t until I heard a distinct click of the lock that I looked up.

“Did you come to rain on my parade? It wasn’t enough to throw me out of the game? You had to ruin my team’s celebration as well?”

Casey’s glare was hot enough to burn a hole through the back of my head.

I met his hostile eyes in the mirror. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for Marcus, who’s here for Austin. Not everything is about you, Collins.”

“When it comes to you, I’m starting to think it’s always about me.” He slowly closed the distance between us, coming closer with each step.

I turned to face him, bracing for a fight. “It’s not personal. I call them like I see them.”

“You couldn’t call a fucking taxi,” he burned angrily.

Completely lacking self-preservation, I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was actually funny. He looked so pissed off and grumpy and… soCasey. “Lighten up, Collins. I would have to care for it to be personal, and I couldn’t care less about you.”

Total fucking lie.

The toes of his cleats bumped against mine as he got right up in my face. God, he was so close, close enough tokiss. “You are undoubtedly the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

Just before he stormed out of the bathroom, making a dramatic exit, I said happily, “Call me!”

Casey let the bathroom door slam shut. I breathed a heavy sigh and returned to the mirror, studying my reflection.

Why did I care so much what the man thought of me?

My food was growing cold by the time I rejoined Marcus. The boys at the table across the way were growing rowdy, focused on each other instead of me,except Casey. He continued to stare. I was beginning to feel as grumpy and petulant as he’d acted. Why was he so fixated on me? Casey was intent on making me as miserable as he was. I slumped in my chair and returned his glare as he slurped from his straw, his eyes burning me alive with contempt.

Yeah, fuck him. I could angry-eat as well!

Grabbing a long fry from my plate, I popped it between my lips and snapped off small bites as I stared back, pretending it was his…

“Did those fries piss you off?” Marcus joked, trying to lighten my mood.

“Too salty,” I lied. Casey jabbed his straw into his mostly empty glass, stabbing cubes of ice like they were my head. I picked up the pickle spear beside my burger and licked a stripe down its length, relishing the sour tang. Casey knocked over his glass, apologizing profuselyto his assistant coach seated beside him. I laughed too loudly, drawing Marcus’s attention.

He followed my line of sight to Casey. “If you’re finished face-fucking that pickle, we can take this to go.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” I agreed. I needed to get out of there before I embarrassed myself like he had.

My new home, an apartment on the fourth floor of a newer mid-rise building, was decorated in shades of beige and cream with warmer accents on the bedding and drapes, but it still lacked the warmth and personality of Marcus and Austin’s home. Maybe that was why I preferred to spend more time there than here. They also had better food—home-cooked and healthy. After a hot shower, I crawled into bed and turned on Sports Center for background noise. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and started to scroll through social media.

It was the red and gray that first caught my eye—the Muskrats’ team colors. I recognized Austin and a few of his teammates being interviewed in the locker room. Muting the TV, I turned up my phone’s volume to listen.

“Austin Healey, star pitcher for the Muskrats. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

He grinned charmingly. “Chocolate with peanut butter,” he answered easily.

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