Page 64 of Beautiful Collide

“’Cause I looked.”

Of course, he did.

I roll my eyes. “Maybe someone will switch with me.”

“Am I that bad, Hex?” He drops his chin, giving me his best wounded-puppy-dog face. A lesser woman might crumple. I am not that woman.

“Stop calling me that,” I hiss.

“Nope.”

The nickname. Always. Years later, and it still feels like nails on a chalkboard. All because of one mistake years ago.

And well, maybe a few times after too.

I’ll never live any of it down.

I thought that he’d be too busy being the team playboy to even give a fuck about me, but I was wrong.

That coupled with what happened the following year, and well, the next . . .

Every season starts the same way. I think it’s going to be different, yet here we are.

Rinse, wash, repeat.

Instead, one small lie has grown fucking tentacles. The truth is, none of the shit I did even hurt him.

The man has sponsors and a new woman every day.

The man is the biggest player I have ever met.

He might hate me, but really, we’re all better off.

Letting out a sigh, I admit defeat. Guess this seat will have to do. Lucky me.

It won’t be that bad. I’m sure Hudson will be busy, and I’ll listen to my earphones. I plop down in the seat and pull open my bag that’s now on my lap.

My fingers start to riffle through all the crap I have in there.

Receipts I don’t need, gum wrappers, a notebook I forgot I owned, and oh my God, what is this. . . a candy bar? Who knows how old it is. This bag really is a black hole.

“Damn, maybe I should call you Mary Poppins.”

I turn to look at Hudson, my brow lifting in question.

“You know, because your bag has all sorts of crazy shit in there. Do you have a lamp?”

Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “No, I don’t have a lamp.”

“You sure? Have you checked? I bet you do.” He grins. That grin—dangerous and disarming. It’s no wonder half the women in this city fall at his feet. However, I’m not one of them. But if I’m being honest, if he wasn’t such a pain in the ass, I might fall for it. But unfortunately for him, I’m not interested. Not that I think he is.

With my free hand, I pull the opening wider and bend my head farther down to peer inside.

“Find whatever you’re looking for yet?” he asks from beside me, his gaze practically burning a hole in my side. I wish he’d just mind his own business and leave me alone. Or is that asking too much? Maybe this is my karma—having to put up with his sarcastic quips as my penance.

“Do you ever stop?” I snap, frustration bubbling over.

“No. Not really. Especially when it does what I hope it will,” he replies, a smirk playing on his lips.

---