Page 52 of Beautiful Collide

I follow Mason, soaking in the vibe. This is my kind of night. I have a good feeling about this year. The team is solid.

Nothing can ruin this. Not even Molly Sinclair, who I spot across the room before I’ve even had my first drink.

She’s leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender, her arms crossed and her face set in that signature Molly scowl. With my post-win high, even she can’t bring me down.

I don’t know why, but seeing her here sends a thrill coursing through me. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Or perhaps it’s because I know nothing she could say tonight will bring me down.

Feeling smug as hell, I grab my drink and make my way over.

Her sharp green eyes flick to me as I approach, and she lifts her drink in a mock salute.

I smirk, closing the distance between us with an arched brow. “And what are you drinking to?”

“Our anniversary.” Her tone is dry before she takes another sip.

I laugh, shaking my head at her. “I’m surprised you’re celebrating it.”

She tilts her chin up, her lips twitching with amusement. “Who says I’m celebrating? Maybe I’m commiserating.”

My hands lift in mock defeat. “Ouch.”

“Just keeping it real.”

Before I can reply, Mason steps up beside us, clapping me on the back. “Hudson, you’re late as always.”

“I carpooled with you,” I deadpan.

He shrugs. “I’ve never met a traffic jam before I met you.”

I roll my eyes, shooting a glance at Molly. “I guess . . . I’m hexed.”

Molly raises an unimpressed eyebrow, her mouth quirking up in a wry smile. “Not everyone can be skilled in being punctual.”

“Or maybe it’s something else,” I retort, narrowing my eyes at her.

Mason’s gaze bounces between us, his brow lifting in curiosity. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Molly says too quickly, her voice a little too steady.

Mason catches on immediately, his lips curving into a knowing grin.

He turns to me with an easy nod. “Good game, man.”

“You too,” I reply, shaking off Molly’s jab as best I can.

From beside me, I hear Molly’s quiet laugh, and I swivel to face her. Her smirk is maddening, and it only grows when she sees my expression.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

She waves a hand lazily, rolling her eyes. “Just you two, patting each other on the backs and telling each other how amazing you are. It’s adorable.”

“Well—”

“Barf,” she interrupts, holding up her martini glass like a shield. “If you say you’re amazing, I’ll throw up.”

“We kind of are amazing,” I say, smirking despite myself.

Molly leans forward slightly, her expression unamused. “Were you watching the same game as me?” she deadpans.

---