Page 2 of Bite Your Tongue

“You didn’t have to buy my coffee,” I say, still unsure of why I’m here.

He doesn’t seem overly enthused to see me, confusing me more.

“All good,” he says lowly, and that’s it.

Those two words are all I get before we stand in silence, waiting for our drinks.

Once the barista slides them across the counter to us, we take them before choosing a booth in the corner—or I should say, he chooses it, and I slide in the seat across from him.

He leans forward on his elbows, keeping his voice low. “Do you have any idea why I asked you to meet me?”

I take a sip from my drink, impressed with how smooth it tastes. Sometimes, I find, in places like this, the coffee is high-octane shit that tastes similar to what I’d imagine a tire would. This though? I can work with this.

It’s odd to see someone seem so confident and yet so quiet at the same time. No matter where he is, he seems unimpressed. Being here with me right now is no exception. Besides, there’s a hint of something else in his eyes as he looks across the table at me. I don’t get it, but maybe I will soon.

“I mean, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you heard some things about me and are intrigued.” I shrug. “I’m a good time, Tripp. I’ll admit I have a bit of a record, being that girl.”

He scowls. “You think … you think I asked you out to try to sleep with you?”

“Uh, yeah?” I say and take a long gulp from my cup.

“Well, I didn’t,” he says bluntly, almost making me spit my coffee out from his sheer boldness.

“Well, all righty then,” I mumble. “Way to let a girl down easy, Trippy. Would you like me to put a paper bag over my head so that you don’t have to stare at me?”

“What?” He frowns, taking his own coffee in his hand and bringing it closer to him. “No, I didn’t mean—that isn’t why I wouldn’t ask you out. You’re hot and all, but you’re Sawyer’s sister. You’re forbidden fruit.”

“Eh, most of his buddies over the years would beg to differ,” I say nonchalantly.

It’s no secret that I have a history of “accidentally” seducing his friends and teammates. I don’t mean to. Sometimes, a guy is nice to me, we have a good time, and—bam—my panties come off. I always think each one will be different, but it never happens that way.

He takes a sip from his coffee, swallowing it and taking another. “Not bad,” he whispers before sitting back. “So,obviously, you dated Rowan Epscott for a while. That’s no secret.”

I swear I must flinch. Hearing that asshole’s name is a direct slap in the face. It’s been weeks since he broke up with me, and I’d be perfectly content with going the rest of my life without seeing him. I’m no angel, nor do I typically get attached. But with him, he charmed my pants right off … literally. I fell hard. Not in love, but into deep lust. Then, one day, he basically made me feel like a cling-on, and he dumped my ass—in front of a few of his friends. All while talking crudely about our sex life. I was disgusted and hurt. I wanted to strangle him with my own two hands.

“Yeah, and?” I toss back sharply. “Why would that be a reason to ask me for coffee? I hate that motherfucker.”

Tripp grows visibly uncomfortable, which isn’t his norm. Usually, he’s like stone. He is never one to waver or flinch, and yet right now, he’s grimacing.

He taps his fingertips nervously against the table while staring down at them. I can’t even see his feet, but from the way his body is moving, it’s clear that he’s tapping his foot.

“There’s no easy way for me to tell you this, Saylor. And to be honest, I hate that I have to be the guy to tell you at all. Unfortunately, I’m the one who overheard him mutter a name after he showed a clip of a video to some of the team.” He stops, and his eyes lift to mine.

His face is paler than usual, and I frown, unable to figure out what the hell Tripp is trying to tell me.

“I don’t understand?” I manage, but it’s barely audible. “What are you even saying?”

“The other day, a few of us were in the locker room, and Rowan started playing a video.” He swallows. “It was him … with a woman. He was behind her … you know.”

“They were having sex?” I guess, narrowing my eyes as I try to follow along. “I don’t really care, Tripp. He and I haven’t been together for weeks. He can fuck who he wants, and they can pretend to be satisfied.”

He slides one hand to the back of his neck, squeezing. “Saylor, the others didn’t know it was you in the video—at least, I don’t think they did. But … I did.”

I stare at him for I don’t know how long. Understanding what he’s saying, but not being able to fully grasp it enough to respond.

Finally, I open my mouth, and the words slowly fall out. “What you’re saying is, he took a video ofus…having sex.” I force myself to utter that last word, just for clarification. “That’s what you mean?”

“Yes,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry to say, he did.”

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