Page 69 of The Off-Limits Play

“Fuck,” Carson mutters.

“Who is—” My question is interrupted by a tap on the window.

Carson clenches his jaw, and I’m pretty sure he’s set on ignoring the guy. Glaring straight ahead, he grips the steering wheel… but the guy keeps on tapping.

I don’t really want to get out of the car because he’s standing right there, but Carson’s not pulling away either.

So, I do the only thing I can.

“No, don’t—” Carson’s words cut off as I lower the window and Mr. Smirky Face leans into the car.

“Hey, Nylah.” He grins.

“Excuse me?” I frown at him. “How do you know my name?”

“Coach talks about you a lot.” He grins, lightly chucking my chin.

“Don’t touch her,” Carson growls.

The guy laughs. “Oh shit, you’ve done it now, McAvoy.”

“Done what?” I look between the two of them. Carson’s nostrils are flaring while the other guy looks like he’s having the best night of his life.

“Coach is going to kill you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Fleischer,” Carson spits. “You don’t know shit.”

Completely unfazed by Carson’s venom, the guy keeps grinning. “Well, it looks to me like you two are on a date, and I might have to tell Coach Jones that you’re breaking a rule that he very explicitly laid out for the entire team.”

I groan and tip my head back. Mostly because I can’t believe Dad did that, but also because I’ve got a show to put on. I can’t go getting Carson in trouble.

“This isn’t a date,” I clarify. Thankfully, it’s easy to sell because it’s the truth. I gently nudge back the guy leaning in my window. “I was babysitting for Zander, and Carson offered to drop me home. That’s all this is.”

His eyes narrow skeptically. “Looked like you two were getting a little friendly. And that?—”

“I don’t know what you saw, but I can assure you that Carson is just dropping me home. So if you could please move your meddling ass, I’ll get out of the car.”

Carson snickers and I open my door, shoving it in this guy’s chest so he’s forced to step back.

“Move along, Fleischer.” I think that’s what Carson called him. Flicking my fingers through the air, I silently tell him to fuck off, and when he doesn’t move, I cross my arms and give him a pointed glare. “Or do I need to let my daddy know that one of his players was harassing me as I was trying to walk to my dorm tonight?”

Fleischer’s head jolts back and he does a quick spin, stalking away from me while muttering something I can’t hear. His buddy moves beside him, and I scowl at their backs until the shadows cast by the trees swallow them up.

“That was beautiful,” Carson calls through the open window. “Thanks for that. I needed a laugh.”

I grin and walk back to the car, leaning my arms along the frame. “You didn’t even crack a smile.” I shake my head.

His lips twitch, and I bite my bottom one.

“Come on. You can do it,” I coax him.

And it was the wrong move, because his lips flatline.

Man, he is one tough egg to crack.

But there’s something about him I just can’t resist.

Holding out my hand, I flick my fingers at him. “Gimme your phone.”

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