Page 18 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

“It’s just Lucas.”

I swallow, and my throat is dry.

Anabelle is staring at me again. But this time there’s something in her eyes that I’ve never seen before.

Respect.

Why is she looking at me like that? It was only a Gatorade. Not a kidney. I don’t need her to be impressed by me. I walk away toward my chair, but someone is behind me. I turn, and Anabelle is following me.

“That was really nice of you to share your drink like that,” she says.

I shrug. “It was no big deal.”

But she continues talking. “You’re a lot nicer than you want people to believe, aren’t you?”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you going to tell all your friends now?”

She smiles, clearly enjoying this way too much. “I might.”

I try to ignore how her smile turns my insides warm. “Well, don’t go spreading lies,” I say and continue to walk to my chair to signal the conversation is over.

But she follows me again, and Nolan is with her now.

“My mom doesn’t lie,” Nolan says.

“He’s right. I don’t.” She smirks.

“Plus, I already told her you’re nicer than you act,” Nolan says, grinning like he’s won the upper hand.

I groan. “Youwhat?” This is only making it worse and worse. The last thing I want is to be known as some big softie.

“It’s not a bad thing, Lucas,” Anabelle says. “Just embrace it.”

Now she’s teasing me. “Maybe you should stop smiling so much all the time. There’s no need to be overly happy,” I say.

She puts her hands on her hips. “You really are a big old storm cloud. What’s your problem, anyway?” she probes. “Daddy issues?”

Actually, yes. Not that I’d tell her that. “Very funny.” When your dad walks out on you as a kid, it tends to mess you up.

“Or is it a bad breakup?” she pushes. “Did you have the love of your life dump you?”

When she stands this close, each individual eyelash is visible, and it’s clear how long and full her lashes are. “Are you trying to be my therapist?” I ask.

“Do you need therapy?” she inquires, her mouth quirking at the edges.

I puff out my chest. “Do you?”

She shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“So, is that a yes?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “What are you hiding, anyway?”

“What makes you say I’m hiding something?” I ask.

She throws her hands up in the air. “Because you’re so closed off.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being an introvert.”

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