Page 48 of Scoring the Player
I shake my head. “There’s nothing happening.”
“Yeah, okay,” he replies.
I squint at his back as a warm sound coats my skin—Salem’s laughter.
Telling myself it’s no big deal, I pull out my phone, find Salem in my contacts and start a text.
Me
Cillian just threatened me with almond cologne or something. TF? How’s your foot?
My hand hovers over send.
“Yo, who got next?” Wes calls out, holding up the game controller.
What am I doing? I backspace on my text.
When I look up, Salem’s on his feet, moving toward the kitchen.
“Me,” I answer, racing over and swapping spots with Wes on the couch.
“Thanks for coming,”Cam says as I’m on my fourth round of the game. My head cranks left, and I catch Salem’s wave goodbye. I hold my breath, as if all the fresh air is about to seep out the door.
“Bro?” Johan says. “You killed us.” He stabs the buttons on his controller. “One more rou?—?”
“I’m out.” I toss my controller and jump up.
I say bye to Cam, then throw up my middle finger at Nick a split second before he fires one at me.
I rip open the front door and freeze as Cillian’s and Salem’s heads twist my way.
Ignoring Cillian’s remember-our-talksmirk, I lock eyes with Salem before headlights have us glancing toward the black car slowing to a stop at the curb. He turns back to me.
My mouth opens, but no words come out.
“Ready?” he says to Cillian before turning and heading toward the car.
“Say something,” Cillian hisses in a whisper.
Shit.
My feet start moving and don’t stop until I’m sliding into the car next to him.
He raises an eyebrow.
The driver asks if we’re ready as Cillian calls out, “I’ll order another one.”
“Y-yes,” I croak to the driver.
Salem studies me before looking away.
We don’t speak.
The entire ride.
He stares out the window, stoic like a sculpted god with ridged cheekbones and a sexy, plump top lip. Vampire memory from our fight all those years ago has my jaw clenching with hunger to sink its teeth in.
What’s wrong with me?
