Page 9 of Mr. Irrelevant
She swallows, shaking her head as she glues her bright blue gaze to her lap. “Nothing.”
My brows bunch, a sudden instinct to protect her washing over me like a bucket of ice water. I don’t really even know why. Livvy is a strong, independent woman. She doesn’t seem like she’d have a problem speaking up if someone upset her. But the person I’m looking at right now—the one who looks equal parts sad and humiliated—is the furthest thing from the Olivia Grant that rips me a new asshole every time I make a stupid mistake.
I shift, reaching out and turning her to face me with a finger under her chin. Her eyes fill with tears, and the rage that was attempting to break through the surface just moments ago melts away, only to be replaced by the overwhelming need to fix whatever has her feeling this way. “Talk to me, Dimes. What was that?” I ask softly. We haven’t known each other that long, but I hope she knows she can trust me.
She takes a breath, her plump lower lip trembling for just a moment before she pulls it between her teeth. I wait patiently for her to collect herself, until finally, she speaks.
“It’s my ex. When he broke up with me, he said it was because I wastoo much. He wanted someone who was less opinionated and softer spoken. Unfortunately, that happened to be one of my best friends. I suspectthat he was cheating on me with her because she was moving into his house less than a week after we ended things, but I can’t prove it. Every now and then, he posts videos or photos of them to his social media stories, and since I’m still in his Close Friends group, I get the particularly intimate ones.”
I try my best to keep my expression neutral because, although I don’t fucking understand why she’d subject herself to this, I want to. “How come you haven’t blocked him?”
She shakes her head slowly, fidgeting with the material of her oversized sweatshirt. “It’s…complicated. He’s in the league, and I didn’t want to look petty by unfollowing him, so I just ignore it. And it’s not that I’m not over him—I definitely am. But there was a point where we were really happy together, and it still kind of hurts knowing she’s everything I’m not.”
After she offered to coach me, I Googled Livvy. I came across some photos of her with Deacon Underwood from the Cincinnati Impact, so I’m guessing that’s who she’s talking about. I met the guy once at a photoshoot and he was a total douche nugget, which struck me as odd considering he’s spent more time on the practice squad than he has the fifty-three-man roster since he was drafted. He got his big break last year after their starting defensive end got injured, then their backup a week later. You’d think he’d be humble, knowing how quickly things can come and go in the league, but nope. He acted like he was better than everyone there, refusing to even sit with us when Craft Services brought in lunch.
“Look at me,” I say firmly. She does, and I do my best to search for the words I know she needs to hear right now. “You are the strongest, smartest, most intriguing woman I’ve ever met. If this idiot can’t see that, let him go find less. I promise it won’t make him happy in the end. And one day, you’re going to find someone with a monster cock and good credit—or whatever you girls are into these days—and he’s going to love every bit of your sassy fucking attitude.That’swhat you deserve, Liv. Not some dipshit who’s so threatened by your independence that he has to humiliate you to feel better about himself.”
She lifts her chin, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you.” I can tell my words made her feel a little better, but her normal radiance is still dimmer than I’m used to. I want to give Deacon a taste of his own medicine for making her feel like she isn’t enough—because she absolutely is.
“Have you ever…” I pause, a devilish smirk breaking free and blooming across my face, “considered being just alittle bitpetty?” Her brows pull in as a blanket of confusion slips over her features, so I keep going before she can say anything. “I mean, he obviously knows you’re going to see the things he posts. Haven’t you ever wanted to flip it back on him?”
She scrunches her nose. “Like, posting pictures and videos of myself with guys?”
I shrug, sitting back against the couch cushions and extending my arms along the top as I relax. “Why not? You don’t have to make them totally public. Just make a group where he’s the only member. You can keep yourface out of it and everything—all that matters is thathe knowsit’s you. It doesn’t have to be some crazy, raunchy dry-humping situation. Just…show him that you can give it as good as he can.”
Her lips push into a thoughtful pout as she considers it. I can tell she’s doing her best to take the high road right now, but there’s no harm in putting this asshole in his place, especially when he’s gotten away with it scot-free so far. “It might feel kind of good to show him that I’m not just sitting here lonely while he’s living his life.” She exhales a frustrated huff. “But I haven’t dated anyone in months. Am I just supposed to text some random guy from a dating app and ask him to pose for some faceless photos?”
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
“I’ll do it,” I blurt, internally cringing at how fucking pathetic I sound. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to encourage her to go on a date with a stranger and ask him to take pictures with her—pictures where they’d definitely be touching each other. He might expect more, which would make her uncomfortable, and I’m not about to let that happen.
She chokes on a laugh. “What?”
I try to act unaffected, even though the thought of getting close to her in a way that isn’t football-related makes my heart feel like it might explode in my chest. Last week at the field was totally different territory, even though things got a little heated between us. That was there, where we had been practicing in a neutral space. Now, we’re here in my living room, with dimlighting and nobody for miles. But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to help her with this. “Do you really want to sit through an actual date, trying to figure out if you have enough chemistry with a guy to be comfortable taking photos together? Even if he knows the plan going into it, there’s no guarantee that the end result will be believable. We could just do it right here, no awkward dinner conversations necessary, and go back to watching tape.”
She chews her lower lip, letting my words settle in for a moment. Nervous energy pumps through my body because while I consider Livvy to be a friend at this point, I can’t deny the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous. I’m offering to do this for her, but I’d be lying if I said it would be a hardship to put my hands on her again. Especially knowing that, even though Deacon won’t know who’s in the picture with her, it’ll be me he’s jealous of.
“Okay, fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But we have to make sure your face isn’t in the frame. My dad doesn’t know I’m coaching you, and I doubt he’d be cool with me looking all cozy with one of his players.”
I nod my head. “We can use your phone. That way, you can crop and edit whatever you want. And we’ll take some extras in case your ex acts up again and you need to shut his ass down.”
She takes a confident breath, straightening her back and lifting her phone up in front of her. “Yeah. Okay. How should we, umm…” she trails off, so I decide to make the first move. I can tell she’s a little apprehensive, but this should be fun for her. I want her to feel empowered if and when she sends these pictures to him, and I hope it’s something she remembers the next time he tries to make her feel bad.
“Get up here,” I say, reaching over and grabbing her by the hips until she’s sitting across my lap. She squeals, going rigid for just a moment, but I pull her closer anyway. “Was he much of a cuddler? What’s something he never did, but you wish he had?”
She scoffs, her muscles loosening slightly. “He wasn’t a cuddler at all—said it made him too hot. If we were kissing and there was tongue involved, it was because he wanted sex. There was like, zero romance in our relationship, but I respected his boundaries. I’m not the type of girl whoneedsto be swept off her feet, but it would’ve been nice every once in a while.”
Well, that won’t do. I’m a firm believer that every girl should know what it’s like to be worshiped. The fact that Deacon dropped the bag with Livvy so badly is a tragedy—one that I’m happy to fix for her, even if it’s just for the camera.
I settle further into the plush couch cushions, bringing her with me as I wrap my arms around her waist. “Well,” I reply, nuzzling my nose into her hair. Her fresh, clean scent fills my lungs, and my heart beats wildly inside my rib cage as she slowly relaxes into me. “I love to cuddle, so how about we show him what he missed out on?”
She swallows thickly, nodding her head as she opens the front-facing camera on her phone and holds it out in front of us. I immediately notice the unsureexpression on her face, which I get, because we’re not a couple, and this is a bit of a weird situation. Other than the handful of times we’ve touched at the practice field, most memorably when I slid my hands between her legs, this is new for us. But if this is going to work, it needs to look like it happened organically.
“Hey, Dimes,” I say quietly, my mouth hovering next to her ear. My breath fans across her cheek, and she exhales as the sound of my own blood pumping between my ears gets louder. At this point, I’m doing everything I can to keep it from rushing to my dick, because with the way she’s sitting, she’d definitely feel me getting hard. Butfuck. I didn’t anticipate my body reacting to her so quickly. She’s warm and soft, and my head spins more and more every time I breathe her in. I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to really be able to run my hands over her lush curves, pulling to the surface all the gasps and moans I’m hoping she’s struggling to hold back right now.
“Yeah?” she replies, her voice a breathy whisper. I take a chance, covering the hand that’s resting on her lower stomach with my own, flattening it over the sliver of exposed skin between her waistband and the hem of her shirt, and slowly dragging it upward. I can feel her abdominal muscles trembling beneath her palm as we make an agonizingly slow ascent, but right before we reach the bottom of her bra, I pause. I keep my gaze trained on the phone screen, and as soon as her eyes begin to glaze over with lust, I ghost my lips along her cheek.
“Take the picture,” I mumble. She doesn’t follow myinstruction; instead, she lets her lids flutter closed. I chuckle, reaching my free hand up and wrapping it around hers that’s gripping the phone before pressing the shutter button. The screen goes black as it captures the moment, snapping her out of the trance she’s under before she stiffens in my lap. She immediately goes to move off me, but I don’t let her, gently digging my fingers into her waist to keep her right where she is.
