Page 16 of Unwritten Rules
“Heyyy,” I greet with an overly large smile that doesn’t fit my face. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Sinnett shoves his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and tilts his head to the side. The curve of his jaw is enhanced with each clench of his teeth as if he’s fighting the urge to speak what’s on his mind or stay silent. Despite the venomous glint in those dazzling eyes and the stiffness in his shoulders, he looks the same as when I last saw him.
“What are you doing here?” His deep voice vibrates through every inch of my body like a sound wave. “You’re not following me, are you?”
My eyes round at the edges. “What? No, I’m not following you. If I wanted to follow you, it certainly wouldn’t be to the sideline of a footy game.”
Sinnett blinks at me, unimpressed with my response.
God, what happened to the man I met one week ago? Sure, he only wanted to fuck me in his car and never see me again, but he was at least respectful and somewhat kind. Now he’s broody and grumpy as hell. Why the switch up?
I exhale a long breath and run my fingers through the end of my ponytail. A whistle sounds behind me, followed by tense voices. I’m not sure what’s happening on the field, and even if I wanted to know, Sinnett has my attention held hostage with his intense ocean eyes and looming presence.
“I’m not following you, I promise,” I offer with a shrug. “I work for the Wolves.”
Sinnett’s neatly shaped eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, getting lost behind the loose waves falling over his forehead. “Youwhat?”
“Yeah. I’m the club’s new physio.”
For a split second, I think I see the colour drain from Sinnett’s face. But just as quickly, it returns in full force, making me think the lights in the stadium had simply washed out his skin.
“Oh,” he murmurs. A hand slips out from the pocket of his hoodie to run through his messy hair. “I didn’t know.”
“Do you play for the Wolves?” I ask. Why else would he be here? He’s not in uniform, so he must be part of the club in some capacity.
Sinnett nods. “Yeah, I do.”
My eyes drift from his face, down the curve of his throat, over his broad chest and down to his jean-clad thighs. The same thighs I bounced on when I was?—
I clear my throat as an excuse to redirect my mind to the present. “Are you injured? Is that why you’re not playing?”
All Sinnett manages is a nod before he points a finger behind me. “I need to get going.”
“Oh, right,” I say, rubbing my right hand over my left arm. “Don’t let me keep you from your team.”
Sinnett drags his tongue over his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll see you around, strawberry.”
“I hope not,” I utter before I stop to think about what I’m saying. It’s a knee jerk reaction to our last conversation, when we said we hoped to never see each other again. But now I just sound like an asshole.
To my surprise, Sinnett chuckles as he walks past me, his shoulder brushing mine.
I spin on my heels and watch his broad back as he walks toward the row of white plastic chairs where some of the players are seated. Each step is met with him putting more pressure on his left leg than his right. Did he hurt his leg? He greets each one of them with what I assume is a bro handshake before he settles between two of the players.
My brows furrow as I sit down on my chair, unable to focus on the game. From the brief interaction with Sinnett, I can’t see any physical injuries that might require him to be sidelined. But then again, he is wearing a black hoodie and jeans, covering the majority of his skin. The injury must be serious if he’s not playing, or he could have a strain that has forced him to sit out for one game.
Despite my better judgment, I glance over my shoulder and find Sinnett is already watching me. Warmth burns in my cheeks the second our eyes clash. Every muscle in my body is yelling at me to look away, but somehow, I’m trapped by his intense stare. We stay like this, watching each other for what feels likean eternity before Sinnett’s attention is drawn away by one of his teammates.
I snap my head forward to stare at the field as the two teams come barrelling past. My pulse thumps at the base of my throat and I’m very aware of the blood rushing through my veins.
What the hell was that?
I mean, I would have to be a rock to not be attracted to a man like Sinnett, but that interaction was… different, and unlike anything I’ve ever felt. If I were to touch my skin, it would sizzle beneath my fingertips. My heart races to the point it might jump from my throat and crawl over to Sinnett like it’s offering itself on a silver platter for him to stomp on.
The crowd erupts into a cheer, forcing my eyes off the ground to watch the Wolves celebrate another try. I blow out a deep exhale and lean back against the plastic chair.
Even with my attention now on the game, Sinnett’s intense eyes take up space in my mind. It’s like I’m looking at the field with blue-tinted glasses.
I groan and run a hand down my face.
