Page 78 of Unwritten Rules
Khai gasps and jumps to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Who told you?”
A shit eating grin splits across my face. “I’m not telling.”
“It was Finn, wasn’t it? That bastard!”
I chuckle and clap a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t need to tell you what could’ve happened if someone caught you having a threesome two hours before the game in the backseat of a girl’s car.” My brows crease into a frown. “Actually, now I’m more curious as to how you made that work.”
“Oh, shut up, Sin.” Khai slaps my hand away and drops onto the bench, head slumping between his shoulders. “If Finn hadn’t caught me, my secret would’ve stayed in the back of that car.”
I exhale a sharp breath. “You’ve got to let this jinx thing go before it starts impacting your career.”
Khai rolls his eyes. “God forbid a man be superstitious.” He reaches for his phone, plucking it off the floor and slipping it into the pocket of his shorts. “And what can I say? I’m a man who enjoys the company of others the night before a game, which happens to turn into sex and results in me performing well in said game. Sue me, Sin.”
“Khai…”
“No, I don’t want to hear it,” he bites out, standing. “I’ve told you before I have no plans to abandon the jinx, not unless I’m proven wrong.”
“Have you ever considered the fact that you might just be a good player?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “Because I’ve seen you out there. As my right-hand man, you help me in ways no one else on the team can. Which I think is accredited to your skill and abilities, not who you fuck the night before.”
Khai runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and grunts, casting his eyes to the floor.
When Khai first told me about this jinx of his when we transitioned to the main roster of the Wolves, I thought he was pulling my cock at first. He was always a jokester growing up, so I thought this was one of those times he would try to make me believe something only to turn around ten minutes later and die laughing at what he thought was the prank of the century.
But the laughter never came, and his need to fulfill the jinx grew with each passing game and season.
I’ve warned him multiple times not to let the jinx get in the way of keeping his head clear, especially the day before a game. The last thing he needed was to get caught in a compromising position—much like he did in Auckland over the weekend—that could see him facing disciplinary action.
“If this has to do with your parents, you don’t have to?—”
“It’s not about them,” Khai squeezes out, running a hand down the side of his face. “I don’t care what they think about me or my career. Their opinion means nothing to me.”
Exhaling a breath, I nod. Growing up, I thought Khai had the coolest parents ever. They were young, fun and always down for a good time. Whenever Khai organised a sleepover with some of the guys from primary school, neither of his parents cared if we were too noisy at three in the morning. His mum made the best chocolate chip pancakes and his dad would sit down with us in the media room to watch re-runs of the footy games from the night before. From the outside looking in, Khai had the perfect life with even more perfect parents.
But then something shifted. Something Khai refuses to tell me about, not wanting to let go of whatever secret he’s holding on to. And I don’t want to pry—not if he doesn’t want to talk about it.
“Just be careful, okay?” I caution with a nod. “Whether you think you have a jinx or not, you’re a fucking phenomenal player.”
Khai grins and opens his arms, gesturing for me to embrace him. “If you wanted to hug me and kiss my cheek, Sin, all you had to do was ask.”
I playfully roll my eyes, refusing his hug before swiping my phone off the ground beside my gym towel. The soft material soaks up the sweat clinging to my face, which is much needed after the intense session I was put through by my best friend. He insisted on getting me into the gym with the excuse that I need to be ready for the round twelve game this Saturday afternoon, on the off-chance I am medically cleared to play.
Two days ago, I had a six-week check-up with Ian while the rest of my teammates were in Auckland. Not having them around, breathing down my neck all desperate to know how the session went, made it a little easier. I’m glad my team cares about me and wants to see me back on the field enough that they’re interested in my recovery, but this was something I needed a clear head for.
You’ve got this.
Tatum’s words got me through the session with Ian, and by the time I walked out, my steps were lighter and my head clearer than when I walked in. She was right about me doing all I could leading up to the check-in. Ian didn’t say much as he looked me over and went through a physical fitness test with me, but I saw the impressed look he tried to hide throughout. If that’s not an indicator that I’m going to be cleared, then I must be fucking blind or seeing shit.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” Khai says as he gathers up his gym bag, stuffing his bottle and towel into it. “I’m so fucking hungry I could eat a horse. Or better yet, one of those insufferable kids outside.”
I burst out laughing as I follow him out of the gym and toward the elevator. “Shit, man, you can’t say stuff like that.”
Khai shrugs as he steps into the elevator. “This is a free country, Sin.”
I shake my head and keep my mouth shut as we ride the elevator to the top floor of the building. When we step through the front door to the apartment, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Like a freak with no self-control, I clumsily reach for the device and drop my bag just inside the door.
I feel Khai’s eyes on me as I read the caller ID on the screen.
“It’s Ian,” I breathe, muscles tight as I stare at the screen.
