Page 32 of Treacherous
I sigh. Part of me was hoping she wouldn’t notice, but that was too optimistic of me. Jaz and Willow have been best friends for years, of course, they know each other’s coffee order.
“We have class together today, and this is my apology gift.”
Jazmine continues to eye me suspiciously. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” I curse myself for responding immediately. That is guilty behaviour 101, but my sister does not need to know I nearly kissed her best friend, and now, want to fuck, said best friend.
“Sure,” Jaz drags out. “Those drinks won’t be too long,”
I scroll on my phone, waiting for my order to be finished. How to approach this conversation with Willow has been playing on my mind. I can’t blurt out that I think we should fuck away the tension between us because I’m confident she will break my nose.
The thing is, Willow is attracted to me–she can’t deny the heat that consumed her gaze when I inched my lips closer to hers. I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman more than in that moment. A shiver shoots up my spine, my pants tightening.
Fuck me.
Just thinking about devouring Willow’s lips and I’m hard. I want to see how close I can get to the fire that burns within Willow, even if I’m burned in the process.
Jazmine calls out my name, interrupting my inappropriate thoughts. I pocket my phone and pick my drinks up from the counter. The drinks freeze my palm, water from the side of the cup dripping as I enter the classroom.
Willow’s red hair attracts my attention even from the other side of the room. Her head is down, not noticing me, however, something gives me away, because her gaze flicks to mine.
Willow narrows her eyes. “What do you want?”
I hold her drink out for her to take. “A peace offering,”
She tilts her head, as if to question my motives. “I didn’t realise you knew what a peace offering was.”
I swallow, searching for my usual arrogant facade. “Well, I suppose you could call it a bribe. I just want to talk.”
“No thanks,” she says. “But I’ll take the drink.”
Willow snatches it from my hand, sipping on the straw. Sighing, I take a seat next to her. She doesn’t complain about my choice.
“Wait,” Willow says, pausing to look at the drink. “Did Jaz tell you my coffee order?”
“Yep.” I lied.
She doesn’t need to know that I memorised her coffee order in our junior year of high school or that I was the person who asked Maeve at Books and Brew to put matcha on the drink’s menu.
Willow doesn’t talk to me again. Class drags on and on, probably because I’m looking at the clock every minute but I need this class to end. I write down notes that the tutor says will be important, however, my attention isn’t with him.
“Harassment within the workplace, especially sports, tends to be extremely common.”
I spy out the corner of my eye, Willow squirming in her chair, making me think about her experiences with hockey. In the beginning, I was one of those assholes who thought she should quit.
Do people still tell her that?
An even better question would be in regard to her old team, did they harass her? After the shower fiasco, it wouldn’t surprise me if that was the case.
The thought has me clenching my fists and my blood boiling. I stretch my fingers and take a deep breath, trying to decrease my racing heart.
“Okay, that’s all for today. Keep working on the assessment and email me if you need assistance.”
Right. Assessments slip my mind from time to time, as my focus is on hockey. I believe this assessment is only an essay, so it should be straightforward. I slide my laptop away and pick up my empty coffee cup.
Willow filing out of the room when I swing a bag strap over my shoulder. I grit my teeth, running toward her. She seems to be best friends with avoidance, but that stops right now.
Once we enter the hallway, I grab her wrist. “Willow, I was serious about talking.”
