Page 66 of Playing Hard to Hate
I wanted Tatum. I needed to taste her again, but I wouldn’t let thoughts of her ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’dworked too hard for this. I had to prove to my dad I was good enough. I had to show him that this was, in fact, a career, and I didn’t have to follow in his footsteps to be successful. And if we won the championships, I was a shoo-in for Jaxon’s position.
I had too much riding on the line.
We had won,my first win of the playoffs. Instead of celebrating with my teammates, I was standing outside Tate’s building, holding her favorite flowers, pink peonies. They were not easy to find since they were out of season, but luckily for me, some tiny florist on the way from my house to hers had them.
Surprisingly, Millie answered the door, and clearly, she was expecting someone else based on the cash in her hand and surprise plastered across her face.
“What the fuck? You aren’t the delivery guy!” She pushed her glasses up her nose, clearly aggravated her cravings were going to have to wait another few minutes.
“No, unfortunately not.”
“Tate isn’t home,” she blurted and then slapped her forehead when Tate called out from behind her, asking what was wrong.
“Right. Is that her twin I don’t know about?”
“Tate, we have a visitor,” Millie said over her shoulder and then opened the door wider for me to slip through.
Tate was sitting on the couch, hair in the messiest bun I’d ever seen, wearing what looked like some ratty ass shirt from a lifetime ago, tiny ass shorts, and fuzzy socks.
“I told you I was busy.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me and then at her best friend. “Why did you let him in?”
“So you can get laid by some big-time baseball player, not that wannabe Silver guy.”
“Millie!” Tate yelled.
“What? I didn’t say anything you weren’t already thinking,” Millie said with a smug grin from the doorway.
“You know what, Millie, if you want to play games, meet Griffin. He loves games ain’t that right, Mr. Silver?”
I sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I’ll leave you two. I should have never come.”
“For fuck’s sake, Tate, cut the attitude. Let me think of some reasons why I would actually open the door and let him in.” Millie answered back, closing the front door. “Oh, let’s start with the fact the guy has, I don’t know, your favorite flowers. And he just won his first game of the playoffs. Hmm…what else? Oh, that’s right. He’s here to see you instead of celebrating with some whore. Doyouneed another reason?”
I looked between Millie and Tatum, who appeared to be in an intense stare-down.
I wondered how they knew about the game. I then saw the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and heard the highlights being covered by the ESPN reporter.
She watched.
“You’re a shit best friend,” Tatum exclaimed, standing up. “I’m not dressed for him.” She pointed at me. “I look like shit, and you just let him in without any fucking warning.”
“I’m the best, best friend you’ve ever had actually. I’m making sure this man sticks around. And I think you look great. He thinks you look great. You know this isn’t about me, and you know it, so hash out whatever bullshit is going on between you now. I’m tired of you both living on another planet.”
“You do look beautiful.”
Both girls whirled around to look at me where I was still standing by the front door, holding the stupid flowers.
“Right. So I’m gonna leave. The delivery guy should be here any minute, and you two better have some good celebratory sex or something. Or take a spaceship to delulu land for all I care. Just fix this shit between you two. I’m so over being the babysitter. I’m too old for this shit,” she mumbled under her breath before she ran around, grabbed her things, and shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops before racing out the front door.
“We are not having sex,” Tate said as soon as the door slammed shut.
“Never said we had to, but it would be nice.” Heat crawled up her neck, flushing her cheeks.
“Fuck off, Griffin. You had a slew of cleat chasers begging for you to take them home. Should have taken one of them up on their offer,” she retorted.
“There was a pretty blonde, now that you mention it,” I teased, earning a scoff and an eye roll.
“Why are you here, Griffin?”
