Page 18 of What If I Hate You
Harrison shrugs a shoulder. “Your question implies that he has an old meditation and to be honest with you, Dayne, I’m not sure Cunningham has ever meditated a day in his life.”
“Lat-er-al move-ment…” Ledger stretches his words out as if he’s trying to hypnotize me. “Maybe he’s practicing the art of the think method. Like, the more he thinks about lat-er-al move-ment, the better he’ll be at it.”
“Or maybe he just has gas but doesn’t want to trust a fart.”
I snort, wipe sweat from my brow, and put the ball back onto the rack. “Just getting my money’s worth, assholes.”
Harrison smooths his hand over his beard. “Heard you had it out with Rivers again this morning.”
“What of it?”
What did he hear?
Ledger cocks his head. “Is that why you’re in here tossing a ball at the wall and then hugging it like you’re fucking sorry for hurting the poor thing?”
“Because they do make punching bags for that sort of thing, you know.” Harrison gestures toward the far corner, a sly smile creeping up his face. “I hear it’s cheaper than therapy too.”
“Don’t need therapy,” I say, planting my hands on my knees. “Just need to not see her face everywhere I look.”
Harrison grins, teeth flashing white in his field of facial hair. “You know, the more you talk, the more you sound exactly like every romcom villain in history. You know those ones that are like enemies to lovers? Maybe you just need to admit Rivers is your kryptonite and let the chips fall, Superman.”
“Wait.” Ledger cocks his head. “How do you know all about romcom shit?”
“My ex, Harper,” he explains. “She used to love romcoms back in college. She’d make me watch them with her and I was a fucking sucker for her, so…” He shrugs.
“Yeah,” Ledger says,” and don’t forget, in those movies the guy always ends up confessing his love with a boombox on the lawn.”
Harrison deadpans, “I own a boombox.”
I flip him off and walk to the water fountain. My skin is so hot it feels like an open wound. “I don’t like Rivers. I don’t even like talking to Rivers. She’s a pain in the ass.”
“Is that what you call it?” Ledger’s smile sharpens. “Looked more like you wanted to fuck her senseless in front of the entire press corps the other night.”
I scowl, but I can’t even fake the heat. Truth is, my body’s been tangled up in knots since the parking lot the other night, since the way she stared me down and didn’t even blink. I wantto say it’s just the thrill of competition, but I’m not that good a liar. It’s something else. Something gnawing at the edges.
“She’s just doing her job,” Harrison says, voice almost gentle. “She’s good at it, too. It can’t be easy being the only female in the room.”
“Right?” Ledger snorts. “I mean have you seen those guys? That Troy always has shit on his clothes like he misses his mouth with every bite and don’t get me started on Greg. Marlee says he’s a piece of work. I know Blakely has struggled with them almost daily. They’re sexist douchebags that don’t deserve to be around her in my opinion. She’s headstrong and stubborn but you have to admit, her questions come from a place of knowledge. She knows the game.”
I don’t want to admit Ledger’s right.
But he is.
Harrison lifts a shoulder. “Maybe you should try talking to her like she’s not the enemy, see what happens.”
Ledger picks up a kettlebell, twirling it in his palm like a basketball. “Or you could keep pretending you’re a nine-year-old little girl , and some boy is pulling your pigtails because he likes you and everyone on the playground knows it but you.”
Harrison grins, the kind that means he’s not letting this go. “Some people call it sexual tension, Teddy Bear. You might want to Google it.”
I glare, but they’re already moving to the bench press, Ledger’s voice trailing behind. “I give him two weeks before he snaps. One, if Rivers gets assigned a road trip.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. She hates me. End of story.”
“That’s the spirit!” Ledger says, then teasingly asks , “So, uh, do you hate her back, or do you just want to see what she’d look like in your jersey and nothing else?”
The question hangs in the air longer than it should. I open my mouth to fire back, but there’s something sticky abouthonesty, and it gums up my throat. I squeeze the water fountain pedal and let the ice-cold trickle numb my tongue.
Harrison claps me on the back so hard my teeth click. “You don’t have to answer that, Teddy Bear. Let’s just make sure you’re relaxed before tonight’s game.”
