Page 30 of Famous Last Words
“I didn’t say her name,” I sass.
He tears his fingers through his hair again, huffing another hard exhale. “No, it doesn’t have anything to do withher.”
We’re interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Who’s that?” I gasp, worried it’s some lunatic fan who might’ve snuck into the hotel.
“That’ll be the food,” Robbie says, stifling a groan as he forces himself up off the bed.
I manage to relax some, watching him pad toward the door, barefoot, gray sweats pulling criminally tight around his firm butt.Ew. Forcing myself to turn away, I watch as the St. Paul Lions get their firm butts handed to them instead.
Suddenly I’m hit with a smell that makes my stomach growl and I realize just how hungry I am. I haven’t eaten since this morning.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Robbie wheel a cart into the room, removing shiny silver tops from plates and revealing a burger and fries, a cobb salad, an entire pizza, and a bowl of hot wings.
“Well, Keller, this food isn’t gonna eat itself.”
“I told you I don’t want anything.” My stomach objects, but I’m far too stubborn.
Robbie cocks his head to the side offering me a disbelieving look. “I heard your stomach rumble in the elevator on the way up here. Sounded like a goddamn Yeti.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring him.
“Fine, whatever,” he murmurs.
Moments later, Robbie’s flopping down onto the sofa next to me, his big frame so close he’s pressed right up against my side. A plate rests precariously on his knee, and he ignores me, staring at the television as he picks up the burger and takes a huge bite, groaning obnoxiously as he savors the taste.
My eyes narrow when he looks at me.
“What?” he asks with his mouth full of food.
“You have ketchup on your chin.”
“Be a doll and lick it off for me.”
I glare at him, but he simply grins, sticking his tongue out to try reach it before giving up and wiping at it with the back of his hand. Then licking it off his hand.
“You’re so gross.”
He chuckles. “You really hate me, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Answer faster next time, seriously,” he says drolly.
I shrug.
His gleaming eyes fall from my face and drag down, openly lingering on my chest for a moment too long. And just as I’m about to tell him to stop staring at my tits, his gaze meets mine again, and that cocky smirk is back.
“What?” I sigh, although I’m not entirely sure I want to know.
He shrugs, popping a fry into his mouth. “You look surprisingly good in my jersey.”
My traitorous cheeks flush of their own accord because, apparently, I’m pathetic.
“You sure did grow up, Keller,” he adds, smirk lingering as he takes another big bite of his burger.
My heart stammers at his words, and I momentarily hate myself.
