Page 63 of Craving the Player

Chapter Twenty-Eight

BRADEN

Iwasn’tsurprised to find Sierra gone when Iwoke up this morning. Shit, Iwas surprised that she stayed the night at all after the way we ended our conversation. Iwas spiteful and she didn’tdeserve my harsh comments. So when Isaid Iwas going to sleep on the couch, she didn’tfight me on it. Iwas too grateful that she was even bothering to stay to try to push my luck of sleeping in the same bed as me. But just because Iwasn’tsurprised that she had snuck out in the middle of the night—no note or anything—doesn’tmean that I’mnot disappointed. Running away from our problems isn'tgoing to work for me. Not anymore.

Islide my phone back into the pocket of my jeans and wait anxiously for the elevator doors to open. It'suncomfortable being stuck in such atight space with abunch of pricks wearing expensive suits, everyone pretending to listen to the lame elevator music to avoid awkward conversation. But that doesn’tmatter. I’mhere for Sierra, not to make small talk with abunch of businessmen.

Asigh of relief pushes past my lips when the metal doors slide open with abrief ding. The space is somewhat familiar, but not enough that Iknow where Ineed to be going. Iwas too busy searching for Sierra yesterday to really take much else in.

Ido remember how the white tile flooring sparkled from the sun’sreflection through the tall windows, the potent smell of coffee that reminded me of being stuck inside of aStarbucks, and how out of place Ifelt wearing sweaty gym clothes in such aprofessional building. But come to think of it, it probably wasn’tmy choice of attire that had me feeling so out of place.

It was quieter yesterday, not alot of chatter or shoes clapping on the tile like there is now. But Itune it out, knowing that if Ilet myself start thinking about anything other than seeing Sierra, my first stop would be Cole Travis’ office.

The woman working the desk gets more familiar the closer Iget before Irealize that she was here yesterday. Her hair is almost so platinum blonde that it looks white, greyish even, and her otherwise pretty blue eyes are incredibly dull as they stay strained on the thin computer screen.

Clearing my throat, she looks over at me, blinking slowly while assessing me like ajudge at abeauty pageant. "How can Ihelp you?" she asks once my patience begins to thin, her voice monotone as hell.

"I'mlooking for Sierra."

The woman blinks slowly again and raises her hand to point to the hallway to the left of her. "Third door on the left."

"Thanks." Desperate to get out of this chick'sdepressing aura, Ihead down the hallway at aquick pace before stopping in front of Sierra'sclosed office door, my fingers twitching restlessly at my side. Iswallow the ball in my throat before rapping three times.

It takes afew seconds before Ihear her soft voice. "Come in!"

Turning the doorknob, Ipush open the door and grin. Even hunched over and frustrated, she looks gorgeous. Her tired eyes fall on me when she lifts her head and quickly brushes afew stray curls out of her face. With her lips slightly parted in surprise, she blows out aharsh breath. "What are you doing here?"

Okay, not the welcome Iwas hoping for. "Hello to you too, fighter."

"I'mserious. Why are you here? Idon'thave time for your games today," she snaps at me, and Iknow that Ideserve it. The purple bags under her eyes make me wince. Did she sleep as badly as Idid last night?

"Look, I'msorry for being atotal ass last night. You just took me by surprise." Iforce my words to come out as strong as possible even though the thought of her leaving reignites the burning sensation in my chest. "What am Isupposed to do without my favourite fuckbuddy?" Iwince again.

Her eyebrows scrunch before she stares at the pile of papers on her desk. "Ihaven'teven made my decision yet."

"Iknow. Which is why Iowe you an apology." Iclear my throat. "Ialso came by to ask you something. It’sthe worst possible time to ask you this, but just know that there'sno pressure or anything." It'snow, or never Iguess. Ican always find somebody else to go with me if she says no. Or better yet, maybe Ijust won’tgo at all. That idea seems like the most plausible one.

"Okay." She says it without sparing me aglance.

"My dad'sgetting married this weekend, and he won'tstop bugging me about asking you to come. Something about him not wanting his son to show up alone and all that. Idon'tknow. It doesn’thave to be adate or anything. You could come as afriend or somethin—" Iramble before Sierra cuts me off with an adorable giggle that sends snaring heat straight to my cock. Ifeel that giggle from my toes to my Goddamn ears.

"What day is the wedding?"

"Saturday. You wouldn'tneed to be there until after the ceremony. Dad and his fiancée are keeping the ceremony really small. Just them, her parents, Tyler and me. Icould pick you up as soon as it’sover if you want." Iscratch the back of my head nervously and fight off the urge to kick myself in the ass. Ifeel like I’mback in middle school asking agirl to sneak away at recess and share ayogurt with me.

"You can pick me up after the ceremony is done. Just let me know what time Ishould be ready by.” She’sfinally looking at me again, her beautiful face beaming with mischief. "But you have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"You have to dance with me."

Ithrow my head back and laugh. "It'sfunny that you think I'll be doing anything but."

Sierra

"So it'sadate," Sophie states as casually as ever while continuing her aggressive search through the endless racks of clothes in the third boutique we've stumbled into. We have yet to find astore that has the “perfect” dress, and my feet are beginning to throb.

"It'snot adate. Braden just needed someone to go with him." At this point, Idon'tknow who I'mtrying to convince more—her or myself. Braden never said it was adate, he actually was pretty adamant on it not having to be one. But Iwant it to be. Idon’tparticularly like being introduced to acasual fling’sfamily and friends. Why bring other people into arelationship that isn’tgoing anywhere? Idon’tsee the point.

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