Page 12 of The Head Game

Hey. You okay? I know today is tough for you.

No, August sent back. I’m really not.

But it was late and there was no answer.

“Didn’t get enough of me during the game, huh?” a silky voice teased.

August looked up from his screen and groaned at the sight of a familiar person sauntering toward him. “Oh no. Not you.”

Of all the fucking people to run into tonight, it had to be Nico Arents.

Nothing like the universe kicking a man while he was down.

Arents grinned. “Oh yeah, it’s me.”

August had a desperate desire to wipe that smug little smirk right off his stupid face.

With his fist.

“Believe me, I got more than I wanted of you during the game,” August said drily.

Arents sauntered closer. “Aww, are you sure about that? Because it seems like you followed me to the bar here.”

“I didn’t follow you anywhere!” August protested, irritation making him snappish. “Not that it’s any of your business but I went out for a few drinks with a couple of the linesmen from tonight’s game. Heading back to my hotel now.”

“Want some company?” Nico flicked out his tongue, licking his lips.

August stared, unable to believe Arents was that dense. “From you? Uh, no. Absolutely not.”

Arents braced his hand against the wall, grinning. “You sure? Because your mouth says one thing but your eyes say something else.”

“My eyes and my mouth are both saying leave me the hell alone,” August enunciated. “Even if I liked you, we are not supposed to be fraternizing outside of games.”

Arents’ smirk grew. “Who said anything about fraternizing? But I guess if you’re offering …”

August backed up, trying to put some distance between them. “I’m not offering you anything.”

“Aren’t you?” Arents stepped closer. “During the game you made sure I knew you were into men.”

“I wasn’t …” August sputtered. “I was merely pointing out I don’t have anything against LGBTQ+ players. I’m not prejudiced.”

Arents shrugged. “Oh, you can definitely be queer and still be prejudiced.”

“I don’t like that word much,” August said stiffly.

“Well, if the shoe fits …”

Puzzled, August stared for a moment before he shook his head. “No, not prejudiced. I mean queer.”

“So you’re okay being called prejudiced?”

“What? No! Of course not. I … dislike that slur as well.”

Arents shot him a skeptical look. “I kinda like it. It covers everything.”

“I remember having it hurled at me a few too many times while I was growing up to enjoy calling myself that.”

“Ahh.” Arents’ cocky expression seemed to soften a little. “Sorry to hear that.”

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