Page 98 of Wrong Pucking Player

“Worried about him more than your actual boyfriend?” Now she’s the intrigued one as her eyes glitter with amusement.

“Cyrus Jr. and I aren’t dating.”

“Anymore,” she acknowledges. “But you were something.”

“Were. Past tense.”

“Meaning you two won’t get back together?”

“I’m not sure.” I really don’t know. “He’s out of my league.”

“More like you’re out of his league,” she surprisingly notes. “Why do you belittle yourself all the time? It’s not hot, you know.”

“Hot?” I’m not following. “I’m not trying to be attractive with obvious facts.”

“No one should be using your financial status as a determining factor of whether you’re worthy of love or not, Andrews. If that’s the case, they might as well scream to the world that they’re marrying for money and fame. That would get the average person plenty of clicks on social media.”

“Let’s just say I’ve lived a life where everyone has to point out that I’m not the ‘It’ girl. I’m not the prettier one. The smarter one. The golden future one. Not the born child everyone ever wanted and couldn’t wait to meet. It just became a habit to acknowledge what’s thrown into my face all the time. By doing so, you can’t really hurt or humiliate me publicly because I already know the truth.”

“That’s what annoys me,” she grumbles and slides off the stool to walk over to me. When she’s opposite of me, she reaches over to flick my forehead, causing me to flinch.

“Ow.”

“All that shit is far from the truth.”

Lifting my head, I’m looking into her eyes, noticing the hints of green that peek out from her contact lenses of brownish black.

“You’re good-looking, Andrews. You don’t see the way those guys look at you the moment you skate onto the ice. Just because people like to compare you to your bestie doesn’t mean you have to lower yourself and accept the end of the stick,” she lectures. “I hope this season allows you to realize your worth because you’re either going to be looked at like a woman anyone can hop on when their cock is itching for pussy, or you’re going to be the woman a man will fight to make his because you know you’re deserving of better.”

“I feel like I’d need an example of the difference,” I mutter.

“Cyrus Jr. looks at you like a snack he’s told everyone and their family lineage is going to eat for lunch,” she begins. “Armani looks at you like you’re the dessert he’s been craving and is one hundred percent ready to devour with that tap of his black card.”

“Black card.” I pout my lips. “Armani doesn’t have a black card.”

“You get my point,” she dismisses.

“Do Cyrus and I not look compatible?” It hasn’t been twenty-four hours and now two people have had to remind me that I’m deserving of better.

“Compatibility isn’t the problem here, Andrews. It’s about being treated like a queen versus a peasant.” She shrugs. “Anyone can see Cyrus Jr. has a possessive aura around him when he sees anyone approach you. It’s strong enough for even me to notice, and today was only our first day.”

“And Armani?” I have to know. “I mean, you can barely see his face with his helmet and all, but I’m sure he’s not paying attention to me.”

“If that’s what you think, girl, you’re a lost cause,” she mocks with an eye roll. “That man was behind you, ready to throw away his friendship to protect you on that ice against Winchester.”

She’s right…

“Damn. It’s that’s obvious, huh?”

“Either you’re a champion in bed girl, or your attraction meter is on overdrive.”

“I haven’t fucked Armani!” I hiss.

“Then it’s love at first sight.” She claps her hands for added emphasis.

“No way. We’re like cats and dogs! We argue all the time. We can’t even come to a consensus whether to call his stray cat Mittens of Muffin.”

“Muffin is cuter,” she states first. “But enemies-to-lover romances are the new trend.”

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