Page 7 of Sparks Fly

His eyes widen. “No. Why would I do that? We said we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Whatever.” I shrug, trying to ignore the annoying fluttering in my stomach. Conrad doesn’t budge, his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine. I shift and cross my arms over my chest. “So, a deal’s a deal then. Delete my number and I’ll give you your wallet back.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I guess I’ll use Mummy’s AMEX to buy a new surfboard.”

Conrad winces and shakes his head. “Nice, Ivy. Real nice.”

What does he want from me? “We’re never going to be ‘besties.’ Last night is never going to happen again, so you have no need for my number.”

He pulls out his phone and after a few swipes of his fingers, holds it up as proof. “Gone. Happy?”

“How did you get it anyway?” My mouth goes dry, and I feel like I might pass out. Surely, he didn’t ask Harley. I don’t need anyone asking questions about why Conrad’s trying to get in touch with me.

“Ellie left her phone lying around.”

I arch my brow, trying to hide my relief that no one knows what happened. “Nice to see you’re adding invasion of privacy to your repertoire.”

“I’ve deleted your number. Simmer down. Can I have my wallet so I can go?”

I decide that I’m done having this conversation. I stand up and toss Conrad’s wallet to him. It lands at his feet, and he stares at it for a moment before bending over to pick it up.

“Geez, Ivy,” he grumbles. “I know we’re not friends, you’ve made that perfectly clear, but what’s with the attitude?”

I scowl. “What do you want, Conrad? I was upfront with you about what last night was. Nothing else isevergoing to happen between us.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath. He takes his cap off his head, mussing his curls before replacing it. “Whatever. I don’t need this shit.”

I’m frozen to the spot as he spins and stalks back to his car. I feel a slight twinge of regret. It seems like all I do lately is push people away.

When I push the door closed behind me, I lean up against it, closing my eyes as I try to force my heart to stop racing. Conrad Foster is bad news and having sex with him was a mistake that I need to forget. I meant what I said: it’s never going to happen again.

FOUR

CONRAD

CHRISTMAS IS SUPPOSED to be a happy time. One where families come together to enjoy each other’s company–and the good foody. For us, Christmas means listening to my dad and grandad compare me to the twins while I sit there and keep my mouth shut.

Unfortunately, I have two older brothers who can do no wrong and a younger sister who everyone adores. I’m the one that cops all the criticism. I’ve always felt like the outsider in our family. Maybe his attitude has something to do with appearance. While my siblings are carbon copies of him with dark eyes and ink black hair, I take after Mum.

I tune back into the conversation just as Grandad is praising my brother–again–while Dad nods along in agreement. “... fifteen tries, eight assists, and a Rookie of the Year medal is an outstanding achievement in your first year, Ryker. And with Wes up there with the tackle count, you two boys are doing the Foster family name proud.”

“Thanks, Grandad,” Ryker says, beaming wide despite having a mouthful of food.

Oh yeah, he’s a real poster child.

“We were delighted to hear the Coach’s speech at the award ceremony,” Dad offers. “It’s a testament to all the hard work you’ve both put in to get where you are.”

“You boys are setting a good example,” Grandad continues. He then lowers his voice to a grumble. “One that hopefully your younger brother will start to follow.”

Unwilling to give either of them the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me, I keep my eyes trained on the table.

“Conrad will be lucky to keep his captaincy next year with all this mess.” Dad’s speaking directly to Grandad as if I’m not sitting directly across from them. “I always knew he’d be a bad influence, especially with those parents of his never around. Too much money and not enough supervision.”

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