Page 11 of Make Me Mean It

“Yo, there you are,” Marcus says, slightly breathless, his gym bag hanging off one shoulder.

Connor jerks at the sound of his voice, and I straighten slowly, biting down on the smile that wants to surface when Marcus’s eyes move between us. His brows pull together, gaze dropping briefly to where Connor’s still sitting on my bed before returning to me.

“What you doing in Theo’s room?”

I step away from the bed, putting some space back between me and Connor, though the way Marcus’s eyes narrow tells me I’m already too late.

“You suck at directions,” I tell him, clapping a hand against the centre of his chest on my way past. “Your brother ended up in my bed instead.”

Marcus’s frown deepens. “No, I don’t.”

“The fuck you don’t,” Connor snaps from behind me.

The look Connor shoots his brother breaks whatever control I had left, laughter slipping out before I can swallow it. I turn away, pressing my knuckles against my mouth in a useless attempt to hide it.

Marcus squints between us. “I said left.”

“You said right.”

“Ah.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Same thing.”

Jesus fucking Christ. I’ve trusted this idiot with my life on the ice.]

Connor’s fingers curl tighter around the notebook pressed to his chest, his stare never leaving Marcus. If his brother has even the slightest sense of self-preservation, now would probably be a good time to start running.

My mouth twitches again.

I grab the towel hanging over the back of my chair before I start laughing again and head for the en suite.

I’m almost at the bathroom when I feel his eyes on me again.

I know they’re Connor’s before I turn, though I couldn’t say how. Maybe because some part of me has been waiting to see if he’d look again.

I glance back over my shoulder.

There’s a small crease between Connor’s brows, and he holds my eyes just long enough that I start to wonder if he’s actually going to keep looking this time.

Then the bottle comes up.

He takes a drink, gaze shifting somewhere past my shoulder, and I have to press my tongue against the inside of my cheek.

Right.

Because that was subtle.

I stay where I am for another moment, towel hooked over my shoulder, waiting to see if he’ll look back.

He doesn’t.

The smile follows me into the bathroom anyway.