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Ice Me Out

Page 114

by A.N. Boyden

Marlon snorted. “We all met her.”

The table settled into an eerie silence. Chandler narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Morgan folded his arms over his chest, deep in thought. Boris scratched his head. Rossi started ticking off his fingers, and the others sat there looking like they belonged on concussion protocol.

Before I could reveal, a woman and her friends sauntered over to our table. One of them, wearing my jersey, locked onto me. “Hey, Hartbreak.”

My entire body locked up from hearing that nickname. It hit like a sledgehammer, dredging up the version of myself that I had retired.

“Don’t call me that,” I said through clenched teeth.

She giggled with her friends like I’d just told the funniest joke of the century. “Wow. I heard you were pretty intense,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and leaning in far enough for me to smell the vodka mixed with her perfume. “I figured you could use some company after tonight’s loss.”

Marlon let out a low whistle, and Chandler sat forward like he’d just bought tickets on the glass.

“I’m not interested,” I said firmly.

She laughed, thinking I was flirting. “You don’t even know what I’m offering yet.”

“I know enough,” I said, voice rough and clipped.

She shifted and glanced around the table, mildly embarrassed. “There’s no need to be rude.”

“I’m not being rude. I have boundaries, and you’re actively ignoring them. Enjoy the rest of the night with your friends somewhere else.”

As if she hadn’t heard a word I said, she reached down and dragged her fingers across my shoulder. I knocked her hand away instantly. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Her mouth fell open, and her friends froze behind her like they wanted to disappear.

“Did you seriously just hit me?” she exclaimed, drawing attention toward our table.

I stood up from my chair, forcing her to look up at me. “No means no. And you don’t get to ignore that because I’m a man. Because if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d be called a predator and on someone’s registry. My past doesn’t automatically give you access to me. I don’t want your number, your company, or your hands on me. Move around.”

Color climbed her neck to her cheeks. “Whatever. You’re just community dick anyway.”

I heard gasps over my blood rushing in my ears. I was angry, but also a little hurt because my fuckboy history was my biggest insecurity when it came to Vera. But instead of lashing out, I sat back down and finished my beer.

“Then walking away should be easy for you.”

She spun on her heels and stormed off in a flurry of extensions and audacity.

Three seconds of silence passed.

“Ohhhh, the mystery woman has you on a tight leash,” Morgan laughed.

“No shit. I bet he’s wearing a fucking chastity belt,” Chandler added.

“She probably has his dick in her purse,” Rossi commented.

My teammates laughed until Marlon motioned for them to shut up. “Settle down.”

He turned to me. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, referring to the handsy fan.

I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Good. Now, tell them who was in the driver’s seat of the Bronco.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as my teammates leaned in with bated breath.

“The biochem major,” I rushed out.