Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
STEELE
“Steele! This way!” a photographer shouts as I walk down the corridor that leads to the locker room.
It’s our first regular season game, and I’m more than ready to tear shit up.
Over the past couple of weeks, my teammates and I have really started to find our groove.
Practices have been going smoothly, plays are looking seamless, and we’ve even been seeing more of each other off the field.
That day at Theo and Finley’s was a turning point for me, with both the team and the fans.
It felt natural to let my guard down when they invited me to join them for their special announcement.
Turns out, they’re all actually really cool, and despite how different we may seem from the outside, we have a lot in common.
I found out that Emmett and his wife Stella have strained relationships with their families, which I can unfortunately relate to on a very real level.
I spoke to Styles once, very briefly, last week.
He told me that his new job is going well, but was otherwise pretty tight-lipped.
I have no idea where he’s living, and I can’t ask my parents because they’ll just get pissed at me for speaking to him when we said we’d stand firm.
But they don’t fucking get it, and I know they never will.
Unless you’re a twin, the bond doesn’t make sense.
“Steele!” a reporter yells, trying to get my attention.
I swear, they treat game day arrivals like an awards ceremony red carpet with all the camera flashes and questions about what we’re wearing.
I usually curate my outfits accordingly, never one to shy away from showing off, but I’ve still got some naysayers out there who think my contract was a waste, so I decided to lay low—to show them that I’m making changes in my life and taking this opportunity seriously.
Sydney thinks a more relatable approach is the way to go until I’ve won the entire city over, and I agree.
After all, she’s been here her entire life, and I’m still the new kid.
Things between us have been even more tense since that day in Theo’s kitchen.
She’s been a little quieter, and I can see that her walls are right back up.
We’ve only talked in ways that are work-related.
Any community outreach opportunities she’s scheduled for me have been in public places, so we haven’t been alone at all.
I should be pissed at myself for goading her—for putting pressure on her to kiss me—but fuck.
I’ve never been as desperate to taste someone’s lips as I am hers, and I can’t bring myself to back off because I know she wants it, too.
She can deny it, but every hitch in her breath when we’re close tells me otherwise.
I keep trying to figure out why her? I could go to Velvet any night of the week and find someone who would give me all the things I’m used to.
But Sydney is so much more than just a mind-blowing fuck.
She’s cool as hell. She’s smart, edgy, funny, independent…
all the things I had no idea I was attracted to because relationships were never high up on my priority list. She may think the world sees her as the wild card of the Grant family, but in my opinion, she’s the most interesting of them all.
I could listen to her talk all goddamn day and never get sick of it.
And nobody is more shocked about that than I am.
Either way, I have to leave the ball in her court when it comes to anything more than just a professional relationship.
I’ll crawl across hot coals at this point just to hover my mouth over hers—to feel her warm breath mingling with mine—but I refuse to take the final inch.
She’s the one with the kissing rule. If it were up to me, we’d be making out in a dark corner every chance we got.
I won’t cross that line, though, no matter how badly I want to.
I wave at the cameras, a small yet cordial smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I pass.
They’re talking—asking me questions about today’s game and how I’m fitting in with the team—but I choose not to engage.
I’ll answer whatever they ask if I get chosen to do media later on.
Right now, I’m just trying to lock in, and I sure as hell don’t need the extra distractions.
Rounding the corner, I enter the area of the stadium where media personnel are not permitted.
It’s a long hallway with several equipment rooms, offices, and a maintenance closet, ending at the giant doors that lead to the Renegades locker room.
I think I’m finally home free, away from anything that may throw me off my game.
But when I hear a familiar feminine laugh, I’m instantly looking in every direction trying to find her.
Sydney’s here.
I listen closely, following her voice and stopping right outside the cracked door of an empty office.
Because I’m a lucky motherfucker, I can see her entirely through the small space, and I stare like a creep as she talks to whoever is in there with her.
Her baggy jeans have a long, strategically placed rip right under one ass cheek, the supple flesh peeking out and begging me to bite into it.
On top, she’s wearing a cropped version of Maddox’s jersey, which makes me irrationally angry because I want it to be my name and number across her body.
Golden blonde hair cascades down her shoulders, swaying a little when she throws her head back in laughter once again.
Fuck. Me. I love that sound.
I get lost in her, watching like she’s my favorite television show, when suddenly, it hits me. I know the other voice in that room with her. I’ve heard it before, specifically when he was fumbling like a goddamn idiot while trying to ask her out.
Dr. Fucking Dipshit.
Every instinct in my body is telling me to burst into the room and claim her.
To show him that she’s mine, even though I know she isn’t.
Visions of me bending her over and fucking her like only I can while he watches play on a loop inside my head as I do my best to hear the exchange.
But I immediately regret it because he clearly still hasn’t given up on his pursuit.
“Thanks for showing me around,” he says.
“I’m sure you have somewhere to be, but I’d kick my own ass if I didn’t ask before you left.
” Blood pounds against my pulse points, my fingers curling into tight fists as he continues.
“The hospital’s charity ball is coming up this Thursday, and I was kinda hoping you’d be my date. ”
Sydney’s entire frame goes rigid, and even though I can’t see her face from where I’m standing, I know what it looks like.
Wide eyes, plump lower lip trapped between her teeth as she chews nervously, and a pink blush along her cheeks because she’s realizing that I was right from the start. He wants her, and now she knows it.
Silence hangs thick in the air between them, my heart beating harder behind my rib cage with every second that passes.
Sydney’s hands are nervously wrung together behind her back, and it takes every bit of my self-restraint not to go in there and gently pry them apart, wrap them in mine, and beg her not to go out with him.
It’s fucked up, I know that, but I just need her to say no.
“Mitch,” she croaks, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. I hold my breath, awaiting the rest of her sentence as he looks at her with hopeful eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not really looking to get into a relationship right now, and—”
“Just as friends,” he rushes out, raising his hands cautiously. “I promise I won’t ask you to marry me, Sydney. I just want my mom to stop meddling. She tries to set me up with someone new every week, it seems. If she sees me doing it for myself, maybe she’ll back off. You know how she is.”
“Oh,” she replies, her shoulders relaxing. Her fingers unwind, arms dropping at her sides. “Yeah, I guess we could go as friends. I don’t see any harm in that, especially if it’ll ease her mind.”
An ear-to-ear grin spreads across his face, and he huffs a relieved laugh, nodding his head in agreement.
“Thank you, Syd. I really appreciate it.” I’m feeling conflicted by the entire exchange because this guy rubbed me the wrong way when I met him at the hospital.
Those feelings haven’t gone away, but she knows him better than I do, so maybe I’m way off base.
Maybe he doesn’t really want her, and just wants his mother to lay off him a little.
He steps in, pulling her into what looks like a friendly hug at first. She throws her arms over his shoulders, just like she did before, and again, he buries his face into her hair.
All the anger I was trying to let fall away with my rationalization bubbles back up to the surface, my teeth grinding together when his hands curve around her waist and flatten dangerously close to her ass.
“We’re going to have a great time, I promise,” he mutters into her golden curls, the intimate gesture making me want to barge in there, throw her over my shoulder, and tell him not to come within a hundred feet of my fucking girl ever again.
Only, she’s not my girl. And she can do whatever she wants.
She pulls away, and he reluctantly loosens his hold, never removing his fingers from her waist until she breaks the connection with a step backward.
My blood feels like acid running through my veins as he takes her in one last time, scanning her features in a way that could pass as friendship, but I know better.
He thinks he can change her mind, so he’s placating her by pretending to be happy in the friend zone.
“Okay,” she says, tossing a thumb over her shoulder. “I have to go, but I’ll see you later this week.”
He smiles, jerking his chin in understanding. “Have a good day, Syd.”