Chapter 18 #2
She turns, and I quickly step away, not wanting her to see me as I hang outside the door like a goddamn stalker.
I’m angry—at what, specifically, I’m not exactly sure—and I just want to get away so I can cool off.
But just as I reach the doorway to the locker room, the sound of my own name stops me on a dime.
“Steele!” she shouts. I don’t turn, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath to ground myself as her small feet pad against the concrete floors. I wait until I can practically feel her closeness before spinning on my heel and facing her.
Fuck. She’s too pretty to be real.
“Hey,” she says with a smile, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
“I thought we could get some photos of your pre-game ritual before everything gets crazy. I mean, if you even have a pre-game ritual. Finley told me that Theo makes Maddox play catch with him before he puts his uniform on, but instead of a football or something normal, they use a ball of tape he’s been adding to for like, two years. I bet it smells li—”
“Are you actually going out with that douchebag?” Any hopes I have of being cool—of not sounding like a jealous asshole—go down the drain as I blurt the question with reckless abandon.
Her eyes widen in response, and she looks back toward the room she just came from to see if we’re in the hallway alone.
Mitch is already gone, though, leaving the two of us all by ourselves as she tries to figure out what’s going on.
“Why?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything. “I told you that guy sees you as more than a friend. He doesn’t respect your fucking boundaries, Sydney. Don’t you see that? Mark my words, he’s going to put a move on you at that event, and I swear to God, I’ll break every one of his fingers for it.”
Her brows pull taut, a mask of anger falling over her expression. “No, you won’t. I can handle myself, Steele. I don’t need you to swoop in like some tattooed knight in shining armor when Mitch is completely harmless.”
I scoff, stepping in so close that she has to crane her neck to look up at me. I’m sure this place is riddled with cameras, and any of my teammates or coaches could come down the hall at any moment, but I don’t give a fuck. Not when it comes to her.
“You think he’s harmless because you don’t realize how fucking amazing you are.
But I do. I can’t even blame the asshole for continuing to try when you’ve already made yourself clear, but guys like him are snakes in the grass.
” My gaze softens, and I swallow thickly.
“I’d never forgive myself if he did anything to you without your consent, Syd. I’m just trying to protect you.”
Her features soften, and she exhales a shaky breath.
I want to touch her—to make her understand that, even though I’m being abrasive, I only care about her well-being.
I’ve been in Mitch’s presence twice now, and both times, I saw red flags with the way he’s touched her.
As much as I should let it go, I simply can’t.
“I promise, I’ll be fine,” she replies. “And even if I’m not, you’ll be there, too.
I arranged for one of my friends to be your date.
She’s your age, and she’s very well-known in the area for her philanthropy.
All you have to do is not be an asshole, show her a good time, and pose for a few photos. We’ll let the media do the rest.”
I shake my head, more so out of frustration than anything.
I don’t want to go out with someone else, even if it’s been arranged, as she says.
I especially don’t want to pretend like I’m having a blast when I’ll have my eyes glued to Dr. Fuckwad, making sure he’s keeping his hands to himself unless Sydney tells him otherwise.
And if she does somehow change her mind, giving him the green light, how am I supposed to act normal when all I want to do is beat the fuck out of him for it?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just passing through this goddamn city—biding my time until something better came along—and now look at me.
Ready to fly off the handle because the team owner’s daughter is going on a date with someone who isn’t me.
Which, by the way, she’s well within her rights to do.
“I’m not fucking going,” I say, stepping back and shoving my tongue into my cheek so I don’t dig myself into a deeper hole by telling her why.
It’s best if I just skip this event, staying at a far distance from her when she’s with him.
I have to remember I’m still trying to prove to the people of Cleveland that I’ve changed, and that Mr. Grant made the right choice by signing me.
I can’t do that if I’m on edge all night because I can’t keep my jealousy and protective instincts at bay.
“Are you kidding me? You have to go, Steele,” she argues. “You’ve been invited, and it’ll look bad if you decline. The whole team will be there, so it won’t go unnoticed if you’re the only one who doesn’t show his face.”
Fuck.
I know she’s right. We’ve worked too hard—she’s worked too hard—to let it all be blown to smithereens over a temper tantrum.
If I don’t do as she says, not only will I be going against her father’s orders, but I’ll make her look like she can’t handle the job she was given, when we all know damn well that she can.
So, as much as I hate the thought of seeing her with another guy, even in a completely platonic way, I have to attend this event.
“Whatever,” I mutter, my eyes boring into the wall behind her in an attempt to keep my emotions hidden.
The last thing I need is to be mentally fucked before such an important game, although with the charity ball looming, I’m pretty sure that ship has already sailed.
I need to lock in, give the Renegades my best, and worry about everything else later.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, but I can tell she’s still angry at my reaction to everything with the way her fists are balled at her sides.
I hate myself for losing control, but I guess that’s par for the course with Sydney Grant.
She makes me feel too much. She makes me care too much.
That’s something I’m not used to—not with work, women, or anything else.
I need to figure it out, though, because it’s only a matter of time before the cable we’re dangling from snaps and renders us helpless against the fall.