Chapter 11 #2
“Can I get a word in?” I ask, annoyed. “I’m more than just somebody’s sister. And I don’t appreciate you two talking like I’m not here.”
Konstantin chuckles. “Sorry. There’s a lot of alpha male energy flowing around here today.”
As if I hadn’t said anything, Thorne grabs my arm and moves backward. “You should go find your agent, and talk to him about the right and wrong way to introduce yourself to your teammates.”
“Thorne!” I protest. This is really getting off to a bad start.
But Thorne drags me away. “Come on.”
“I don’t want to!”
“Stop being a brat!”
I yank my arm out of his hand. “Thorne, I swear to god. If you don’t calm down and quit being a caveman for a second, I’ll scream.”
“Mollie, I–” Thorne’s lips twist. “I need you to wait for me by the exit while I get my skates off.” He pauses and licks his lips, then pins me with his gaze. “Please, Freckles?”
Freckles? The pet name ricochets through me. “O–okay.”
His shoulders soften. “You follow sports news. Surely you’ve heard that he practically got canned in LA for being an asshole. Wait for me. Don’t… don’t hang around and talk to that guy.”
Is he jealous? The idea tickles me. I head to the back door, mulling everything that just happened over. Thorne’s aggression, Konstantin’s… merely existing.
Alex Thorne, in all of his asshole glory, may have just tipped his hand. He puts up these walls and pretends that he doesn’t want me. But that’s not what I saw when he pushed his way in between Konstantin and me.
But if Thorne harbors a secret lust for me, why turn me down when I asked him to take my virginity? It doesn’t make any sense.
Unless…
Unless Thorne actually likes me. More than what he told me at the Fourth of July party. He said he would keep kissing me if I weren’t Beck’s sister. But he didn’t go so far as to say that he had feelings for me.
What if… what if he has a crush on me, like LIKES me. Was he offended that I said I picked him because he’s slept with a ton of girls? I didn’t tell him the full truth, which is that I also chose him because he makes me swoon.
This might change everything.
Or… I might be misreading the situation. It’s impossible to know.
When Thorne returns, hair shoved out of his face and bag slung over his shoulder, his expression is carefully blank. The guy that gripped my hand and called me Freckles is carefully tucked away.
“Ready?”
“Yup.” I follow him out to the parking lot. He makes a point of opening my door first and holding it for me. What is he up to?
Trying to figure out whether he likes me or is just being extra is tiring. Blowing out a breath, I realize that I have to make the first move.
Again.
Otherwise, he’s just going to drive me home and disappear into his bedroom without explaining anything.
Swallowing, I clear my throat as Thorne pulls out of the space. “Thorne?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t look at me. There are weird vibes in the car right now.
Here goes nothing. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”
It’s a good thing we’re not out of the lot yet, because Thorne stomps on the brake, causing us both to lurch forward. He snaps his head toward me, his eyes pinning me in place.
“What did you say?”
Not a good sign. My cheeks flame. “Uh…”
He grips the wheel and glares at me. “Because it sounded like you were asking me out.”
“Nope.” I shake my head quickly. “You misheard.”
“Good.” He grunts and starts driving again. “Any more tension in the house and it’ll explode.”
“Right. Yup.” I slide a few inches down in my seat. The deep embarrassment I’m feeling will probably do me a favor when it kills me.
Awkward silence fills the space between us all the way home. As soon as I get out of the car and Thorne walks me through the security gate at the end of the pier, he takes off, going at what could be considered a normal pace if you’re 6’3.
Which I’m very much not. I get to the house and there’s no sign of my recalcitrant roommate.
Great. Everything is great.
Five hours later, I’m at the bar of The Secret History with Indie. We are two rounds of espresso martinis into the evening.
“And he just made you ride home in silence?” She slurps her martini and sighs. “That’s fucked up.”
“I know!” I mournfully push the pretzels I’ve dumped out on the counter into a smiley face. “I’ve been hunting for apartments, but you know how expensive it is to rent in this city. Ugh, it makes staying with Thorne seem almost tenable.”
“You know what? Fuck him. Let’s get another round. You can stay with me tonight.”
Side-eyeing my best friend, I arch an eyebrow. “Aren’t you allergic to guests and roommates?”
“I’ll make an exception for you.” She winks. Indie only winks when she’s tipsy. She stands up on her barstool, waving to Olivier. “Another round!”
If Olivier thinks that three espresso martinis are too much, he’s a good enough man to keep it to himself.
“So.” When I’m a couple of sips into my third martini, I turn on my barstool. They do say that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. “Do we think I should go home with someone else?”
Indie snarfs her drink, sputtering. “Are you for real? I’ve been telling you that for ages.”
“You were encouraging me to proposition Thorne the last time we were here.” I roll my eyes.
Indie links arms with me, surveying the room.
It’s pretty busy for a Thursday, and I’m spoiled for choice.
A group of preppy guys are at the bar beside us.
Some generically athletic dudes wearing a ton of Nike are clustered around a table, and keep looking this way.
And the booth in the corner is jammed full of good-looking guys in all black.
Are they in the mob, or just fashionable? There’s no way of knowing.
One of the preppy guys breaks off from his group, tosses his too-long hair, and makes eye contact with me. He seems kind of bland, in his khaki shorts and blue polo, but I bite my lip and smile at him anyway.
He takes that as an invitation to walk over. “Hey. Come here often?”
“All the time.” I take a sip of my drink. “I’m Mollie, this is…” It’s only then that I realize Indie has turned around and is pointedly ignoring me. I gesture to her back. “This is my friend, but I assume that she’s doing her own thing, trying to get me to talk to you.”
“Oh yeah? You noticed me, huh?” He rubs his hands together in a move that I’m guessing is supposed to be… enticing? “I noticed you, too. The red hair really stands out.”
“Oh.” I touch my locks and smile. “Yeah. What’s your name?”
“Caleb.” He perches on the stool beside me and looks over at me. “So, are you in school around here?”
“I graduated two years ago. I work for… a sports entertainment company.” I realize that if I just tell this guy where I work, he could play up his interest in hopes of getting tickets.
I’ve been lying to people about who my big brother is for years. I want to be seen as my own person, not merely someone’s sister. This is merely an extension of that.
“That sounds good.” Caleb puffs up his chest. “I work for a startup here. We’re pre-revenue, but our projected track is out of this world.”
“Oh. Huh.” I take another sip of my drink, trying to decide how old Caleb is. Mid-20s, maybe? “Did you… go to school for that?”
“Course. USC.” He grins. “I moved here a few weeks ago, to a pad in Eastlake. I don’t know if you’ve heard of that neighborhood. It’s very up-and-coming.”
I hold in a snort. “I’m from here, so yes. I’ve heard of it.”
“Oh, so you know.” He sticks his tongue out and rubs his hands. “I have to share it with some of the guys, but they’re pretty chill. The walls are like, super soundproof.”
Then he winks. I frown. How badly, exactly, do I need to talk to this overgrown frat boy?
“Uh, that’s good,” I stumble, trying to keep up the flow of conversation.
“It sure is.” Caleb doesn’t seem to mind my stumble. He’s busy checking me out, and not even being subtle about it. “Say, how about another drink, Mellie?”
“It’s Mollie.” My frown deepens. Yeah, I need to get out of this conversation tout de suite. Caleb is not my speed.
“Sure, babe.” He turns and raises his hand, trying to get Olivier’s attention. “Damn, the service in here sucks.”
“He’s helping those people.” I point.
“Still. What’s a guy got to do to get a girl another drink around here? If I just had a pair of tits.”
The wheeze of humor that leaves me is obnoxiously loud. “What? Olivier’s gay.”
He scowls. “You’d think a bartender would want me to buy you another drink.”
“Okay.” I push up from my seat, grabbing Indie’s arm. “Thanks, but I think I’ve had enough.”
That’s when Caleb snakes his hand around my waist. “Wait, babe…”
“Whoa!” I say, stumbling back. “Don’t touch me.”
Indie is right there to catch me. “Let go of her, perv!”
“Don’t be so uptight.” Caleb glares at both of us, but he does release my waist. “You’re a priss. Just a stuck-up virgin. You two should probably go lez out together.”
His words make a couple things happen in rapid succession. First, Indie growls and jumps at Caleb. Then, before I realize it, I’m covering my ears as a high-pitched whistle starts. It takes me a second to put together that Olivier is blowing the whistle and pointing at Caleb.
And then I see Olivier’s husband étienne pushing bodies aside, determined to get to Caleb. Indie stops trying to kill him and laughs. When the whistle stops, étienne grabs Caleb by the shoulders and starts to drag him out of the bar.
“Get off of me!” Caleb says, his face flushing bright red. “I wasn’t doing anything!”
I look at Indie, my chin wobbling. And before I can say anything, I promptly burst into tears.