Chapter 9 #2
She scrunches her nose, thinking. "Honestly? I didn't pay much attention. He's tall and confident with expensive clothes. His eyes are intense, maybe green or hazel? He has this presence, you know... like he's used to people paying attention to him."
"That's it?"
“Sorry, babe. I was stressed about Dr. O’Connell’s presentation. But if I see him again, I’ll recognize him.”
I try to form a mental image. Tall, confident, intense. Probably toned from all the manual labor he does.
It’s strange. King talks about literature and philosophy. He asks questions about my research that show real understanding. Imagining him in a manual labor job doesn’t quite fit.
“Earth to Ivy.”
I blink. "Sorry. Just thinking."
Her gaze locks onto me and doesn't leave.
"Is there more to this than you're telling me? Remember, we don't keep secrets from each other. Ever."
I look away, rubbing my palms together.
"Have you seduced one of your brother's teammates yet?"
The heat in my cheeks increases tenfold.
"Ah ha. I knew it! You couldn't have been this flustered about a man you haven't met yet. How did you do it?"
"I didn't seduce anyone," I say, crossing my arms. "He seduced me. And it's King I want."
A smile spreads on her face. She moves closer.
"Tell me everything. Don't leave out one detail."
I tell her everything that has happened between Declan and me over the past few weeks. She studies me carefully, unusually quiet.
"You're attracted to him," she says when I finish.
"No, I'm not."
"Your face is doing that thing where it turns red and you can't make eye contact."
I stand abruptly. "I should go. Early day tomorrow."
She grins knowingly. "Run away, then. But eventually you're going to admit you're attracted to Declan."
"Never happening," I say on my way to the door.
"We'll see."
I drive around town, then finally to my apartment when I'm pressed and it’s past eleven. I'm fishing for my keys when a figure steps out of the shadows.
My heart pounds painfully against my ribs. I yelp, dropping everything. At the last second, I catch the flowers before they fall.
"It's just me," Marcus says, holding up his hands and eyeing the flowers. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you. Can we talk?"
I want to tell him that I'm tired and done dealing with an overprotective brother who treats me like I'm still twelve. But I unlock the door.
"Fine. Make it quick," I say, making sure I pick up my bag and everything else that fell.
We step inside. Marcus looks too big for the small space in my apartment's living room. His six-foot frame makes everything look cramped.
"I'm sorry about today," he says immediately. "I overreacted."
"You think?"
"I just..." He exhales. "You're my little sister. I'm supposed to protect you."
"From what? Unwanted coffee invitations? I'm twenty-six and I have a PhD, Marcus. I can handle myself."
"I know that logically, but I also know what those guys are like," he says in a soft voice. "The locker room talk, the bets, the way they treat women like..."
I cross my arms. "I'm not interested in dating your teammates. I'm there to do research. That's it."
"Good. That's good." His face relaxes. Then he glances at the flower and purses his lips, brows furrowing. "So, there's no one you're interested in?"
An image of King's texts flashes through my mind. I stare at the flowers, barely stopping myself from giving them a wide smile.
"No one you need to worry about."
"Okay." He nods. "Okay, that's..."
My bladder reminds me that I was pressed long before I drove home.
"I need to use the bathroom. Give me a minute."
Before he can continue the conversation, I escape. I quickly use the toilet, then lean on the sink and stare at my reflection.
My phone buzzes multiple times. It has to be King.
My heart leaps. I need to make Marcus leave and read King’s texts. I wash my hands fast, flush the toilet, and rush out.
Marcus is standing by my coach, holding my phone.
The world stops.
"Who is King?" His voice is dangerously quiet.
Ice floods my veins. "That's private."
"Private? Where did you meet?"
I look away.
"You're not arguing back. Have you even met him?"
I suddenly realize how stupid it looks that I haven't met King yet.
“I haven’t… We’re—”
He shakes his head, his expression darkening.
“You’ve never met him,” he says, “yet he’s sending you all these texts.” His eyes drop to the screen. “‘Can’t stop thinking about what you said last night.’ ‘You make me want to be better.’”
He scrolls.
“‘I want to hold you in my arms, Ivy.’” His gaze snaps to mine. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“It’s none of your business.”
"The hell it's not. Is this why you said there's no one? Because you're hiding some relationship?"
"I'm not hiding anything. He's just..." I grasp for words that won't make this worse. "He's just someone I met through Sloane. She gave me his number. It's nothing."
“You've not met him, and it's not nothing,” he retorts, voice rises. "Nothing doesn't text you at eleven p.m. with winky faces. Does he know about you, where you work?"
"Marcus..." My voice trails off. I can't even defend myself well enough because my brother is right.
"He does, doesn't he?" He lifts his hands and brings them back down with a frustrated look. "This reads like a guy stalking you and trying to..."
"Stop," I say, cutting him off. "You don't get to control my life by reading my private messages and dictating who I talk to."
"I'm trying to protect you!"
"I don't need your protection!" The words explode out of my mouth, all the frustration and humiliation from today erupting. "I need you to trust that I'm smart enough to make my own decisions. I need you to see me as an adult instead of your baby sister who needs saving."
Hurt flickers across Marcus's features. "Ivy..."
"Just go. Please."
His eyes meet mine, mouth tense. His eyes squint in suspicion.
"Alright," he says in a low voice. "But if he hurts you, I'll destroy him."