Chapter 30
Mari
@user29127646whydidyoublockme: BB plz. Why did u block :( Answer me! @user29127646whydidyoublockme: It’s Isaac btw. @user29127646whydidyoublockme: I bet Kacper is poisoning your brain. He’s taking you from me ... you blocked me and now you ignore me.
There’s a special place in hell for people you’ve blocked that make another account to contact you. Isaac can’t be surprised that I’ve blocked him when he constantly proves that he’s an insufferable human being. I have no reason to stay in touch with him anymore, none at all.
I screenshot his spam and scroll to my next message request.
@oliveward_official_account: Stay away from my man you slut. Let’s hope we don’t bump into each other before the fight because I will fuck you up.
“Seriously?” I exclaim.
I reread the message and double-check the account to make sure it’s Olive. Blue tick, pinned engagement photo, pinned wedding photo, account followed by a verified Fletcher Ward.
It’s definitely her.
I screenshot Olive’s message and forward it to Davina to ask what we do when an opponent’s wife decides to verbally threaten someone on the team. I have no doubt that Davina will be on Olive’s case, and that in itself is enough to calm my bubbling nerves.
I sigh in relief when Quinn’s contact crops up on the screen. I can’t wait to tell her about this.
“Oh my god, your braids look even worse than the picture you sent,” she says when I accept the call.
I knew she would call me the second I showed her a picture of my braids. Thank god I packed a bunch of hair products in anticipation of removing them at some point during the trip: clarifying shampoo; combs; old, blunt scissors that I should’ve replaced years ago—mostly everything I’d need.
“I’ve been getting away with slicking the roots and redoing a couple, they would’ve lasted longer if I had been firmer on myself for securing my bonnet at night,” I say.
“Yeah, and it’ll look fine to people unfamiliar with braids, but not me! You were literally holding your hair hostage.” Exasperation bleeds into Quinn’s voice.
“They aren’t that bad.”
“The gel buildup is criminal. Crim-i-nal, MarMar.”
“You’re overreacting.”
I use the end of my scissors to prod at the edge of my scalp before taking a handful of braids and cutting them a couple of inches from the bottom.
“Why are you cutting them so far down? Have you been doing them all like this? No wonder it’s taking ages. Your hair ends, like, halfway,” Quinn berates. “And you’ve missed the front two! What method is this?”
“I’ll hang up right now,” I threaten. “Which you’ll hate because I have life updates.”
“You stress me out,” she groans. “And what updates? Is this about the Isaac block?”
I wish those words would provide some relief. I didn’t even consider the possibility of him taking advantage of the easy ability to sign up for new social media accounts.
“Honestly? Not that different. He DM’d me on a burner account today, begging me to unblock him. I saw it when I checked my message request, along with a message from Olive Ward.”
“What? Kas’s opponent’s wife?”
“Yeah, you know Ward messaged me a couple of days ago when I was with Vi? Well, his wife said she’s going to beat my ass if she sees me. I have so many admirers,” I drawl sarcastically.
Quinn scoffs before taking a sip of her boba. “Motherfuckers, both of them. Why is everyone insane?”
“I don’t know, I’m already sick of Isaac’s insanity,” I say.
“He’s the worst because he’s insane and insecure. You were so far out of his league that he can’t handle you moving on with your life, let alone with someone else.”
Quinn might be right. Isaac never had a reason to show his jealousy because, well, I wasn’t doing anything but work at Mel’s studio. I only caught a glimpse of his envy when I went on a few dates with that Femi guy Quinn set me up with—Isaac subsided when I told him it didn’t work out.
“Really?” I ask.
“Blocking him probably freaked him out. You cut contact, he panics because from his side, you’re over him and working with a man levels above him.” Quinn props her phone up against something so she can free her hands to reangle the straw in her boba. “In his mind, this is a competition and you’ve won. It’s the hellish, toxic male cycle of life,” she says between the chewing of tapioca balls.
I sigh. “Well, apartment hunting has been hell. Either I’m too fussy, or none of the apartments I’m seeing online are worth the money.”
Quinn gasps and she leans into the camera? “Are you seriously planning on moving out?” She seems surprised. Moving out is something she’s been trying to persuade me to do for a long time. “To Kas and Devon’s?” she says with excitement.
I shake my head and her smile drops.
“I’m going to try and find a place I can rent. I thought it’d be easier than this, though. Maybe I’d be better off staying at Kas’s.”
She glances upward in consideration. “It will be tricky to move you out, you’ve got a lot of stuff. Shall I ask Mom and Dad?”
“Moving me would stress Auntie out. I don’t want her lupus to flare, she told me she felt feverish with me out of state.”
All Quinn can do is press her lips together because she knows we avoid absolutely everything to keep Auntie stress free.
“Mari?” Kas calls.
My stomach knots, and I glance worriedly toward the entrance of the bathroom. We haven’t really spoken since that night and things have been a little weird.
Our routine at the beginning of the first week of Vegas was friendly, perfect. Aside from some unintentional flirting, we were good together. We’d laugh between takes and go back and forth on whether we thought something was worth uploading to his socials. It was a healthy, professional friendship for the most part.
Now? I still go to the gym after breakfast with Davina to get some content of Kas, but I’ll scurry off to the conference room before he can initiate conversation. It’s avoidance barely concealed by professionalism.
“Is that Kas?” Quinn whispers.
“Yeah?” I shout in response to him and look at Quinn with wide eyes.
I’ve already explained to her that things have been strange since the club. It’s why she’s grinning from ear to ear, no doubt excited to be privy to whatever awkward conversation ensues.
“I got you something,” he says.
“Ooh,” Quinn says. “We love a provider.”
“Shut up,” I hiss, turning to face the direction of Kas’s voice. “I’m in the bathroom!” I shout.
“Oh, I’ll come back later.”
“No, come in!” Quinn shouts.
I don’t have my earphones in, so with my phone’s volume on max, and Quinn and I sounding ridiculously similar, Kas’s footsteps approach the bathroom.
“Yeah, come in. I’m not naked or ... pooping, or whatever,” I stutter out.
I cringe at myself and Quinn matches my expression. “A perfectly normal response,” she mumbles sarcastically.
Kas steps inside my bathroom. He cools himself by pulling his sweat-drenched T-shirt away from his body and fanning it.
“Hey,” he breathes.
“Hey! What’s up K-dog—” Quinn starts.
I hang up on her before she can finish her greeting. “Sorry, I was chatting to my cousin.”
“I figured.” He bites his bottom lip to hide a smile and points at the phone in my hand, a familiar white plastic bag dangles from his wrist as he does so. “You didn’t have to hang up on her, I’m just dropping these off ... P?czki.”
“Is this a peace offering or something?” I ask.
“A peace offering for kissing you? Sounds pathetic when you put it like that.” Kas exhales an impatient breath from his downturned mouth and focuses on my hand grasping a handful of braids I’m about to cut. “What are you doing?”
“Taking out my braids,” I explain, my eyes latching onto the familiar plastic bag in his hands. “Now give me my p?czki .”
Kas smiles for a moment as he pulls out a Polish donut and places it into my mouth before gravitating behind me.
“I can help while you eat,” he says. Kas’s cheeks grow ruddy, and he averts his blue eyes when I meet them for a little longer than what’s comfortable. Is Kas shy? “Unless you’re still being weird about the kiss.”
Never mind, not shy.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not being weird about this kiss, I was never being weird about the kiss. You were being weird about the kiss, you hypocrite,” I say, finishing the cut.
“I was frustrated because I was affected by it and you didn’t seem to care,” Kas explains, staring at the braids now flopping in my hand.
The redness on his cheeks remains as he speaks, and it has mine heating in response.
“I needed to set a boundary. I also didn’t think you’d care,” I admit.
“Me neither.” He pauses and bends down so that his eyes are level with my shoulder. “But I do think you care just as much as me,” he whispers. “I saw you sneaking looks and running away during my training breaks.”
His breath skitters over the exposed skin of my shoulder. Every inch of me feels like I’ve been thrown into a frying pan and seared until perfection, all ready to be placed on Kas’s tongue again.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I croak. I’m flustered within an inch of my life and Kas’s eyes stare into mine for a little too long. I shake my head. “Right, braids.” I gesture to the parts I’ve already cut and are yet to be unbraided. “You just have to undo it with your fingers or the end of that,” I say, referring to the comb on the counter. “There’s some conditioner and water in that spray bottle too, it should help.”
Kas’s fingers are unsteady at first, but he handles my hair with the utmost care and focus. His brows are scrunched in concentration, and I have to distract myself from ogling by checking some of his tagged posts.
The vlog filmed when I was at the spa dropped a few hours ago and since then, some of Kas’s fans have created edits using a combination of official vlog footage and other videos from Dash’s very public and rapidly growing profile. I like a bunch and share them on Kas’s story.
I continue to scroll and freeze when I come across a fan edit of me and Kas. All of the videos used for it are from Dash’s profile: the team building thing, me and Kas at breakfast, us laughing together over something I show him on the phone, and even me very obviously responding to one of his sarcastic jokes with an eye roll. As innocent as the footage may be, the comments are full of speculation.
I love them
MY FAVES
The way he looks at her
HOW IS THIS MORE ENTERTAINING THAN THE FIGHT
This team looks so fun fr
“They’re shipping us,” I say, playing the video again and showing Kas over my shoulder.
“Whatever that means,” he mumbles. Kas’s lips quirk as the edit plays. “It looks like a movie trailer.”
The last comment on the video is the one that sticks with me, along with the conversation I had with Quinn.
Going back home is going to suck. It’s going to suck like nothing has ever sucked before because here, I’m having fun. The joy of the fight sinks to the depths of my stomach and curdles at the thought of this trip ending.
Kas’s upper teeth saw against his bottom lip. He continues unbraiding my hair with an artless smile and checks on me in the mirror in front of us.
“What’s wrong?” Kas asks.
“Nothing really.”
“Something’s up and it’s making you upset.” He pokes my shoulder blade with his finger. “Tense.”
I heave a breath. “I’m just having so much fun.” My voice wobbles even though there’s no threat of tears.
Kas blinks and tilts his head to the side. “You’re sad because you’re having fun?”
“I was talking to Quinn about how I’ve blocked Isaac now and ... I don’t know.” Kas’s relieved exhale skims my scalp. I gulp uncomfortably, knowing how pathetic my words are going to sound. “Even if I don’t have to see him, the thought of going back and being alone is making me a little sad.”
Kas continues to silently unbraid my hair. “You know what my solution is.”
“I know,” I whisper and meet his eyes in the mirror in front of us.
I don’t want to live with Kas because I like our friendship, if we can even call it that. It’s a friendship that lies beyond the platonic realm of what friends and coworkers are meant to be.
My brain is telling me that I need to be careful jumping into another living situation with a man, and every other part of me is screaming the opposite.
I don’t know how to act.
Kas’s finger skims my neck as he undoes my braids, and he mutters a low apology every time he thinks he’s tugging too hard. It should feel platonic, but it doesn’t. I’m sexually tense, goose bumps dot my flesh, and I kind of want his fingers to do more than swipe the back of my neck. I want them to slither up my throat. I want him to cup my chin and tilt my face toward him so he can kiss me like he did—
“I’ve done this section, are you gonna cut the rest?” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
He’s staring at me in the bathroom mirror with a quirked brow. I nod mindlessly and grab another handful of my braids to cut. His calloused palms skim down either side of my neck and nudge under the straps of my sundress.
“Do you think kissing each other was a mistake?” I ask.
His hands freeze and squeeze my shoulders before pulling away. “A mistake implies that it was unintentional. I fully intended on kissing you, Mari.”
His hands return to my shoulders, and I shiver under him. My entire body thrums at Kas’s admittance and I’m tempted to respond with some honesty of my own, even if doing so would send me down a hole I’m already precariously teetering on the edge of.
“Kas,” I warn. He pulls away, puffs out a breath, and starts pacing as I finish cutting the mass of braids. “We need to stop being silly, I need to be able to do my job.” I swallow-mid sentence, my words oozing with uncertainty.
“Silly, job, right.” He looks yearningly at my lips in the mirror’s reflection like it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. “I’m gonna go, I need to go,” he says, scanning the length of me and dragging his hands through his already messy hair. With a final look, he stalks out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I rub the nape of my neck, the same place he touched moments ago.
Kas is starting to affect me in ways I didn’t anticipate, and I need to figure out a way to put an end to it before I risk ruining my job and my sanity.
If only I knew exactly how to do that.