Page 14 of Levi

After the first round of our game and a quick water break, I told the guys about what happened today when I went to go see Quinn…as well as what happened at the bar the other night. They all laughed their asses off, but none of them were surprised. Well, Asher and Cooper were both surprised that I told her no in the first place, but they are also the two who know the most about Quinn and me.

All of my friends know I was engaged to Ally and that it was a mess, but for a while, that's all I told them—well, except for Asher. Asher is my ride or die; he went through the ringer with me when we were growing up. I keep expecting him to bail out on me, to finally decide I'm too much trouble for my worth, but somehow, he's still here.

He found it the most entertaining about Quinn and me, immediately texting me on the side.

Asher: So you're dating baby sis now? And you couldn’t even tell me she was off-limits?

Levi: Fuck off.

Asher: Did you detect a lie in my statement?

Levi: A lie? No. But I don't think it's necessary to bring up the family matters. She’s been off-limits regardless.

Asher: Aww, I was hoping she’d call me daddy too.

Levi:

He’s fucking lucky I love him, or the next time we get on the ice together, I’d have my fist against his face. We spend the next hour playing another round while bullshitting about the rest of the changes we learned about today, including the meeting we had with Coach right after his pep talk to the full staff and team before we all get offline.

It’s hard because I want to hate the man outright for the way he treats me, but I know he’s doing it because he thinks I fucked with someone he cares about. It’s a weird position to be in, so I just try to keep the peace as much as possible.

That is until he fucks with my place here in Nashville.

All it took was him mentioning it to me once today as I made my way to the locker room to grab something from my bag before I went to find Quinn. He made sure I knew he was the one in charge, and if I couldn’t follow his directions, then he would make sure I was on the first plane out of here.

I bit my tongue before walking away. At that point, I was already starting to change my mind, but it was solidified after overhearing Ally.

See, I’m a nice guy, even if Coach already mentioned that I can’t get in fights anymore. It’s not my fault I have a low threshold for bullshit and even less patience for people who are just mean.

Grabbing my phone, I check it again, and after seeing that I still don’t have a text back from Quinn, I say fuck it and dial her number.

I’ve never been the type of person to send just one text message or make a single call and then sit patiently waiting for a response. Nope, I’ll send a text based on a thought I had, and then an hour later, another thought pops into my head, and I’ll message again—whether you’ve replied or not.

Some call it overbearing, possessive, maybe even a little stage-five clingerish.

I call it me.

Plus, you can ask my nana—I'm known for saying fuck the rules and doing things my way. Life’s too short not to be happy. But this phone call pisses me off because she immediately sends me to voicemail. So I call her again.

Quinn: Stop calling me.

Me: I would if you would just answer.

Quinn: Take a hint.

Me: The only hints I take are from your body language, your moans, and the way your breathing changes as I build up your climax. All other things are irrelevant.

Quinn: What do you want?

Me: Meet me for a drink.

Quinn: No. You don't want to do this, and that's fine.

Me: Damn it, Quinn. This is ridiculous. You asked me to show up, and I was there without question. I ask and you're screening my calls like we're back in high school.”

Dots. No dots. Dots. Not dots.

Quinn: Terrance Hotel. The bar, 8 p.m.

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