Page 59 of Jaded

“Hey, you said it, not me.” But the corner of his mouth flicks upwards in amusement. Is he ignoring my blatant eye-fucking or does he legit not see it?

And maybe that’s what makes me keep going. Or I legitimately do not have an off button and my stupid mouth is bigger than my stupid brain. “As long as you don’t try to kiss me—oh, wait. No, I’d like that.”

He rolls his eyes, but he clearly knows I’m teasing; the smile still curls up the corner of his mouth. “I promise to keep my hands and spit to myself.”

“So relieving.” I open my mouth for another joke, but he beats me to the punchline.

“Look.” He drags a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. “I meant to thank you for last night—”

“Nah, it was nothing.” I tug my towel self-consciously, and his eyes follow my hands to the knot around my waist.

Straight Boy totally looks at my abs, or maybe it's the light trail of dark hair leading under the towel—and then jerks his gaze to somewhere around my right ear. “Well, it helped us out a lot.”

“Seriously, it was nothing.” I smother a grin, check over his shoulder to make sure Avery’s still engaged in the Ice Out chatter. “But I didn’t peg you for thedaddy I’d like to efftype.”

“Oh, my God.” Is he blushing? I can’t tell; his skin’s a shade too dark and the lighting’s not great.

“I’m justkidding,” I say, totally not entirely kidding at all. “But seriously, it’s kind of adorable.”

He tilts his head back. “Nothing about me is adorable.”

Well, no, when I’m staring at the long, tattooed column of his throat,adorableis not the word that comes to mind.

“Adorable,” I proclaim anyway, just to be an ass. Then I hold out a hand to the showers. “Go forth and conquer.”

His brows shoot up, and the hint of a smile returns to his face. “That is the absolute strangest ‘go take a shower’ substitute I’ve ever heard.”

“Keeps things interesting.” I shoot him a neat little wink because I’m an idiot. “Actually,conqueringkinda sounds like a euphemism, so maybe don’t do that here, or do, I don’t know—I’m gonna stop talking now.”

And I leave him at the door and return to my bag to get dressed.

I must be slow changing though, ’cause I’m still pulling my pants on when he plops onto the bench next to me. And of course, my big stupid mouth does not stay shut.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet as Avery heads for the showers.

Nat goes still. “Sure.”

“Is Syd the reason you don’t play?”

“No.” Nat shakes his head with surprising vehemence. “I fucked up my hockey future all on my own.”

I want so desperately to know more, but I am also a coward. “It’s very obvious you love her a lot.”

“She’s my everything.” He stands, and I lean forward to snatch a shoe off the ground. ’Cause he’s about to drop his towel to pull on his pants, and I’m definitely not gonna look.

The title of that book isThings I Don’t Need to Know About Nat Taylor.Chapter One:The Size of His—

“She’s your everything,” I find myself saying, and I’m not sure where the words come from. “And she’s the reason you’re torn between the hockey world and the repo business?”

His head whips towards me, eyes round and wide as silver dollars—but you know, in green. A beat of silence follows, then, “How do youdothat shit?”

“What shit?” I tug a shirt over my head, follow it up with a University of Miami hoodie. The green’s lovely with my skin tone.

“The one where you see through me like I’m completely transparent.”

I can’t help the grin that unfurls across my face. “Aw, aren’t we just so cute, finishing each other’s sandwiches and everything.”

“I mean it. How’d you know that?”

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