Page 89 of Falling Offsides

“Blue Note,” he states.

No smirk. Nothing but a nod before he steps backwards to the bench with his name over it. Next to Jayden Morrow’s.

The locker room is emptying out. Only a handful of players left which makes the atmosphere closer. I can feel Auguste’s eyes on me when I gather my camera bag and the lighting tripod.

“You got plans tonight?” Auguste asks Jayden when he finishes his conversation with Eli Sylkes.

“Not really. I’m driving Eli home and then chilling for the night.”

“You don’t have to drive me home,” Sylkes tells him, pulling the billof his cap all the way down over his face as he leans back into his cubby. “I’m waiting for the Motrin to work and I can drive myse?—”

“I’m driving you. Not an argument,” Jayden cuts him off with a concerned frown before he focuses back on Auguste.

“We’re going out…” Auguste tells him.

Jayden looks up from where he’s lacing his sneakers now. “We are?”

“Team bonding,” Auguste says simply as Matheo drops onto the bench over from Auguste’s.

Matheo smirks. “I’m in for a little team bonding.”

“Build chemistry off the ice,” Erik chuckles from across the room. “No stray pucks flying around the place.”

Auguste scowls at him.

“Where is this team building taking place?” Jayden asks.

Auguste’s brow cocks. “Blue Note.”

Even though I knew it was coming. I saw it all play out right in front of me, I’m still shocked at how swiftly Auguste orchestrated the whole plan. From the puckered lip expression on his face, I’d say he’s feeling pretty damn smug about it too.

“Fucking love me some karaoke.” Matheo pushes back to his feet, grabbing his towel and heading for the showers.

“More like blowing out our eardrums,” Ansel mocks, shaking water from his hair.

Rookie Oliver looks around the room. “Wait, we’re really doing karaoke?”

“They are… I’m taking my girl out for dinner,” Dylan answers, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder and heading out the door with salute. “Laters, assholes.”

Auguste is making a show of grabbing his shower bag. Moving all slow so that every flex of his muscles is exaggerated and so goddamn sexy. My mouth is watering at the sight of all his gorgeous skin stretching taut and smooth and glorious.

Damn him.

He’s playing dirty and he knows it.

I step back toward the door, my heart pounding and my fingers twitching from trying not to stare too hard.

“Laters, Princess,” Auguste rumbles when we cross paths.

I swear, the low gravel of his voice keeps on vibrating in my chest as I walk down the hallway to the chorus of animated conversation behind me.

There goes my plan—so much for putting Auguste damn Broussard out of my mind.

EIGHTEEN

COURTNEY

Four outfit changes,two cancelled Ubers, and one almost panic attack later, I’m standing outside the karaoke bar. My pulse is racing away with itself as I give myself a quick glance down my body.

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