It’s mine.
Only mine.
“Is there someone else? A different girl?”
He hums, his gaze not quite meeting mine. “No.”
“Is that because you like men?”
That gets his attention. Rodney’s head turns my way, his expression closed off. It’s the least open I’ve seen him so far.
“Why are you asking? Did Liam send you over here to make fun of me? Is this how you get to prove you’re one of the team?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he keeps going. “Well, you can tell him to fuck off. I’m not dealing with his bullshit tonight. He knows I’m gay, just like everyone else does. There’s your answer. Now I’m going to leave to find Yaz and get out of here.”
He takes off through the crowd, his smaller form weaving through others at a rate I couldn’t dare mimic. I watch him for a moment, my head spinning over the information he just sent my way.
He thinks the team put me up to talking to him, which means they’ve given him shit before. And he mentioned Liam by name. I knew I didn’t like the asshole, but now I’m concerned I’ll have to fucking kill him.
I have an uncle that’s head of the Bratva. He’s an estranged relative, though I’m sure he’d show up if I asked for the favor. It’s my father he has issues with, not me. Plus, he won’t resist the chance to toss his weight around.
Pushing away thoughts of murder, I take off in the same direction Rodney went. He needs to know I’m not here because of some initiation or for any other reason than wanting him.
Given my height, I’m able to spot him when he slips out the back door. I ignore the rest of the team trying to get my attention as I move through the crowd. They can have their fun. All they asked was for me to show up. I’m here and now I have a mission of my own to complete.
At the back door, there’s a small holdup that means it takes me even longer to get outside. I don’t see him at first glance. The area is just as packed as the inside. From my position on the raised deck, I scan the crowd for any sign of Rodney or Yaz.
When I don’t see him, I take off down the stairs to see if I can spot him around the side of the house. As luck would have it, he’s leaning against the building when I round the corner.
There’s a gate not far to his right, which blocks off the area to anyone who might try to get to the front of the house. No wonder there weren’t lots of people over here. It must be common knowledge for them. This place seems like it hosts lots of parties.
“Rodney,” I call out to get his attention. I don’t want to scare him or make him feel cornered.
His body goes still at my voice. He turns to face me, his expression telling me he’s confused as to why I’m even here.
I raise my hands to show I mean him no harm.
“What are you doing here? I already told you I didn’t want —”
“I’m not friends with them,” I interrupt. “The team is just a team to me. I didn’t know you had history with them.”
He makes a noise that’s half laugh, half sob. “History is putting it mildly. Though it’s not just them. Most athletes seem to hate me.”
“I don’t like that.”
“You and me both. There’s nothing to be done about it. I’ve been their target since high school. College has been better I guess, though not by much. At least it’s not physical now.”
The way he says the words gives them a sense of finality. Like he’s been hurt time and time again, yet no one stood up for him.
It makes me furious.
How could anyone want to hurt him? They’re all fucking idiots.
Idiots who are going to learn a lesson the next time they go after my little genius. Maybe a few black eyes will do the trick. If not, then I've learned more than one lesson from my family to get people to do what I want them to.
“They won’t hurt you anymore. I vow it.”
He looks at me skeptically. I’m not sure how I can reassure him that I mean what I said.
“You can’t promise that. You won’t always be where I am.”