Page 94 of Scoring the Player
“His name is Salem,” Blue says with a sharpness that locks us all in place. He nods for me to come closer to him. “Meet my sister and best friend.”
I cross the room and crouch to Anaïs’s level. “Hi. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well.”
She grins, and it’s warm but kind of fragile, like it’s costing her something. “Hi, Salem.”
I release her hand and notice the blood-red lips with fangs and a black tongue tatted on the inside of her arm.
“You and I will be best friends too,” she says, with a certainty that makes me smile. “Don’t leave without giving me your number.”
Blue scoffs, and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t look at him. He doesn’t like to share his friends.”
We both laugh.
Their dad clears his throat. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” he asks Blue.
All the light drains from his face. “I’ll be right back with your tea.”
“I’m talking to you.” His dad flies out of his seat to block Blue’s path.
Blue jerks back. “No. And don’t touch me.”
“Son, hold on,” his dad insists.
“Carter, stop,” Anaïs pleads.
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps. “I’m your father.”
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Blue growls back.
“I am your father, and you will refer to me?—”
“Yo, you want him to go?” Blue asks Anaïs.
“Excuse me!” Carter scoffs.
“No, it’s okay,” she replies, a tremble in her voice.
“Arnaz.” He moves like he’s going to grasp Blue’s arm, but Blue evades his reach before squaring up in his face.
“What did I just say?” The grit in Blue’s voice has me moving to his side.
His mother beats me there. “Whoa,” she says, trying to butt in between them. “Let’s all take a breath.”
The media overhypes their resemblance. Besides their eye color, tatted skin, and height, everything about Carter and Blue is different. There are the obvious differences like Carter’s white skin and jet-black hair, but where Carter is big and broad, Blue is chiseled and slim.
On second thought, he may have his mom’s downturned eyes, but the powerful rage and razor-sharp glare emanating from him are an exact replica of his father’s.
“Hey,” I place my hand on his back. “How about you and I go make that tea?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” Carter snipes at me.
“Don’t talk to him,” Blue sneers. “Don’t even fucking look at him.”
“It actually does, sir. I care about him, and he’s upset.”
“You care about him?” Carter repeats, glaring daggers at me. “This ismyfamily.”
“There aren’t any cameras here,” Blue scoffs. “You can knock off the good father act.”
