Page 20 of Thunderstruck
Their looks of relief and excitement send a jolt of pleasure through me. That’s something I could get used to.
Chapter Seven
Cole
I should have left.That’s starting to feel like a pattern with me, and yet I’m still sitting on the edge of the training pitch instead of on my dad’s back porch, where I’m supposed to be, because Carissa Paxton has once again made herself a nuisance.
Rolling my eyes, I swallow a gulp of water and tell myself—again—that the only reason I’m here is because I chose to be. I could have left an hour ago, when practice ended, and Carissa probably would have been fine.
It’s that ‘probably’ that has kept me here longer than I need to be.
I trust the guys on my team, but after the talk I heard in the locker room today, that trust is hanging by a thread. All of the single guys—and some of the taken ones—were quick to express their interest in Carissa, which is ridiculous because Bean’s the only one who can say he’s spoken to her for more than a few seconds. I can’t decide if he’s more interested than he was to begin with or if he’s afraid of her. It might be both.
Besides, Carissa is engaged. She’s not even available.
But now there’s a bet on who will get a date first, and high stakes tend to turn people into idiots when they are otherwise rational. That’s why I’m watching Carissa teach the guys some stretches on the field. Not because I want to win the bet but because I’m worried Carissa will be the one to lose. According to Bean, who is out there stretching with the dozen other guys who have stuck around, Carissa can take care of herself, but I’m not willing to leave her safety up to her.
I wonder if she knows how to say no.
Right now, she’s hugging French Roast’s extended leg while he lies on his back on the ground, and despite knowing she’s helping him stretch his hamstring, the position they’re both in looks…questionable. And isn’t at all convincing me that it’s a good idea to leave.
My phone buzzes where it’s resting on my leg, and I look down at the text, unsurprised to see the message from my dad.
Dad:
Did practice go long?
I could lie and say yes, but even through a text he would know it’s not the truth. Sighing, I pick up my phone and type back a response.
Cole:
No, but something came up. I’ll be there soon.
That all depends on how long Carissa plans on doing her little yoga routine.
I do feel bad that I’ve delayed our weekly barbecue, but Dad will understand. He and Gramps would kill me if they ever found out I left a girl like Carissa on her own with half a rugby team, even if these guys are all pretty decent. Sure, it would make more sense if I was actually over there stretching with them, but despite Freya’s threats, I’m no more interested in the idea of befriending my teammates than they are in accepting me.
My phone buzzes again, and I grit my teeth when I realize it’s not my dad this time but the princess herself. Seriously, does she have a camera trained on me at all times or something?
Freya:
Are you making friends yet?
Cole:
I don’t agree with your terms.
Freya:
You do not have to agree. Consider it a royal edict.
Cole:
I’m not Candoran. Neither are you queen.
Freya:
Yet.
