Page 31 of Mad Rivals
I have no idea what to say to that, so I don’t reply.
I decide to text Clem instead, but before I can, my dad pops his head into my office.
“I’m going to sit in on the Bradley meeting tomorrow,” he says.
I nod and force myself to keep my cool. “Nine o’clock.” I don’t want him there. I get nervous enough around Madden. I don’t need my dad there inspecting every single word coming out of my mouth when words cease to work the majority of the time when I’m around that man.
He flusters me, and I don’t like it. It’s why I wanted Clem there. Why I invited David.
But my father? No thanks.
My dad presses his lips together, and he doesn’t say anything at all to the time of the meeting.
Why are men so weird?
I pick my phone up to text Clem.
Me:Thank God you’re coming to that meeting tomorrow. The hot football player and my dad are going to be in the same room, and I’m already sweating.
I set my phone to the side to get some work done, and my phone dings a second later with a new text.
I pick it up, and butterflies take flight in my chest when I see who it’s from.
But when I click on the text, those butterflies seem to straight up die as dread spreads all throughout their place.
Madden:You think I’m hot?
Oh. My. Motherfucker.
I glance up at the text I just sent, and sure enough, the text meant for Clem went to freakingMadden.
God, I’m an idiot. I thought I switched to her contact, but my dad flustered me, and I have a million things on my to-do list today, and shit, shit, shit.
I hold down the text to see if there’s some way to unsend it, but it’s too late. He’s already read it. Hell, he’s alreadyrespondedto it. It doesn’t matter if I unsend it or delete it. The words are in his head now, and I’m trying to figure out how to handle that.
Me:That text wasn’t meant for you.
Madden:But it was about me.
Me:I refuse to confirm that.
Madden:Are you meeting with other football players behind my back?
Me:If I was, it wouldn’t be your business.
Madden:To be clear, I’m not meeting with other gorgeous real estate developers who appear to miss their former graphic design job.
That’s the second time he’s called me gorgeous, and I sink back into my chair as I try to figure out how to reply—once again coming up blank, naturally.
Me:Can we forget this happened?
Madden:Not a chance in hell, tiger. You called me hot. I’ll never forget this moment.
Me:STOP WITH THE TIGER BUSINESS.
Madden:Then stop being all fierce and demanding.
Me:You are beyond annoying.
