Page 13 of Flag On The Play
He takes a small step forward, but I don’t flinch. “Fine. Whatever. No past. Just this.”
He pulls a wad of cash from his jacket and holds it out to me like it’s a peace offering instead of a slap in the face. “I couldn’t reach the stage earlier. Here’s what I would’ve laid at your feet.”
And that’s it. That’s my breaking point.
“Fuck you, Finlay.”
He blinks.
“You think just because you’re some overpaid football god, you can throw money at me like I’m going to fall at your feet? Please. I guarantee I make just as much as you do. Maybe more.”
His lips twitch like he wants to grin.
“And if you think your cash or your charm can buy you anything from me, let alone forgiveness, you’re out of your damn mind. You’re still the same arrogant, self-righteous prick you were in high school.”
I brush past him, but pause, turning just enough to let the last words burn.
“Oh, and stop showing up at Heaven like you belong here. There are plenty of other strip clubs desperate for your money. This one isn’t.”
Then I walk.
I don’t look back.
I don’t stumble.
And I sure as hell don’t let him see the way my hands shake from the adrenaline.
Because I may not have been the golden girl in high school, but I sure as hell won’t be the one who melts at his feet now.
I slam the door shut behind me and kick off my boots like they personally offended me.
“He followed me outside the damn club.”
Delaney pokes her head out of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. “Please tell me you mean a customer and not him.”
Roxy, lounging on the couch with a beer in hand and a glittery blanket draped over her legs like a queen, lifts one brow. “You don’t even have to say his name. That level of rage? Definitely screams Finlay fucking Reed.”
I drop onto the arm of the couch and toss my bag down like it weighs a thousand pounds. “He was waiting. Leaning against the wall like a goddamn Calvin Klein ad. All smug and pretty and full of shit.” It hits me suddenly, and I jerk my head to Roxy. “Wait, how the hell did you beat me home?”
“Backup showed up and I ran.” She lifts her beer and grins. “I wasn’t distracted by a douchebag.”
Delaney snorts and goes back to stirring whatever delicious thing she’s cooking. “Why does he keep showing up like a football-playing instigator?”
“Because he’s got the emotional maturity of a grapefruit,” I mutter. “And apparently, a God complex that just won't quit.”
Roxy cracks a grin. “Details. I want all of them. Tell me he choked on your rejection again.”
“Oh, it gets better,” I say, spinning to face them both. “He pulled out another wad of cash like it was some grand romantic gesture. Said it was what hewould’ve laid at my feetduring my set.”
Roxy coughs on her beer. “Did he really say lie at your feet? Is he auditioning for a role in a porno?”
Delaney walks over with a bowl of pasta and places it on the table, lips twitching. This girl is the best. School all day and comes to my place to make a home-cooked meal. “Okay, but like, that’s kind of poetic. Trashy, but poetic.”
“Don’t make me throw carbs at you,” I warn, but I’m already smiling. Because only these two can pull me out of the storm cloud that is Finlay Reed.
Roxy props her chin on her hand. “What did you say?”
“I told him to fuck off. That I didn’t want or need his money, and that I probably make just as much as he does.”
