Page 76 of Shut Up and Score
We jog onto the turf, already condemned men. The rest of the team’s already halfway through warm-up laps, Colton included, not that I’m looking.
Much.
Coach eyes us like we just tracked dog shit across his house. “Did you two get lost on the way from your dorms or just forget what punctuality looks like?”
“Sorry, Coach,” I mutter, pulling my hoodie tighter. “Won’t happen again.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” His eyes narrow. “Run. Five laps. Now. And don’t jog like you just got off a stripper pole.”
Luke perks up. “Which one of us are you talking to?”
“Both!”
We take off before he can get creative with our punishment.
Luke settles into an easy pace beside me, already winded but pretending not to be. I’m two steps from passing out when someone falls into step on my other side.
I don’t have to look.
Ifeelhim.
That magnetic, infuriating presence—like standing too close to a fire you swore you were done with but keep circling anyway. Colton doesn’t say anything for a minute.
Then he mutters, too low for anyone else to hear, “Overslept or?—?”
I glance at him, jaw tight. “Excuse me?”
He nods toward Luke, who’s now humming the chorus to a Kesha song and definitely not minding his own business. “Guess you had company last night.”
“Oh, you don’t get to tell me who I fuck!” I snap before I can stop myself.
His gaze flicks to mine. There’s heat in it. And something else I don’t want to name.
“I didn’t realize you were inviting people over now,” he says, voice low. “Guess I missed the open-door policy.”
I jerk my head toward him, eyes narrowing. “Wow. Subtle. And even if I had an open-door policy, it would be locked tight for you.”
He shrugs, gaze flicking toward Luke, who’s still humming, pretending he’s got no clue he’s in a three-act tragedy. “Just seems like a fast rebound.”
“Funny,” I snap, “coming from the guy who kissed me and then regretted it almost instantly.”
Colton’s jaw tightens. “You’re the one who walked away.”
“I did, Colt, because I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses. I don’t want to be caught up in your fucking drama. Stay in the closet; I don’t give a flying fuck. Just leave me alone.” I spit the words, and they pour from me in a venomous river, and for a second, he actually flinches.
Good.
He opens his mouth—probably to say something cutting, or noble, or infuriating—but Luke beats him to it.
“You know,” Luke says casually, falling back into pace beside me, “for a guy who’s not interested, you sure act like he’s yours.”
Colton’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t bite.
Luke smirks. “Don’t worry, though. He wasn’t exactly lonely last night.” He pats me on the ass and winks.
I groan. “Luke?—”
Colton stops running for a second, stumbling over his feet before catching up again.
