Page 22 of Between Love and War
She glares at me, but looks around her to confirm that no one is paying attention. “Name your price.”
I grin. “Oh, I’m saving this one. I don’t know when, but one day, you’ll hear me say ‘remember that time I saved you’ and you’ll just… owe me.”
Kate’s response to that is very mature. She sticks her tongue out.
I bark out a laugh—quick, sharp, surprised at myself. She’s so damn easy to rile up.
She goes back to her drink like nothing happened, and the noise around us rushes back in. I shake my head, still grinning, and change the subject.
“So. What’s this event about, anyway?”
She blinks. “Why do you care?”
I shrug. “If I’m being roped into it, might as well know what I’m suffering for.”
She sighs. “You heard Manang Linda, it’s a year-end event. Usually just a themed party with games and dancing.”
“You lost me at dancing,” I say.
That gets her attention. Her eyes light up with something that looks a little too close to mischief. “Oh, don’t worry,” she says, grinning like she’s just found her next victim. “I’ll find something extra wholesome for you. Maybe you can dress up as Santa’s grumpy cousin. Or the Christmas tree. You’ve got the height.”
I smirk. “Funny. Maybe you can go as one of Santa’s elves. You don’t even need a costume—you've got the height.” I wink.
She shoots me a flat look. “I’m not that short.”
I nod toward her legs. “Your feet are swinging.”
She frowns and glances down, realizing the truth: the couch is too deep, and since she’s lounging like she’s melting into it, her legs really are dangling an inch off the floor.
With a huff, she straightens up and crosses her arms. “Not all of us have egos large enough to fill the rest of our bodies.”
“What you mean is… not everyone can be six-foot-four and attractive.”
Kate laughs sarcastically, but she doesn’t say anything. She just shakes her head and sips her drink, like I’m not worth the oxygen. But the corners of her mouth twitch.
I smile back. I don’t evenlikeher, but messing with her is the most alive I’ve felt since I got here.
It’s probably the challenge.
Or boredom.
Or both.
CHAPTER NINE
Michael
Idrown out the noise as much as I can. But it’s everywhere.
This morning, I made the mistake of turning on the TV. I just wanted to check the news—maybe weather, maybe headlines, maybe anything that didn’t have my name on it. But five minutes in, it shifted to entertainment. Grainy photos of me in uniform flashed across the screen with the captionMichael Lee in Hiding?
I shut it off before they could speculate about where I am or what I’m doing.
My phone isn't any better. Messages from my teammates pile up with screenshots of Reddit posts, Facebook rumors, TikToks of fans analyzing my last public appearance.
Heather called last night about another sponsor walking away. She said it’s “still under negotiations,” but I could hear the truth in her voice. It’s not under negotiations. It’s slipping.
I take a breath and step outside. I’m wearing the usual gym clothes, because I don’t own anything else.
