Page 26 of Played
“Well, there she is,” Mark, an EMT on my shift, crows, appearing at the end of the bank of lockers. He leans a shoulder against it,a shit-eating grin stretched across his handsome face. “Our very own celebrity. And apparently, a big fan of hockey.”
Scowling, I yank open my locker and—fuck me—glare at the big green, blue, and white jersey with Solomon’s number on it. I only know this because it bears the same number on the signed jersey he gifted to me.
“Haha.” I jerk the jersey down and toss it behind me to the bench. “How old are all of you?”
It seems like the rest of the house crowds in behind and beside Mark, all grinning like twelve-year-old assholes. Well, everyone except for Malcolm, whose frown is damn near as dark as mine.
“Since when did you become a puck bunny, Wright?” Matt Husband asks. Unlike the others, his voice holds a hint of an edge. No one else seems to notice, but I can’t miss it.
Without turning around, I give him my middle finger, then pull off my jacket. He chuckles, and again, it’s not nice.
“Okay, enough. Lay off her.” Jared shoves through the group, pushing his way to the front of them. “You all have work to do, and if not, come see me. I can find some for you.” Good-natured grumbles meet his order. “But Wright.” He pauses, and in the next second, a big smile blooms over his face. “You think you can get me Solomon Young’s autograph? Y’know, since you’re so ... close to him an’ all.”
“Et tu, Lieutenant?”
Jared smiles wider.
“Ay, unless all of you want more of a show than you bargained for, then I suggest you clear out so I can change,” I warn.
That does the trick of getting them to leave, but not without some more teasing and laughter. When they’re gone, I plop down on the bench instead of stripping and grab my uniform. Propping my elbows on my thighs, I drop my head into my hands. I suck in a deep breath, count to ten, then slowly exhale.
Nope.
That did nothing to calm my racing pulse or silence the chaotic whirl of thoughts in my head.
This isn’t good. Not good at all.
Not only did I make a huge mistake two nights ago, but now the whole world gets to witness it. God, I hadn’t seen anyone taking notice of us, much less taking pictures. But somehow I forgot Solomon Young is a big deal, especially in Providence. Why didn’t I foresee the possibility of this happening?
Oh damn.
Has Dad seen this? Malik? Malcolm definitely has. I mentally wince. After that disastrous dinner, Solomon is now their archnemesis. And I’d been caught literally kissing the enemy.
Sighing, I grip the bottom of my shirt, then pause.
I don’t need to turn around to know that I’m not alone. The hairs standing on the back of my neck clue me in that Matt is back in the locker room.
“You had me fooled, Adina.” He laughs again, leaning a shoulder against the locker next to mine. I glance over at him, arching an eyebrow. He’s not a bad-looking guy. It’s his pushiness and inability to take no for an answer that makes him so not my type. “And here I thought you just weren’t ready to start dating again after Keshaun. I guess I was wrong.”
He’s not. Or not really.
Hell, after that kiss, I don’t know anymore.
Idoknow him bringing up Keshaun has my temperature rising.
Forcing a smile, I toss my bag in my locker, shut it, and face him.
“Like I told you before, Matt. I’m not really in the headspace to start seeing anyone. And getting involved with a firefighter in the same house is messy as hell.”
I’ve said this before. Four times before, to be exact. But here I go again. Being a parrot.
“That picture says different.”
“That picture was nothing.”
“Didn’t look like nothing.”
I grit my teeth. Why the fuck am I up here explaining this to him like he’s my father when Dad didn’t grill me like this? Hell, Dad’s probably more upset over Solomon insulting Brady than the kiss.
