Page 49 of The Defender
I groaned and turned on my side. I glared at the wall separating my room from Vincent’s, wishing I could scrub my brain clean of his voice.
I might have a work thing that night. Can I confirm and get back to you?
Mason
No problem. Just lmk when you’re free, and we’ll make it work
Mason
Only if you want, of course :)
His easy understanding only made me feel worse.
Why couldn’t I get out of my own way? And why couldn’t Mason give me butterflies the way a certain other, off-limits person could?
I let out another groan. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in my comforter, the memory of Vincent’s face floating through my head.
I really hated myself sometimes.
VINCENT
I could hear Brooklyn breathing.
It was physically impossible, given how thick the wall was between our rooms, but I swore I detected her soft inhales as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Every time I closed my eyes, the image of her in that towel seared itself into the back of my lids—long legs, tousled hair, and more bare skin than was decent. I couldn’t erase it any more than I could erase the dozens of other memories that’d imprinted on my mind. There was a full Brooklyn Armstrong gallery up there, but I’d rather not visit tonight. It was too dangerous, so I kept my eyes wide open. Unfortunately, it only helped a little bit.
I could still feel her presence through the wall, warm and soft and just the right amount of prickly. She’d surprised me with her pep talk, and I’d surprised myself when I invited her to the Zenith dinner.
I shouldn’t have done that. I had a hard enough time resisting her at home without bringing her to business meetings. But fuck, she just…comforted me. When I talked to her, I felt like everything would work out. She didn’t try to kiss my ass, and if she said I was good, I was good.
There weren’t many people in my life I could trust like that. I was going to be surrounded by sharks at that dinner. I needed someone who was on my side, even if their tongue was sharper than any blade.
I turned my head. A beam of moonlight sliced through the darkness and illuminated the wall separating us. The shadows of dozens of stuffed animals loomed in the background.
My lips curved. Brooklyn was a menace for pulling that stunt—I sneezed every time I entered my room because there were so many damn plushies—but I had to admire her creativity.
Honestly, I was surprised she hadn’t tried to seduce me in the hall. She was competitive as hell, and after an initial flurryof attempts to win our bet—like I couldn’t see right through her yoga pants scheme—her efforts had died down.
Was she distracted by something, or someone, else?
Maybe she’s busy with Mason.The unwelcome thought shoehorned its way into my head, and my smile faded.
I’d had to force myself not to react when Brooklyn told me they’d been texting. I really didn’t like that guy, but I didn’t blame him for chasing her. If she weren’t the coach’s daughter and she didn’t work at Blackcastle, I would’ve done the same thing.
As it stood, our bet was the closest thing we’d ever have to a relationship.
I resisted the urge to knock on the wall and see if she was still awake. That would be corny as hell. Plus, if shewasawake, I’d rather not torture myself picturing all the things she could be doing—like texting a certain American who was tactless enough to hit on her in front of another man.
Yeah, Brooklyn and I weren’t a couple, but he hadn’t known that before flirting with her, had he?
Something green and oily poured through my blood. I clenched my jaw and yanked my gaze away from the wall. I resumed staring at the ceiling, where I tried to count pet pigs instead of thinking about my flatmate.
One Truffle.
Blonde hair.
Two Truffles.
