Page 55 of The Defender
A laugh escaped Vincent’s lips.
I smiled, but a new text drew my eyes to my phone.
Mason
Did you figure out your schedule for Friday yet?
Mason
No pressure! Just wanted to see if I needed to change my dinner reservations :)
Crap. I completely forgot to follow up after I left him hanging last week.
Guilt cut through me.
I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t get out of my work thing. I won’t be able to make it on Friday after all
Mason
That’s okay. Are you free another night?
I bit my lip. He was persistent.
We stopped at a red light, and Vincent’s stare bore into my cheek as I debated my answer.
Should I give Mason a chance, or should I cut the thread now instead of stringing him along?
Fuck it.
I typed my reply and pocketed my phone, determined not to look at it again until I got home.
“Who was that? Scarlett?” Vincent asked casually.
“No, it was Mason. The guy I met at the arcade,” I added in case he didn’t remember. “He, um, asked me out.”
I wasn’t sure why I’d shared that information, but it was too late to take it back.
The light turned green. Vincent shifted his attention back to the road, his hands tightening near imperceptibly around the steering wheel.
“What did you say?” He sounded bored.
“I said no.” As perfect as he seemed on paper, I wasn’t interested in Mason like that, and I would want someone to tell me the truth if I were in his position.
Vincent didn’t respond. But I swore I saw a shadow of a smile linger on his mouth for the rest of our ride home.
CHAPTER 16
VINCENT
A week after the Zenith dinner, I left for our next match in Manchester. It was a four-hour drive from London, but the energy in the stadium was noticeably different. Restless, almost explosive.
The sea of red and white filling the stands was a visual reminder that we weren’t on our own turf anymore. It was always hard to give up home advantage, but this match had been an especially massive shit show so far. Gallagher and Dormund were on the bench due to injuries in the first half, and we were one down with a minute left to play.
My lungs burned. My shirt was soaked with sweat, and my muscles were shot, but we wereso closeto making this a draw.
Come on, Donovan.
The crowd roared as Asher gained possession of the ball. He broke toward the goal, his?—
