Page 22 of Who's Saving You
He smirks. “You don’t.”
I thought cleaning this up would be to work my way in, get some insider tips, and make some strategically placed bets. Not this, not a game. As he walks away from me, the night becoming even more silent, I pick up the folder and tuck it under my hoodie.
It’s just one game.
Just one play.
Just one lie.
And it will follow me forever.
8
Noelle
My best friend Sloane has claimed my couch, blanket over her legs, and a pint of cookie dough ice cream on her stomach. I’m opposite her, in my oversized chaise with a bag of sour ropes candy in my hand. We’re two peas in a pod with our love for sugar and a standing appointment every six months with the dentist, but of course, there could be worse things we could be addicted to.
“I went to that place, Club Trick, last week with your sister. You know, the night you were actively ignoring us.”
She raises a brow as I roll my eyes. “Some of us have to work.”
"That's all you do! You need to live a little. And besides, it wasn’t that bad. Bouncers handled the few guys that wouldn’t leave us alone.”
I wave my hand as she continues, “But the drinks wereoutstanding.” I shrug, and she says, “Apps were really tasty, too. And the music? You’d love i–”
“Fine, whatever. Next time you go, I’ll go.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.” Sloane does a little wiggle in the chair, knowing she won, and I go back to rummaging through my candy bag, titles for this article running through my mind.
Not a saint after all.
No one’s perfect, and I know why.
Nik Papas: Fraudulently Sexy.
“You’re doing it again,” she says without glancing up from scrolling on her phone.
“Doing what?”
“The Saint Nik glare. Like you’re plotting his downfall.” She sits up a little, letting her phone fall to the side as she picks up her spoon and digs back into her ice cream. “How did the game up north go?”
“They won, he saved the day despite having a couple of missed catches, and then avoided the press.” I don’t tell her how I found him in the hallway of the hotel later that night. I’m still trying to figure it out myself—why he called himself a fraud and why he reached for me. And most of all, why I wanted him to keep reaching.
Sloane chuckles. “I know you’re disgruntled–”
“I’m not disgruntled.”
“You’re irritated.”
“I have a job to do.”
“Okay, so do it. He’s a good guy, Noelle. Charities, family-oriented. Let the guy have a great rookie year,” she says with a smug grin.
I roll my eyes, but the heaviness in my chest doesn’t budge. “Good guys don’t exist.” It comes out half-mutter and more ‘woman scorned’than I intend.
That gets her attention. She lowers the spoon. “You’re still thinking about Dylan?”That name slices clean through me.When my reply is a raised eyebrow, she sits up even straighter. “Okay, we’re doing this. Talk to me.”
