Page 96 of Wildcat
I pull Scarlett tighter into my side and leave my arm wrapped around her waist. She looks up at me with those killer brown eyes, and my heart beats faster.
It’s a fun night, letting loose with the team. During the season, nights like this are few and far between. And it seems like everyone is taking full advantage.
The booze is flowing, the karaoke is loud and awful, and I can’t stop touching my girl. Though that last thing has little to do with the boozy atmosphere.
We’re sitting on the couch: me, Scarlett, Ash, and Talia. The latter is trying to convince Scarlett to sit in the WAG section at the next home game.
“You have to,” she says. “It’s so much fun.”
She looks to me for help.
Before I can tell her to sit wherever she wants, Ash leans over. “I don’t know. Do they letfriendssit in that section?”
I’m gonna kill him.
I hook an arm around his neck and hold him in a headlock.
“Not the hair,” he says, while sending an elbow into my ribs.
We’re just playing, but Talia gasps beside him.
I let him loose, but when I look over at her, it isn’t us she’s staring at it.
“Oh my god.” Her eyes widen, and she looks up from her phone like it personally accosted her.
“What’s up, babe?” Ash asks and tucks his hair behind his ears.
She hands over her phone, and when his face makes a similar shocked expression, an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He hands the phone back and whispers something to Talia, then stands. “Lohan, can you help me in the kitchen?”
“Umm… Sure.”
Scarlett looks between us, as confused as I am. I shrug and tell her I’ll be right back.
Ash grabs two new beers from the fridge and hands me one. “We have a problem.”
“Your hair looks fine.”
“Of course it does.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket, and several long seconds pass before he thrusts it in my direction.
There she is, my dream girl on the front page of some trashy tabloid.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath. I skim the article, but the pictures are what makes my heart pound in my chest. So this is the ex. Or as the headline puts it, Formula 1 Bad Boy Rhyse Fletcher.
She failed to mention that she kissed him.Fuck.
A sick feeling comes over me.
“What are you going to do?” Ash asks me.
“Show her.” I hand his phone back. “I’m sure there’s an explanation. She told me she saw him today and that nothing happened.”
Ash doesn’t look convinced, but I owe her an opportunity to explain. Fuck, I hope there’s a good explanation.
“Incoming,” Ash says behind his beer.
