Page 62 of Scoring the Player
“Well, I wanted to celebrate by gawking at you wearing my jersey all night.”
A hint of something like embarrassment flashes across her face.
“You look gorgeous,” I reassure her. “Just, you know, even more gorgeous when people know you’re mine.”
I have no filter tonight. Something I should probably try to rectify before I get entirely too carried away.
She lifts our raised hands. “I think they still get the idea.”
The three of us stand around talking and drinking, but I get yanked into other conversations far more often than I want. Buddies want to say good game and teammates want to celebrate.
I lose Dahlia and Jane when I get pulled inside to do a shot with my teammates.
Holly catches me afterward. “Where’s your girl? She didn’t leave, did she?”
“No, she’s outside.”
“Is she okay?” The expression on my sister’s face takes me back to earlier when I asked if Dahlia was at the party. Like then, Holly looks nervous or anxious or something.
“Why wouldn’t she be okay?”
“It might be nothing,” she says quickly. Too quickly.
“What the hell happened?”
“At halftime, Dahlia and I went up to get snacks and use the restroom.”
I motion with my hand for her to get to the point.
“I was waiting for Dahlia outside and Bethany came out just before her, looking far too pleased with herself. I asked Dahlia about it, but she shrugged it off. I saw the expression on her face though. She was upset. I have a bad feeling Bethany said or did something to her.”
I grind down on my back molars.
“What are you going to do?” Holly asks.
“I don’t know. Find Dahlia for starters.”
“I’m sorry,” Holly says. “For what it’s worth though, I really like Dahlia. Your taste in women has improved.”
“She’s great,” I say through gritted teeth. “Which is why I need to go find her.”
“Don’t screw this one up,” she calls after me with a laugh that I know is meant to lighten the mood but fails.
Fucking Bethany has crossed a line this time. She can shovel her bullshit at me, but not Dahlia.
I find my girl in the same spot I left her with Jane. The latter is saying something and Dahlia smiles in response. I scan her outfit seeing it differently now. Jean shorts and a plain white tank top. It’s what she wore to the game, minus one important article of clothing.
I reach them, wrap my arm around Dahlia’s forearm, and pull her toward me. “Can I talk to you a second?”
Jane tips her head. “I’m gonna go dance.”
Dahlia nods to her and then looks at me, confusion marring her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Why aren’t you wearing my jersey?”
“I took it off after the game.” Her brows tug together, and she smiles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal.”
“Did Bethany say something to you?”
