Page 29 of Blindsided
Regardless, she should have fucking told me about her plans tonight. I’m her fucking love coach or whatever she called me. And she knows how I feel about Santino, so the fact that she’s out with him feels like a complete betrayal of our friendship. I’m keen on telling her right fucking now.
I take the lift up to the rooftop restaurant where Allie said I could find them. The second the doors open, I know this is not a jeans and trainers sort of place, but I don’t give two flying fucks. The host eyes me up and down as I approach, his lips curling upward in judgment as he takes in the state of me.
“Sorry, sir, we have a strict dress code.” He looks down at his notebook full of utter shite.
“I’m just here to pick up a friend. I’ll be in and out.”
“I can’t let you go in there, sir,” he says with an awkward laugh as he eyes my ink-covered arms. “We have a reputation to uphold.”
My jaw cracks as I state through clenched teeth, “Your reputation will be destroyed if I send one tweet out to my 200,000 followers.”
“Your what?” he asks in disbelief.
“James!” a female voice squeals from beside us. “We can certainly find a table for Mr Maclay Logan, midfielder for Bethnal Green.”
I turn my gaze to the woman who’s now moved to stand beside Mr Twat Waffle, who is in serious need of a shaking. The woman eyes me hungrily, and the look irritates me further.
“I don’t need a seat. I just need to get in and grab my friend.”
I point towards the rooftop full of couples who are bathed in warm, romantic lighting, all enjoying the twinkling views of the London night skyline. My eyes do a cursory sweep, and I nearly keel over dead when I see Freya.My fucking Freyawalking past the tables with ease, like she’s Moses parting the Red Sea. She’s wearing the fucking stunner of a dress thatIbought for her. Even the damn shoes that came out of my fucking credit card are on her feet, mocking me. Her red hair is glossy and loose down her back, curled to perfection. I swear to Christ, every man in the room is turning to watch her walk by.
Cracking my neck, I make my way past the daft gatekeepers and towards my best mate, knocking into chairs like a bull in a china shop the entire way. Freya must hear the commotion because she turns her head, and her mouth opens as soon as she sees me barrelling towards her.
“Mac,” she says with an awkward laugh when I’m an arm’s length away. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you home.” I grab her arm, but she quickly yanks it out of my grip.
“What do you mean, taking me home? I’m on a date.” She looks around nervously at all the eyes focusing on us.
I cringe slightly when I see the attention I’m drawing, but it doesn’t stop me from replying. “I’ve heard all about yourdatewith Santino.”
She falters for a few seconds, her long-lashed eyes casting downward in shame as she attempts to find her words. “I would have told you, but—”
“Aye, it’s because of him that I’m taking you home.”
I reach for her hand again, but she evades my grasp. “Mac, you’re embarrassing me.”
My eyes fly wide, and I drop my head to level her with a serious scowl. “You should already be embarrassed for being seen in public with the likes of that wank stain.”
“Lower your voice,” Freya hisses, her jaw taut with aggravation. Her eyes dart to the right, and I follow her gaze to see the absolute sleekit, no-good bawbag in question.
Santino rises from his seat and eyes me with an arrogant look that I want to knock right off his smug face. He has an uncanny ability to look around the world as if it’s his. Like he’s done a lot of work to get here and he gets to enjoy it. I fucking hate it.
I stride towards him, ignoring Freya’s quiet pleas behind me. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Maclay,” Santino drones, his voice like a wet fucking blanket full of premature ejaculation stains. “Are you joining us?”
“Fuck no,” I reply flatly, my pulse quickening. “And neither is Freya.”
Santino cracks an awkward smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is there a problem here?”
I exhale heavily through my nose and place my hands on my hips. “Of all the women you have at your disposal, you really needed to seek outmybest mate?”
“Best mate?” Santino repeats the words like it’s the first he’s ever heard them. “Freya said she hasn’t spoken to you in days.”
His words feel like a punch in my gut, and I turn my hurt expression towards my friend.
Freya chews her lower lip. “I didn’t say it like that. He asked about you, and I said I hadn’t spoken to you. That’s all.”
She nervously wrings her hands in front of her, and I hate it. I hate this entire scene. And I especially hate that Santino thinks he has the right to voice my fucking name to my fucking friend.
