Page 23 of Face Off
“Peachy.”
He doesn’t buy it, but he lets me be.
Murphy starts up again. “What if Sophie gets cornered out there? What if Finn starts crying? I should’ve told her not to bring him.”
“She’s fine,” Dylan insists. “She’s got Mia with her.”
“And Chloe,” Murphy adds bitterly.
Something in me snaps. Before I can stop myself, I mutter, “She’s not the devil, you know.”
The room goes still. Too many ears heard it. Murphy’s head jerks toward me, eyes sharp.
“What?”
I swallow. Shit. “I said, she’s not the devil. She’s…working. She’s not here to go after you or Sophie.”
The silence stretches. A couple of the guys exchange looks, surprise sparking like static.
Murphy’s glare could cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for her act too, now.”
I should backtrack. I should laugh it off, deflect, anything. But my mouth doesn’t cooperate. “Maybe it’s not an act.”
Murphy’s whole body tenses, like he’s ready to drop the gloves with me right here, now. Dylan puts a hand on his chest before it goes further. “Enough. Both of you.”
The room exhales slowly, noise creeping back in as if nothing happened. But the tension hangs heavy, and my pulse hammers against my ribs.
I shove my skates into my bag and stand, desperate for air.
Jacko calls after me, “Want a muffin for the road?”
“Later,” I toss back. My throat’s too tight to eat.
The corridor outside is cooler, quieter. I lean against the wall and drag a hand over my face. Brilliant, Taylor. Just brilliant. One wink and you’re ready to burn team loyalty on a girl everyone else despises.
Except she’s not just “everyone else” to me anymore.
I can still see the flicker in her eyes when Murphy said Tabloid Girl. The way she squared her shoulders anyway, chin up, like she was daring the whole world not to break her.
Something about that makes me want to plant myself between her and every insult aimed her way.
But if I start down that path, what happens? Dylan will see through me. Jacko will ask questions. Murphy…Murphy will never forgive me.
I push off the wall, shoving the thought aside. I need to find Chloe. Not to confess anything stupid. Just to make sure she’s okay. That’s all.
Right.
The press lounge is nearly empty when I step in, but she’s still there. Laptop shut, bag slung over one shoulder. She looks tired, shadows under her eyes, but still impossibly sharp in that way that makes me want to tease a smile out of her.
She notices me instantly, lips parting in surprise.
“You following me, Taylor?”
I smirk, defaulting to banter like its armour. “What, a guy can’t check in on the media?”
Her gaze narrows, sceptical. “Pretty sure that’s not standard post-game protocol.”
“Maybe I’m not standard.”
