Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Wouldn’t it?
I bite down on my lip as I pull my hair into a ponytail, wrapping the band around it three times and letting it bounce.
Can you imagine the tension in the locker room if this date goes bad? What if we’re dating and have a fight? What if we break up? What if I’m crying and Gio wants to defend my honor? What if Luca gets benched and people whisper that it’s because of me?
Like I’ve cursed him.
That shit happens, you know.
I’ve seen it a million times.
It wouldn’t just be uncomfortable. It would be humiliating.
All the more reason why I should ignore Luca Babineaux. But instead because your girl here clearly enjoys self-sabotage, I type back.
Me: Fine. One drink. But just so we’re clear—this is not a date.
His response is instant.
Luca: Never said it was.
“Oh he’s smooth. Real smooth…” Look at him trying to reverse psychology me into thinking he doesn’t think this is a date! Ha! “Nice try, Luca Babineaux. But I see what you’re doing.”
Or.
Maybe he doesn’t actually see me that way? Maybe I’m the one reading into this. Maybe I should try harder to impress him—that would serve him right.
I refuse to be mind-fucked into caring about this.
To prove just how unfuckable I am, I refuse to put in any effort beyond what is absolutely necessary to show up, drink my one drink, and leave with my sanity intact.
I will wear the dullest, least date-like outfit I can think of, because if this isn’t a date, I need to look like it’s not a date.
No makeup.
No cute top that shows off my amazing boobs.
And definitely no heels.
And. I’ll choose the least date-like bar to meet him at.
Me: Meet me at the bar—Rainforest Café, downtown. 8:00.
I smirk to myself. Nothing is less sexy than screaming children at the mall, fake thunder, fake lightning, and loud music.
Luca: OMFG I LOVE THAT PLACE.
The smile is instantly wiped off my face as I glare at his reply; he’s screwing with me.
He must be!
No self-respecting man should love the Rainforest Café. It’s messy, chaotic, and comes with a side of screaming toddlers and overpriced mozzarella sticks. The animatronic gorillas alone should be enough to scare him off.
At seven thirty, I throw on my least flattering hoodie, leggings that have definitely seen better days, and my oldest sneakers. And if my hair in a messy bun at the top of my head doesn’t scream friend-zone, I don’t know what does.
He loves the Rainforest Café?
Fine.
Let’s see how much he really loves it when we’re stuck in a booth next to a malfunctioning elephant and a three-year-old named Brayden throwing fries.
I text back.
Me: Hope you like jungle sounds and overpriced chicken tenders
Luca: I always order the ones shaped like dinosaurs.
Oh my God. Why is he so…chipper? And agreeable? And adorable?
I wonder if he’s always so amendable as I give myself a once-over in the full-length mirror in the hallway, nodding in approval.
Perfect.
I look like shit—and I mean that in the most intentional way possible…
Now, all I have to do is keep reminding myself why dating my brother’s teammate is a terrible, terrible idea.
So no. I will not be getting attached.
This will not be classified as a date.
This is not the beginning of something special.
This is a one-drink experiment. A flirtation detox. A very public, very casual situation that will burn out as quickly as it started.
I’ll have one drink. Maybe two. I’ll laugh at a few of his dumb jokes, keep my hoodie on, and go home.
And then I’ll delete him from the app.
2
luca
The Rainforest Café?
I mean—it’s a choice.
Not a great one. Not a sexy one. Not the kind of place I’d normally take a girl I’ve been dying to get my hands on. But Nova?
She’s testing me.
She probably thinks I’m too stupid to realize it, maybe she thinks I’ve been knocked in the face one too many times with a hockey stick to have a set of brains. The joke is on her because I wasn’t born yesterday, and I know what she’s doing.
The truth is: I already know this is a shitty idea.
I already know I won’t be able to tell Gio.
Why would I?
This isn’t a date.
Nova said so much herself and who am I to contradict her? A mere drink between acquaintances…
Another truth: as my teammate’s sister, she is the one woman I absolutely should not date. Sure, I’m attracted to her. I’d be a fool not to be. But her brother has a history of giving hell to anyone who so much as utters her name, especially when it comes to finding her attractive. Zero dudes in the history of the Baddies have ever taken her out; handing her a drink at a Christmas party does.
Not.
Count.
So when Nova popped up on my screen on the dating app, I about rolled off my goddamn couch.