Safe Bet (The Rules #4)(32)

Talk about a mood changer. More like talk about a mood accelerator. The moment I sat next to Sydney on her bed, I had visions of laying her out on the mattress and getting her naked. I touched her hair, she touched my thigh, and then it was on.

But the way she’s acting now, not looking at me, all fluttery nervousness, I’m wondering if I read her wrong after all.

“Hey.” I touch her shoulder and she jumps, turning to finally look at me. The worry and guilt written all over her expressive face tugs at my heart. “Are you all right?”

She nods and rises to her feet so she’s standing in front of me, but she only reaches me about mid-chest. She’s so tiny. When I cupped her perfect ass in my hands just moments ago I realized just how small she is.

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice a little shaky. “I just—I don’t want Fable mad at me. Us.”

“She won’t be,” I say firmly. “They’re the ones who asked us to do this. How could we not get close after pretending to be a couple?”

“Yeah, but we’ve accelerated from zero to one hundred in about two-point-five seconds. What just happened felt crazy fast.”

“Too fast?” When she frowns I continue. “You don’t feel like I pushed you too hard, do you?”

“No, never.” Sydney shakes her head. “I’m the one who threw myself at you.”

“Not quite.” I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I’m agitated, my blood fiery hot as it pumps through my veins. What just happened—that kiss—blew my freaking mind.

This girl has come out of nowhere and rocked my world with a few choice words, a handful of touches and a kiss that’s making me reevaluate every other kiss I’ve ever experienced.

Which is fucking crazy, right? I just met this girl. I know nothing about her. Plus, she’s too young, and I’m too young, and I don’t want anything serious. This isn’t serious. Hell, it’s fake.

Fake.

Fake.

Fake.

Doesn’t feel like it, though. The energy radiating between us at this very moment is palpable. I need to get out of here. Need to go to Fable and make this right.

“I’m gonna talk to Fable and straighten everything out, all right?” I grab hold of Sydney’s arm, and it’s like my fingers catch on fire just from touching her. The girl affects me like no other. “You sure you okay?”

She nods, a hunk of damp hair falling in front of her face, and I’m tempted to tuck it behind her ear again. But I resist. Barely. “I’m fine.”

Giving in to my urges, I kiss her one more time. Just a brief peck on the lips, but damn if I didn’t feel that quick touch stir something deep inside my soul.

Ridiculous.

I flee her room before I do something stupid like kiss her again, and she doesn’t stop me. Good. I need some time alone just to reevaluate what happened. Even if it is only a few minutes walking down the stairs in search of Fable, at least I’m alone with my thoughts—my overloaded brain that’s filled with all sorts of crazy images. Images like me and Sydney together—for real.

As if I have time to try out this dating thing. My life is about to change completely, as long as everything unfolds as planned. I’ll be traveling constantly for away games. I’ll never be home because I’ll be working so hard. Practicing all the time. It’s not fair to ask a woman to stand by my side and deal with my hectic life. I need to remain single.

I think of Owen, who is definitely not single. I think of Drew, who’s been with Fable since he was twenty-one and has zero regrets. Hell, Owen’s been with Chelsea since he was nineteen. Were they always believers in love? Or did the women they met change their perspectives?

Fable’s in the kitchen cutting apple slices and she barely looks in my direction when I enter the room. “Want a snack?” she asks.

“No,” I say firmly. “Want to talk?”

She lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine. “Do you?”

“I do.” I take a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. “Should I apologize for what just happened?”

“Of course you don’t have to apologize,” she says. “I was just—taken aback at first. I had no idea you two were, uh, feeling that way. I thought what was happening with you guys was all phony, just as we planned.”

“It is fake,” I say, ignoring the skeptical look on Fable’s face. “I’m serious. We just got—carried away.”

“Uh huh. What were you doing in her room anyway, Wade?” A brow goes up and she sets the knife on the cutting board so she can cross her arms. I wouldn’t doubt for an instant she’s tapping her foot, too.

Ah damn, she sounds and looks like the Fable of old, who would constantly bust our balls and make Owen and I feel guilty for all the crazy shit we used to do. We deserved to feel that way because we were always up to no good, but we hated it so much when she ripped us a new one.

That’s because she was so damn good at it. Just like that, I’m back to being fourteen years old and I just got caught making out a little too heavily with Jessica Fairchild in Owen’s bedroom. On Owen’s bed, with my hand on Jessica’s right tit and Jessica trying to shove me off her when she spotted Fable fuming in the doorway. Fable busted me hard, ratted me out to my mom and everything. I was so pissed at her for weeks. Every one of those days I was grounded, I cursed her existence over and over again.