Page 62 of Revenge Puck

His eyes flicker to the shower stalls.

Back to me.

Away to the equipment manager’s office.

A slow, humorless smile pulls at my mouth. “That’s all the answer I need.”

He drags a hand down his face. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It’s never like that,” I say. “It’s always a misunderstanding. A weak moment. Too much to drink. Mercury was in retrograde.”

“Bishop—”

“You didn’t just screw my girlfriend,” I cut in quietly. “You screwed our friendship.”

He shuffles on his feet, wringing the towel in his hands. “It’s not like you and I were that close.”

“No?”

Guilt crosses his brows. “I didn’t mean?—”

“Naw man, it’s cool,” I cut in. “When I went to your place because I was worried about you, I didn’t realize you couldn’t give a shit about me.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and ugly as our teammates buzz around us, going about their business, oblivious to the tension.

“I never meant for it to get that far with her,” Declan admits, finally looking ashamed.

“And yet it did,” I say. “Funny how that works when you can’t keep your dick in your pants.” I inhale a deep breath. “Well. I have to go watch film, but do me a favor, would you? Tell Bailey to save her battery. I blocked her this afternoon and, if you were smart, you would too. Some advice? The way you get them is the way you lose them.”

She’ll cheat on him, too. Go after a bigger prize with a bigger wallet and a bigger cock.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles. But there’s no heat behind it; the fight is slowly leaving his body, replaced by shame.

“Fuckme? Already been done,” I say mildly, shooting him my winningest smile. “Sleep good tonight.”

I don’t wait for his reply.

Pushing through the locker-room door, I let it swing shut behind me, cutting the noise as cold air from the hallway blasts me.

I check my phone.

Juliette: I’m kind of nervous now.

Aaron: Don’t be. I don’t bite.

Hard.

ELEVEN

JULIETTE

I cannot believe I’m doing this.

Alone in the elevator, my neck tilts as I watch the numbers go up for every floor I pass, a countdown to my private humiliation.

Twenty-eight.

Thirty.