Page 31 of Scoring Lessons

He brought the beer to his lips to hide his cocky smirk. “The truth can be a bitch sometimes.”

“God,” I groaned. “You are infuriating. What was I even thinking?”

He blinked once. But I didn’t miss the mirth he was trying to hold back. “You were obviously thinking I’m the best player you’ve ever met.”

“That’s not the flex you think it is.” I scrunched my nose. “You sound like you’re proud of being a manwhore.”

“If you think insulting me is going to get you all the training you’re so desperate for, you have another thing coming.” He leveled me with a dry look.

“Okay, now, hold on.” I pointed one finger at him as I huffed a laugh. “I am not desperate.”

His laugh made his shoulders shake. “Whatever you say, Livvie girl.” The tone of his voice was like gravel, barely a rasp.

I should have told him I hated the new nickname, but there was something about the combination of the two words and the way it rolled off his tongue that had my cheeks heating and my legs trembling.

And that was a real problem.

NINE

WESLEY

WHAT HAPPENED TO…HELLO? HOW ARE YOU?

After training camp ended and the new roster was officially announced, I skipped the shower altogether and changed in record time so no one could corner me. Something I was sure to regret if anyone got anywhere near me, as I practically ran to my car. But making someone faint by my death smell was a better option than facing my teammates.

As soon as I hopped in my car, my phone started vibrating with nonstop texts from multiple people.

Anderson

Hey, man. You left pretty quickly. I’m here if you need to talk.

Donovan

We’re doing an impromptu team dinner at my house. See you there?

Morgan

Hey, man. Where are you?

Owens

I told the guys not to text you because you probably need some time, but they didn’t listen, and they also forced me.

Parker

Want to ditch team dinner and go out tonight? Just us. No wingman shit tonight. Promise.

I erased the notifications, not even bothering to reply. I had little energy to pretend everything was okay after being officially moved to the second line. The excuse was that they wanted someone with enough offensive experience to hone the skills of the rookie with whom I was going to share the line, and in their eyes, they thought I was a perfect fit.

It sounded great in theory, except…there still wasn’t a contract extension on the table.

And Patrick fucking Sullivan took my spot. His smug face and the way he looked at me like he had a higher ground were enough to send me over the edge.

Michael (Agent)

I have good news. Call me.

Anticipation squeezed every bit of air out of my lungs. My hands trembled as my thumb hovered over my agent’s contact page.