Page 28 of Scoring Destiny

I’m drawn to her no matter how many times I tell myself it’s better this way.

To make matters worse, she doesn’t even acknowledge me even though she gets up and gives Blaze a hug, like they’re best friends or something.

“Did you see the reel I sent you this morning?” she asks him.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I nearly dropped the dumbbell I was holding when I read it.”

She laughs. “I figured you’d get a kick out of it.”

They’re texting each other?

I swear to God, if they start dating, I’m telling Simon I refuse to live with a guy who pretended to be gay to get sympathy. It would really piss me off to discover he lied about something so monumental.

Glancing over at where he and Maya are now cracking up about something, I feel a sharp flash of annoyance. She’s made it clear she’s not interested so I need to snap the fuck out of whatever it is I’m feeling.

“You look like you’re going to punch someone in the face,” Simon murmurs after the waitress takes our drink orders.

“What are you talking about?” I growl.

“Your fists are literally clenched in your lap.”

I look down and sure enough—my hands are balled into fists. Slowly, I unclench them, trying to shake off whatever this is.

“Just ask her out already,” Simon murmurs. “Get it out of your system, one way or another.”

“I did,” I mumble.

“She said no?”

I nod grudgingly.

He grimaces. “Ouch. Okay, then, time to move on.” He looks around the restaurant. “Our waitress is pretty hot.”

She is.

The problem is that I’m not even a little bit interested.

What the hell is up with that?

This woman has gotten under my skin, and I’m going to have to figure out why I’m feeling this way.

I look over at her, and she’s smiling, all her attention focused on Blaze.

And I get pissed off all over again.

It’s like she’s got me under some kind of spell.

I wait patiently for a break in their conversation, and then I lean over, giving her a friendly smile. “How’s it going, Maya?”

The smile she graces me with is polite. Reserved. Definitely not the one she gives Blaze or Serena. “I’m well. How about you?”

So polite it makes me want to scream.

“Gearing up for hockey to start,” I say.

“You start getting restless,” she says, as if she understands. “I’ve watched Reid get that way most of his life.”

“Yeah, I think we start jonesing for the game—the highs and the lows.”