SOPHIE BROOKS:
Party, hook-up, hangover, repeat.
I don't do rules, responsibility, or monogamy.
So when the chance to sleep with the hottest Olympian swimmer in the country presents itself, you can be damn sure I take it.
And sneak out before he wa...
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"Suck it!"
I stop short at the loud exclamation from the living room of Davis's apartment. I peek my head inside and find that Saltz is now playing Fifa with Mitch.
There is something almost ironic about a group of elite swimmers competing against each other in a soccer video game on a Sunday afternoon. But this is rest and team-building all in one go.
Coach would be proud.
"Are you getting your ass kicked, Mitch?" I tease as I lean against the doorway, watching the small computer-generated figures race down a field, kicking the ball between them.
Mitch taps the controller forcefully and as a result, scores a goal before holding up his hand and giving me the finger.
"By a rookie? No way in hell," he laughs.
And then Saltz scores within thirty seconds.
"I might be a newbie in the pool, but I've been playing this since before your first Olympic appearance," Saltz comments, his eyes locked on the screen in front of him.
Davis catches my gaze and sends me a smile while shaking his head, just as my phone rings.
I glance down—unknown number.
I sigh, moving back into the hallway before answering. If this is another bogus agent with nothing but empty promises, I'm going to hit something. "Hello," I say, a slight edge to my tone.
"Jayden," a voice purrs in my ear. "Miss me?"
Holy hell... Sophie?
I think my brain short circuits from hearing that voice that I could recognize anywhere. My mouth is gaping open as I try to come up with an answer. "Trouble?"
"The one and only," she answers in a singsong voice, utterly oblivious to the multiple brain aneurysms I'm trying to fight off at the moment.
I close my eyes, attempting to regain any form of cognitive control. "To what do I owe the pleasure," I say with a much too relaxed tone, considering the malfunctions I seem to be experiencing in the upstairs control center.
"Hmm... Wouldn't you like to know," she says.
"How did you get my number?" I blurt suddenly.
"Oh, Jay." Her voice is dripping with mirth, and I don't even need to see her face to imagine the smirk covering her pretty, full lips and the twinkle lighting up her deep, dark eyes. "I have my ways. I've had this for weeks."
Weeks. So while she's been denying me her number, she's had mine all along. At that, a thought hits me because she just handed me her phone number on a silver platter, and if I know her at all, she didn't just do it for kicks.
