[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
*REWRITTEN*
°•°•°•°
Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despis...
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Hannah
My legs still felt weak as I bent over the bathroom sink.
Oh my God. Tristan fucking Beckett had just kissed me — gone down on me. And it had been one of the most incredible sexual experiences of my life.
I reached for the cold water tap, turning and turning until water finally started to trickle out in a weak stream. Cupping my hands, I waited until I had a handful to splash my face. It helped some, cooling my burning skin. Drying my face with a hand towel, I sat down on the toilet lid, relieving my trembling legs of my body weight.
I still couldn't believe what had just happened — what I had let happen.
As soon as I came to my senses and grasped the gravity of my actions, especially when I remembered the house full of people, I quickly made an excuse about needing the bathroom and practically bolted out of there.
It wasn't that I regretted what had just happened, but I felt overwhelmed and lost. I didn't know what to do or how to act anymore. We had never actually discussed things, so I was treading dangerous waters.
In my current state, my immediate instinct was to call Bailey. Because she'd know what to do in this situation, and she could tell me how to navigate the awkwardness that was bound to come up. But I couldn't because my stupid phone was still in my bedroom. And that was where he was.
After five minutes of sitting in silence and overanalyzing everything, my guilt forced me onto my feet, and I left the small bathroom. To my surprise, I found Penelope in front of my bedroom door, her right ear pressed against the wood as if listening for something. She was so focused that she didn't notice me approaching from the bathroom. If she'd come after I left, she wouldn't have heard anything, but the sight of her there still sent a wave of unease through me.
Had Amanda put her up to this?
"What are you doing?" I asked, folding my arms and surveying her with a suspicious frown.
Penelope jerked away from the door with a startled yelp, her round eyes betraying her panic as she realized she'd been caught. Her mouth opened and closed rapidly, searching for an excuse. "Uh... I-I was just seeing if you guys wanted a-anything? P-pizza just arrived."
Before I could answer, my door swung open to reveal a disheveled Tristan. His shirt was wrinkled from where I'd fisted it, his hair mussed from my earlier tugging, and his lips slightly swollen and red from our kisses and... other things. There was no mistaking what we'd been up to. The realization that Amanda would undoubtedly hear about this sent a surge of frustration through me, but I had no way to stop it.
Tristan's gaze cut to mine, looking for something, before he looked back down at Penelope — who stared up at him like a deer in headlights. His brow furrowed as he leaned against the doorframe, attempting to project a calm he clearly didn't feel. "Can we help you?"
