[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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Tristan
"I'm here to meet my parents. They should already have a table," I said to the hostess, who was bent over the podium at the restaurant's entrance.
She looked up, and her dark blue eyes widened when she saw me standing in front of her. A faint blush covered her cheeks as her gaze traveled down the length of my body before she quickly straightened and cleared her throat, gripping the sides of the podium like her life depended on it.
"Good morning," she greeted nervously, glancing down at the reservation list. "Do you know their table number?"
I tucked my hands into my pockets, looking past her to scan the dining area. "No, but I'll recognize them when I see them."
She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Alright, sir — follow me then."
Sir. I couldn't help but hear Hannah's laughter echoing in my ears. She'd probably milk that word for all it was worth, teasing me relentlessly until I toppled her onto the nearest available surface and kissed her senseless.
A sharp pang stabbed at my chest, stealing the air from my lungs and momentarily halting my steps. I had to force myself to shake it off and keep walking.
As I trailed behind the nervous girl who kept glancing back to make sure I was following her. My mind, however, was already back with Hannah. I wondered if she was awake yet, angry or relieved that I'd left. I mulled over whether to head back to her place after lunch with my parents, but something told me it might not be the best idea. I kinda got the impression that I'd caught her at a weak moment last night. Not to mention, she'd told me that last night was a one-time deal.
"Do you see them?"
The hostess's voice snapped me out of my musings, and I realized we'd arrived at the main dining area. Searching the room, I found my parents sitting on the open balcony. My Dad, towering over everyone else, sat quietly while Mom animatedly talked his ears off.
Today, my mother's dark hair was loose, hanging down her back in thick waves, a stark contrast against the white shirt with poofy sleeves that she wore. Despite being a mom of three — having my sister when she was nineteen, followed by my brother at twenty-two, and then me at twenty-four — she looked as youthful as ever, thanks to our family's active lifestyle.
I didn't need to point them out because my mom had already spotted me, waving enthusiastically as she stood up from her chair with a bright smile. Dad turned to follow her gaze, frowning as his eyes landed on me. I could feel the disapproval from across the room, and I knew it was because of my disappearing act last night and my fashionably late entrance this morning. Probably because of my game last night too.
Weaving through the tables, I noticed a few heads turning my way. No shocker there — I was pretty recognizable around these parts, even to the locals. I just hoped nobody decided to try and stop me for a quick chat or to ask for anything because I was not feeling up to it. But thankfully, no one tried anything.
