[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
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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 despises. He's arr...
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"Hey, Tristan."
Skylar motioned to the seat beside her, red lips grinning hopefully as she looked at him. But instead of joining her, he went for the seat next to mine, the one my bag was on. He pulled the chair out, grabbed my bag, and stashed both bags on another chair before sitting down. Right next to me.
A subtle tension hung in the air as Skylar's lips pursed, her gaze darting between Tristan and me. She'd clearly wanted him to sit next to her, there was no way he could have missed that. Cassandra cleared her throat at the awkward atmosphere. I wrestled with my own emotions, suppressing the tiny spark of satisfaction that dared to race through me.
My body stiffened as his chair pivoted slightly towards me, our knees brushing against each other. I half-expected him to shift away, to put a stop to the contact, but he didn't. I frowned at the sight of our knees touching. If he wasn't going to pull away, then I should, right?
I didn't.
"How are we doing today, ladies?" Tristan drawled as he casually slung an arm over the back of my chair.
My fingers sought out the flash drive nestled within the zipper pocket of my hoodie, deliberately brushing aside his actions and tuning out the ongoing conversation between him and the girls. An unexpected jolt surged through me as my upper back brushed against the warmth of his forearm, that small touch sending a shiver down my back. I shifted my position ever so slightly to the right, resulting in the heel of his thumb resting against my shoulder. Before I could lean forward, his thumb stirred to life, tracing a gentle circle against the fabric of my hoodie.
Caught off guard, I sucked in a sharp breath, my startled gaze darting in his direction, but he was preoccupied with listening to Skylar. She recounted her week, something about basketball, and other details that I failed to catch.
As Skylar's words ebbed away into background noise, the world narrowed to that single point of contact — by the soft, rhythmic sweep of his thumb across my shoulder.
"Are you nervous for the game tomorrow?" Skyler's question broke my trance, and I looked up to see her resting her chin on her palm and beaming at Tristan.
Game? Tomorrow? Football, I recalled. His thumb's movements came to a halt, nearly burning a hole through the fabric of my clothing.
He shrugged, eyes becoming hooded as he threaded his fingers through his wavy hair. "Nah. We've got this in the bag. We always do."
My attention turned to him as I searched his face. Something in his tone made me think he didn't believe a word he was saying. Sky and Cassie didn't pick up on it, only joked and gave him words of encouragement, but I had caught that pause, that slight hesitation before he spoke. And the little hint of skepticism when he said they had it in the bag, like he thought they didn't. I couldn't help but wonder why he felt like that.
