“Oi.” The bearded one holds Ash back. “What business you want in there?”
Ash bravely removes the man’s hands from his chest. “My fucking sister, Emerson.”
He lets us go; his facial expression remaining impassive.
They’re sitting on stools in the corner: four of them to be exact. I recognized Harley, Poppy, and Kelly from the show. Emerson is sitting with them and no Wesley attached to her hip—for once.
Ash makes his way through the tight crowd, and I follow until we’re standing behind them. The first thing I notice is the grey turtleneck skin-tight dress she’s wearing that sits short and rides up as she crosses her legs. With the same knee-high boots she wore earlier, she’s looking extremely sexy with her hair messed to the side and giant silver hooped earrings to accessorize her plain-colored dress. She looks fucking amazing, and I quickly realize that the redhead with a pommy accent introduces herself and I’d been staring at Emerson all along.
“Name’s Poppy.” She overly grins. “You must be Logan ’cause you surely don’t look like Em’s twin brother.”
I smile confidently. “That’s this guy over here. I am definitely not her twin brother.”
Ash takes over the introductions, throwing in some jokes and making everyone laugh because that’s what he always did. We ordered a pint and it wasn’t long before Wesley, Farrah Beaumont, and another guy turn up.
As soon as Wesley sees me, his demeanor changes, barely saying hello and settling himself next to Emerson where he purposely places his arm around her as if he fucking owned her. I force myself not to stare; avoiding any eye contact with either of them or hell would break loose and my fists would be out and his blood would be all over the floor.
“Big game tomorrow, boys?” Harley, one of her co-stars, mentions.
“Sure is. Playing to get into the quarter finals.”
“What do you do to prep for a big game?” the other girl, Kelly, asks.
“We trained earlier today and should be in bed sleeping right now.”
They all laugh, everyone but Emerson and Wesley.
“Is it true that you can’t have sex before a game?” Farrah teases, rubbing her hand along my suit jacket and trying to entice me with her fake tits and equally fake pout.
In the corner of my eye, Emmy has adopted a sullen look. Staring directly at the both of us, watching every move. If I didn’t know better, she looked jealous. Could it be? Emerson Chase jealous because another woman touched my fucking arm and asked me about my sex life?
“Ask Ash,” I respond, smirking. “He’s the married one. I’m single so unless someone offers to jump in my bed tonight, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”
I continue to keep my gaze fixed on my glass that sits in front of me though desperate to see her reaction. Unlike her—falsely tied to Wesley for the purpose of the show—I was as single as you could get. I could fuck anyone I pleased and no one could say a goddamn thing.
Wesley raises his glass to his lips, keeping his persistent stare fixed on mine.
“Just make sure the woman you take isn’t spoken for,” he warns with menace. “Or man. Never actually seen you with a woman.”
“Oh,” I mouth with confidence. “The best type of pussy is the one that belongs to someone else.”
Ash rests his hand on my shoulder; his laughter barrelling through the conversation.
“I don’t think it’s a big deal but Logan won’t. Any chances of losing and he’ll minimize that. He likes his testosterone wild and pumped.”
Great. When did we switch to talking about my testosterone? Yeah, it was fucking pumped and desperate to ravage the girl sitting across me with the jealous stare.
We’re interrupted by a group of girls that recognized all of us and screamed so loud demanding a picture. We all huddle together and pose for her selfie which encouraged other patrons to come forward and request the same photo. After what felt like forever, the bodyguard steps in and tells everyone to back off.
“I’m over this,” Wesley snaps, drinking his beer and checking his watch. “Let’s get out of here. I’m bored. Wanna hit up a club, babe?”
Babe. I wonder what broken glass would feel like against his pretty-boy face?
“I’m tired, and jetlagged. You go.”
“I’m in,” Farrah pipes up. “C’mon Wes, let’s get out of here.”
Wesley removes his arm from Emerson who appears annoyed and frustrated. It’s clear by her reaction that the thought of him clubbing with Farrah Beaumont is not something she agreed with and that reaction alone left me bitter. When he leaves, I’m quick to direct my passive aggression towards her.