He's Not My Type by Quinn Meghan

Author:Quinn, Meghan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Meghan Quinn
Published: 2023-11-28T00:00:00+00:00

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?” I ask as I casually lean back on the couch, electrolyte drink in hand. Even though I’m not playing right now, I still adhere to no drinking before a game—or during for that matter in my situation. Blakely has asked me why I don’t drink a beer while watching the game, and I tell her because I wouldn’t be able to drink one during the game if I was playing. She thought it was funny.

That’s me, the fucking funny brother.

The funny brother drinking the electrolytes like a goddamn geek, wearing an Agitators shirt while trying to fixate on the tied game in front of me—rather than look at Blakely—because I might say something stupid like . . . do you want to go fuck?

Yup.

That’s what those stupid texts have done to me. They’ve made me think about fucking her way too much and now it’s in my brain, ready to be unleashed by my stupidity.

Another reason I’m not drinking any alcohol. Because one too many might lead me to say something stupid.

“Do you miss playing?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “Watching them and being unable to help is way more painful than this ankle injury.”

“Would you rather play injured?”

“Yeah.” I move my thumb over my jaw, and from the corner of my eye, I catch her watching the small movement. “But I know it would be stupid. If I played injured, it would hurt the team more than help them.”

“Because you could possibly reinjure it?”

Wow, this is the most she’s talked to me since the dress shop.

“That and because I wouldn’t be on top of my game. I’d probably be slow, and that’s not helpful to anyone.”

“Do you think you’ll be ready in a few days?”

“I hope so. Feeling pretty strong.” I rub my hands over my pants as the game goes to a commercial. “Thanks by the way, Blakely.”

“Thanks for what?”

“For all of the help you’ve given me. I know it probably hasn’t been easy moving your schedule around, but I appreciate you making the effort.”

“Of course. We created this mess together, so we’re fixing it together.”

Yup . . . friend-zoned.

That is such a friend response.

Nothing has felt more awful.

“So does this mean this is our last game together, Halsey?”

“It is,” I answer. “We should have celebrated.”

She’s about to respond when her phone dings with a text message. Trying to give her privacy, but also curious if it’s Penny looking for more information, I glance in her direction just in time to catch her face fall, her expression turning ghostly.

Uh-oh, that can’t be good.

“Hey, is everything okay?” I ask.

She looks up from her phone and shakes her head. “No. I just got a text from Perry.”

Perry as in the ex-boyfriend Perry?

What the hell does that fucker want?

If he’s asking her to take him back, I’m going to kick my leg right through my concrete wall.

Because fuck!

I’m trying to remain neutral despite the anger that shot right through my body. Muscles are tense. Jaw is clenched. Sphincter is tight.

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