Henrik shot Drew a death glare. He’d accept a reprimand for stealing Leila away again when they were alone, but not in front of Austin. He didn’t need Austin prying into his intentions. “I wanted to get out of the city for a while,” he lied.
He wanted to get Leila alone. He wanted to know what caused that vulnerable look in her eyes—that fear and uncertainty. Something was bothering her, and he needed to figure it out.
Austin’s face appeared above him. “My sister has a perfect shot. So, how did it accidentally find your nose?”
“You were shooting with those damn wooden sticks, weren’t you?” Drew guessed, giving him a you-should-have-known-better look.
“Yes,” Leila answered. “How did you know?”
He could hear Drew sigh somewhere next to him. “Henrik, you should know better than to take a city girl to play pond hockey.”
Leila huffed, insulted. “Says the guy who grew up in Charlotte? Ponds don’t even freeze down there.”
“We played on ponds in Sweden,” Drew shot back. “That’s all we had. It’s not like we could afford rink time except for what we got during practices.”
Henrik rose up to gawk at his brother. It wasn’t like Drew to mention their childhood, especially so casually. In fact, he hadn’t heard him mention it at all since their mother passed away. “You remember that?”
“Of course.” He looked down at his hands. “I remember everything about home.”
The room became exceedingly quiet, and noticing the conversation had gotten uncomfortably awkward, Austin spoke up. “Well, I’m calling the team doctor. He might want to look at your nose tonight.”
Forcing himself to look away from his brother, Henrik turned to Austin. “It’s after three in the morning.”
“You’re our star player,” Austin shot back. “Trust me, they’re going to want to know you’re over here looking like something that could walk out of Mordor.”
Austin left the room with the phone already to his ear.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you two leave together.” Drew sighed, squinting at him as if his nose were some ghastly creature that might bite him at any moment.
Leila gave him a half-hearted shove. “Like it’s your decision. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Anything involving the two of you always ends in some form of drama,” he mumbled. “And don’t think Austin is okay with your little hangout sessions. He’s been asking questions.”
Leila rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get more ice. You two can bicker among yourselves.”
When Leila left, Henrik shot Drew a look. “You can’t just give me a break?”
Drew crossed his arms over his chest. “You never take girls to the pond. That’s a family thing.”
“Leila is family.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my family.”
“Look who’s jealous now.” He smiled, leaning back on the bed. “I don’t understand why you’re mad about us being friends.”
“Friends,” he laughed. “You honestly think that is what’s going on right now? You two having a friendship?”
“Well—yeah.”
Drew made a face of genuine disbelief. “Make sure that doctor checks you for a concussion, because you’re crazier than I thought.”
When Leila returned, Drew was still in a huff. “I’m going home. It looks like you two have everything under control. I’ll check on you in the morning before I leave.”
“Leave?” Leila questioned. “You don’t work tomorrow.”
“I have somewhere I need to be,” he said offhandedly, rushing to the door. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
When he was out the door, Leila turned around, puzzled. “He’s being very—”
“Drewish.” He chuckled. “Trust me, you get used to it after a while.”
She climbed back on the bed, crossing her legs next to him. “Put this back on your nose. The swelling is getting worse.”
He flinched as the ice touched his skin, but he quickly recovered. She looked at him with that same adorable expression again. Like she cared about him too. “I like this side of you,” he commented, easing an inch closer to her.
“The guilt-ridden side?”
“No, more like the not-biting-my-head-off side. You’re actually kind of sweet when you want to be.”
She peered down at him, frowning. “Henrik, I still think this friends thing is a bad idea. It will never work.”
“But you’ll try. Right?”
She pursed her lips, and he braced himself, but then she nodded. “Yes, we can try to be friends. However, when I break your nose on purpose next time, I’m going to say I told you so.”
Austin walked back in, hanging up his phone. “Ice it all night, and he wants you there by seven tomorrow morning.”
Henrik groaned. “He’s going to make me miss the game. I just know it.”
“Either way, you have to let him examine it,” Leila informed him. “I’ll drive you.”
Panic immediately engulfed him, but not because she wanted to take care of him. That part actually made him excited. It’s what surely would result from her sweet gesture that scared him. “I appreciate the offer, Leila, but—”
“You’re going to let me,” she said, her voice stern as if she were talking to a child. “You can’t drive like this, and I’m not letting you take the subway. It’s my fault, so I’m taking you.”
“Again, Leila, I really appreciate your offer, but—”
Austin chuckled behind her. “He’s afraid you’ll tell them what really happened.”
Leila’s expression fell as she looked down at him. “Why wouldn’t you tell them what really happened?”
“We’re guys, Leila.” Austin was practically bursting at the seams trying to rein in his amusement. “What do you think is going to happen when they find out a girl broke his nose with a hockey puck? He’s never going to live it down.”
Her mouth dropped open and she let the ice slip off his face. “Is that really the reason?”
He shot her a weak smile because he knew he couldn’t lie his way out of it with Austin there. “They’re kind of ruthless about things like that,” he tried, mustering the most pathetic voice possible.
She shook her head, unsympathetic. “Be ready by six thirty.”
When he opened his mouth to refute, Austin laughed. “You might as well let her go. Because if she doesn’t tell them, I will.”
He shot his friend a dirty look, but Austin appeared too smug to care. He was enjoying himself.
Bastard.
Austin shrugged. “Next time, don’t sneak off with my sister.”
Under normal circumstances, he would have fought back. A snarky comment, or he might have even mustered up the courage for an inappropriate one. Not now. He couldn’t joke about the truth. That was just wrong.
He turned his attention back to Leila in hope of changing her mind. He could always blackmail Austin into cooperation later. He gave her a pleading look.
“You wanted to be friends,” Leila reminded, sticking the ice back to his nose, a little less gentle than she’d been previously.
He laid his head back against the pillow and sighed. “I know,” he groaned, already imagining the horrific nicknames in his head.
It would still be worth it.
Leila would always be worth it.
Chapter 16
HENRIK’S MOVE
Henrik made himself at home in Drew’s apartment the next morning. Of course, that was after listening to Drew lecture him about anything and everything under the sun, including the fact he’d brought breakfast with him. Apparently, providing Leila with food in any form or fashion was some kind of sin in this house.
It was just a couple bagels, for crying out loud.
Drew and Austin didn’t realize it, but he was finished following their rules. He’d allowed Austin to ruin his chances for a romantic relationship with Leila a long time ago, and he wasn’t about to let them ru
in their friendship, too.
Now that Drew was gone, his fruitless effort to make him wait in his own apartment failing, he found a comfy spot on the couch and dug into his bagels. He heard the shower turn on down the hall, so he knew Leila was awake. Her words continued to haunt him, though, along with the thousands of what ifs circulating through his mind.
What if he had ignored his best friend’s warning and pursued Leila anyway? He was only nineteen at the time, not exactly in the frame of mind for a serious relationship. Would she have made the difference, or would he have just broken her heart? Scenarios flooded his mind, but somehow they all rounded back to Leila in that damn shower.
The water kicked off before his thoughts finished, and he was thankful for the interruption. It was foolish to dwell on the past, and especially about things that could never happen. Or, at least, things that could never happen again. He took the last bite of his breakfast, standing to go grab a bottle of water, when he heard her voice boom down the hallway.
“Drew! You’re going to be late!”
She must have heard the television still on, he decided, but before he could alert her of his presence, she turned the corner. Her hair was wet and dripped down her bare shoulders as she clutched a barely there, navy towel around her. She sucked in a breath, her eyes rounding as she took in the vision of him standing before her. “You’re not Drew,” she stuttered, taking a step back and tightening her hold on the towel.
He swallowed. “Guilty.”
Eyes on her face. On. Her. Face.
His adrenaline kicked into overdrive, or maybe it was his tortured and abandoned libido. Either way, he could have cried.
Leila’s gaze darted around, unsure of what to do with herself. “What are you doing here this early? It’s not even six o’clock yet.”
A hundred different excuses and lies ran through his mind, but he decided against it. They were friends now, and that meant he could be honest. “Couldn’t sleep,” he explained while mentally shouting at himself for flinching when the slit in the towel suddenly revealed two more inches of thigh. “Obvious reasons.”
She watched him intently, and he wondered what she was thinking. So for good measure, he pointed at the plate of bagels sitting on the coffee table. “I also brought you breakfast.”
She peeked over the couch at the plate, and then frowned at him.
“What? You don’t like bagels?” The disappointment was evident in his voice, but he was too distracted to really care at the moment.
“Yes, bagels are fine. It’s just—” she paused, studying him for a moment before deciding whether or not she wanted to continue “—I was going to make you eggs when we got back.” She nervously tucked a strand of her wet curls behind her ear. “You know, to make you feel better because—” then she pointed to her nose and winced “—obvious reasons.”
He sighed. His nose looked gruesome. The swelling was much worse, stretching across his right cheekbone, up into his eye. Not to mention the unrelenting pain. However, a small bit of the constant, throbbing ache dulled at the thought of her wanting to make him feel-better eggs. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the thought.”
She smiled weakly at him. “How does it feel this morning?”
He could feel her scrutiny, and practically read the guilt on her face. “Fine. It doesn’t hurt at all,” he lied.
She shook her head at him, laughing. “You’re full of shit.”
“You’re right.” He grinned, touching it gently with the tips of his fingers. “But I’ll survive. Now come eat breakfast with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let me go put on some clothes first.”
“I don’t recall making that a stipulation.”
They smirked at each other, and his body relaxed.
It was real. They were actually friends now.
He couldn’t keep the constant grin off his face as he waited for her to come back, and he felt like a complete idiot for it. When had he ever been giddy over becoming friends with a girl?
Never. The thought was ridiculous.
He smiled anyway, unashamed and unfazed by the scrutiny of his own self-consciousness. When she returned, beautiful as ever, he noticed something different about her. It took him a moment to realize it was the hint of freckles sprayed across her cheeks. He’d never noticed them before.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, glancing over while she grabbed the plate of bagels. She dove into them as if she hadn’t eaten in days, and it made him smile.
“You have freckles,” he told her as if she didn’t know.
“I am a redhead,” she reminded him with a laugh. “It’s kind of a package deal.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “I’ve never noticed them before,” he explained.
“Well, normally, I wear more make-up, and it covers them. I usually don’t host company fresh out of the shower.”
“Your choice, not mine,” he said with a smirk.
She shook her head disapprovingly at him, but that was it. He was happy his harmless flirting no longer set off a hate-filled chain reaction that ended in them screaming at each other. It was progress. “I like your freckles,” he decided with certainty. “They’re endearing.”
She snorted. “You’re really laying it on thick this morning.”
Henrik shrugged, still unashamed. He eased closer to her on the couch. “I find these endearing as well.” He smiled, touching his finger lightly to her neck where the string of tattooed hearts trailed up behind her ear. He remembered those hearts, his tongue on them, his lips pressed against her smooth skin, and more importantly, the sigh it had elicited.
Her entire body went rigid, her hands clenched around the plate in her hand. “W-w-what are you doing?”
“What’s wrong? You look at mine all the time.”
She shot a sideways glare at him. “Once,” she barked. “I looked at them once.”
This time he snorted. “Sure, whatever you say.”
She eased away from his touch, her stern expression still visible. “What?” he asked again.
“You have to push the limits on everything. Don’t you?”
“I barely touched you.”
“That’s not the point, Henrik. You don’t touch friends like that.”
He cringed. At first he didn’t realize why. It was the word friend. He didn’t like the way she said it. Or rather, he didn’t like what it meant.
“Who made that rule?” he tried, fumbling around for a solution. “I touch my friends all the time.”
“I’m sure you run your hand seductively up the side of Austin’s neck every morning.”
He raised a curious brow. “You thought that was seductive?”
He honestly hadn’t been trying anything, but judging by the scowl she shot him, his innocent gesture had been taken out of context. “Sorry, I was just—” he began, but realized no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change anything. She was right. Friends didn’t touch friends like that. “I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on.”
“I didn’t say that,” she grumbled more to herself than him before stomping out of the room.
***
She was exceptionally quiet on the walk down to the parking garage, and Henrik knew her well enough to leave it alone. They were similar that way. Talking would only make it worse. “Keys?” she demanded, reaching her hand out.
He lobbed them over to her, but she paused, frozen in place as they hit her shoulder and fell to the ground. Henrik followed her gaze, and his stomach sank. Of all the mornings for a hot pink thong to be tied to his windshield wipers, it had to be today.
He groaned, stomping past her to quickly rip it off. He left her to throw it in the nearest trashcan, and when he returned, she hadn’t moved, not even an inch. He slowly picked up the keys and held them out to her.
She looked at him, her nose scrunched up. “Does that happen a lot?”
“More than you’d think,” he sighed. “It’s annoying.”
“Well, at least those looked new,” he added, turning toward the passenger side door.
He could see her gaping through the window. “You mean sometimes they’re not?”
He opened the door, laughing. “I keep rubber gloves in the dashboard.”
Her face was contorted when she finally opened the door and hopped in. She busied herself with the heater, her demeanor returning to normal. He didn’t know whether to be happy or concerned. A part of him wanted her to be mad about the panties, because it meant she cared.
She dramatically threw her hands in the air. “I give up. How do you work this space contraption?”
It took him a moment to realize she meant the car, which was odd because Austin had a G55 too, and she drove it all the time. That’s when he noticed the hint of red tinting her cheeks and her teeth tugging at her lip. She was flustered.
She did care.
He reached up and pushed the button she tried to find, sending the heat blasting out. “Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling out onto the street.
He leaned his head back against the seat and frowned. He’d officially made it five hours before screwing up, and even though that was a record for him and friendships with girls, he wasn’t satisfied. He would have to make it up to her somehow. Dinner? A gift? He’d have to ask Jiri, one of his few married teammates, for advice on an acceptable gift for a girl who was just a friend.
He cringed again.
Before he could contemplate it further, Leila’s phone started ringing. He shook his head mockingly at her as the “Backstreet’s Back” melody blared through the car. She knew he hated that boy band, and she smiled despite herself. It disappeared quickly, though. She took one quick glance at the screen, grunted, and threw it in the cup holder in disgust.
“I thought that look was only reserved for me. Who’s calling you this early?”
“No one of importance.”
Her posture stiffened, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were practically white. He knew that reaction. There was only one person who could elicit that much hatred. “Was that Derek?” He was almost in disbelief when he said it, but he could tell he was right. “He still calls you?”
The Girl With Hearts (Midtown Brotherhood #1) Page 12