Page 4 of Worth Every Game
Except, apparently, Elly Carter, who directs a look of pure animosity my way.
“Elly, hi.” Kate’s voice is a shock to my system. I’ve been so absorbed by Elly that I forgot she was there. Her greeting rings guilty, and even if Elly hadn’t heard us talking about her, Kate’s tone is a dead giveaway.
“Hey,” Elly replies, her voice hollow. It’s so different from how I’ve heard her with Kate in the past, all bubbly and vivacious.Is that my fault?
She shifts and I get a whiff of her scent. My gut tightens as I realise it’s as familiar to me as mine appears to be to her, and yet I hadn’t known it until this moment. All these years, andnowI notice?Bizarre. It’s fruity… like lemons and something else.What is that?Without thinking, I lean a tiny bit closer and inhale.
Elly’s eyes widen, and she draws back, staring at me like she wants to slit my throat.Shit. I must have really annoyed her because ordinarily she’d make some flirtatious comment or tease me. I’m not sure I like this version of her very much.
“Get what you wanted there?” Elly hisses at me.
I dare a grin and run my tongue over my top teeth, hoping she’ll stop that nasty scowl. “You smell like lemons.” When her expression doesn’t shift, I add, “Sour.”
Annoyance flashes in her bright blue eyes, then she looks past me to Kate. “What’s this about a party? Did you want to book me to perform?”
Wow. I’m stunned and mildly impressed that Elly’s addressing this head on.
Kate straightens in her seat. “Yeah, actually. Nico’s surprise party. What do you think?”
The pause that follows is a beat too long, and Elly appears to shrink as something like panic mars her face. It contorts her features for a microsecond, but it’s long enough to tell me what I need to know, validating every word I said earlier: Elly Carter doesn’t have the confidence to perform at an event like this.
She wipes her expression clean and straightens her shoulders. “I’d love to.”
Fuck me.
She holds herself upright, and I sense a further hardening of her muscles before she turns to me. “It didn’t sound like you thought it was a good idea.”
Is that a question?I consider holding my tongue, but the aggressive way she’s staring at me feels like an intimidation tactic. As if she’s asking if I have the balls to say it to her face.
Does she think I’m going to back down? Retract my statement? Pretend she’s better than she is? Out of what… politeness? Decency?I have to swallow the harsh laugh that claws at my throat. Elly might have the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, but I wouldn’t cushion my opinion for anyone else, so why should I do it now? “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re not qualified. Nico needs the best, and you aren’t it.”
She flinches. I expect her to lash out, but my comment appears to have landed somewhere deeper, and I feel the sting of regret.
Her eyes close slowly, like she’s holding back a surge of emotion, her breasts rising on a lengthy inhalation.
Why does she have to look so beautiful in her hopelessness? I feel like I swiped a kitten that was pretending to be a tiger, and the urge to apologise swells like a wave. I lock it down. She asked. I answered. If she can’t take it, that’s not my problem.
“Fuck, Jack,” Kate hisses at me, then shifts in her chair to focus on Elly. “He has no idea what he’s talking about. He’snever heard you sing, or seen you perform. When’s your next gig?”
Shit.
Elly’s eyes narrow as if she’s wondering if we’re playing a trick on her. “Tomorrow night. At the Marchmont Arms...” Her eyes flit to mine, and I sense she’s uncomfortable with whatever else she’s about to say. “In the basement.” Ah. Mylate-night basement singercomment comes back to me. “It’s after my bar shift. Not until eleven.”
“Great. We’ll be there. Won’t we, Jack?” Kate’s tone is clipped, as though this is all decided. “You just told me you have no plans this weekend.”
Damn it.The last thing I want to do is spend my night in a shitty dive bar. And then there’s Lydia too.“Actually…” I begin as Elly examines me. Her unrelenting stare is making my body heat like tarmac in summer. I grip my tie and tug on the knot. “There is—”
“He doesn’t want to come.” Elly cuts me off and her gaze slices past me to Kate. “I’m all for a bigger audience, but not when you have to drag them there kicking and screaming like a toddler having a tantrum. It kills the vibe.”
Tantrum?“I don’t kick and scream,” I counter.
“Oh no, of course not. My mistake. You’d never do that because you’reall man,” Elly teases, drawing out the last two words and rolling her eyes. “You’d just sit there and growl.”
Growl? What the actual fuck?“I bet you’d love that,” I say, smirking at her suggestively, which is definitely not the response she expected because a soft blush colours her cheeks and her eyes dart away from mine.
“Jack,” Kate reprimands, but I ignore her.
“And yeah,” I continue, staring at Elly, my tone much sharper now, “if I have to sit through a bunch of amateurs, I’d probably growl about it.”