[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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"You were freaking out? About what?" I asked, shaking my head in bewilderment over this new revelation.
Tristan sighed and it was full of exhaustion and defeat. I wanted to go to him, to hug and comfort him, but in my current angry state, I was just as likely to strangle him. I also needed answers; my bruised ego demanded them.
"I don't know, Hannah... it's hard to explain."
"Try."
He finally let go of the windowsill and pivoted to face me. He had a pained expression on his face like he had a festering wound in his side and was unable to find a comfortable position. Crossing his massive arms, he leaned against the wooden edge and just studied me. Seconds drew out into long minutes as he appraised me. Finally, he spoke.
"You're dangerous for me."
What? That's it? I'm dangerous for him? My God, now I really wanted to strangle him.
My frustration welled up, and I shot him an irritated glare. "You're going to have to give me more than that, Tristan. I don't understand what you're getting at. How the fuck am I dangerous for you?"
The corner of his beautiful mouth tipped up at my anger. He tilted his head back, resting it against the top of the windowpane, and closed his eyes. "What I mean, babe, is that if I let myself care too much about you, you might become a permanent fixture in my life, and I'd want to keep you there. That means considering you in important life decisions. Like where I'm drafted."
If anything, he was the one worming his way into my life. Draining all of my sanity like a parasite.
My eyebrows knitted in puzzlement. "So... if you care about me, you think it'll cloud your judgment on decisions about your future?"
He shrugged, "Not necessarily cloud it, but it could influence my choices because I'd have to factor us into the equation. Right now, I've got a lot on my plate. Scouts are scrutinizing every move I make, and I need to start thinking about hiring an agent. After that? Who fucking knows. I don't have time for a girlfriend. For example, I might get drafted to New York, although that's the last fucking thing anyone would want. Anyway, New York's far from here, and my ties to you could mean that I don't go."
That made no fucking sense.
"You think I'd stop you from going? That I'd purposely get between you and your football career?"
"No, I know you're not that kind of person. I think I wouldn't want to go. And that's the problem."
"But you would still go," I insisted.
He sighed. "Probably. But I'd be miserable. And I don't like being miserable, not when I need to be focusing on my performance and showing my worth to the team. It could mess with my priorities, and lead me to make choices based on us rather than what's best for my career. It's a lot of pressure and distraction."
