Dating The Bad Boy Striker
Her perfectly manicured finger tapped fast across the screen, eyes darting, lips tightening with each swipe.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Her phone lit up with a flood of calls and messages. Notifications stacked like bricks. She answered none of them.
Leo leaned back, silent, sipping from his water like it was whiskey. His expression unreadable, but I could feel the tension coming off him in waves.
Sloane finally exhaled.
“Well, congratulations,” she said dryly, glaring at both of us. “You’re trending.”
“What?” I blinked.
She turned the screen to me.
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