cursed the fact we were in a room filled with cameras. If we’d been someplace private, I would’ve given him a slap to go with Dean’s punch.
Gabe looked thoughtful for a moment before he winked. “I’m beginning to think it punched me in the face at the Gala.”
“You deserve every punch in the face you get,” I spat. “You fight dirty, Gabe, and you know it.”
I must’ve hit a nerve because he straightened up and snorted, his shoulders beginning to tense. I doubted he had the skill to win a fight cleanly, which is why he always danced a fine line between a win or a disqualification.
“Hell, what do I know?” he asked, backing away. “I just won the middleweight title.”
Of all the cocky, arrogant sons of bitches…
Searching for Dean, I found him trying to extract himself from an overzealous reporter, his expression full of unrestrained annoyance. As if he sensed my gaze on him, he glanced up and scanned the room. The moment our eyes met, I felt my anger fade away until it was less than a minuscule pixel-sized blip on my radar.
His lips quirked, and he made his away across the room toward me, carving a path through the pomp and chaos the AUFC created.
Standing before me, he sighed, giving away how tense he was. Right then, I wished I could raise my hand, cup his cheek, and press my lips against his.
“That guy is either stupid or likes the thrill of pissing me off,” he said, edging his body closer to mine.
“I dealt with him,” I replied, brushing my fingers against the back of his hand. “He’s just feeling cocky because of his win. That’s all.”
“Well he can cock right off,” Dean snarled as Lincoln walked into the room, followed by Coach Miller.
They took their seats behind the table, leaving a wide space between Linc and Gabe. It was going to be one hell of an interesting post-fight question time.
“How is he?” I asked, nodding toward the front of the room.
“Pissed. There was a second in it, Jo, and it’s his first loss. The first one is always hard.”
Spying Violet at the front of the room, I could see he wasn’t the only one who was tense. She looked as adrift at Lincoln did.
Those two were great together. So great, I was constantly jealous, even after I’d snagged my own twin. I felt old insecurities trying to resurface that I’d promised myself I would cast aside. I shook my head as if the motion would clear the fog in my own stupid head and show me the way.
“So,” Dean began, his eyes darkening. “You never answered me earlier.”
“Answered what?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant.
“Does the thought of being with me publicly make you feel sick?”
The thought of kissing Gabe O’Connell made me feel sick, but Dean would never find out if I had anything to do with it. If he knew I’d run off at the first sign of rejection and almost slid into bed with his arch rival, he’d drop me like a stone.
I didn’t want to stuff this thing up with Dean before it really had a chance to start. I wanted to love him, but I wasn’t sure if what I felt was the real deal. I’d need time to figure it out.
“No, it doesn’t,” I whispered to him as the crowd began to hush.
He didn’t look convinced. “Because I want to make a proper go of this, Jo.”
“This isn’t the place to talk about it,” I said as the press conference began.
“Then when is the right time?”
Glancing at the table up front, Gabe caught my gaze, rose his eyebrows, and then winked. He’d been watching us, his beady little eyes taking in our entire exchange as he sat waiting for the questioning to begin. He knew. Honestly, it wouldn’t take much if someone paid enough attention. The way Dean and I had danced and fought at the Gala, the moment where we disappeared, the part where Dean punched Gabe in the face…our miniature argument right now.
It wasn’t hard to see that something was going on.
I really did feel sick then, knowing we’d probably just given ourselves up to the man who had the ammunition to tear us apart.
As Gabe made a kissy face at me, I turned away, leaving Dean’s question hanging in the air. There was never going to be a right time to talk about our relationship, but we’d only been fooling around for a week. Seven