The Player Hater (Accidentally in Love 1)

“You live with intention? What does that even mean?”

“Yes, I mean what I do, and do what I say I’m going to do. I don’t talk just to hear the sound of my own voice. Conflict isn’t necessary and can be avoided. I…” He clears his throat. “When I say and do things, they are for a purpose. I’m trying to make the world a better place. So what if my face cleans up good and I’m okay to look at when I’m wearing a dress shirt? Is that going to help anyone?”

I’m doing everything I can to keep my mouth from dropping open and falling on the damn ground.

I want to grab his hand and drag him out of the campground and have my way with him, or is that this baby bit of alcohol talking?

“Look, if you meet enough pretty people and discover they’re only pretty on the outside, it doesn’t take long to learn none of that shit matters. Not that I don’t appreciate a beautiful woman because I do—you’re gorgeous—”

My stomach flutters.

“—but beauty doesn’t make someone faithful. Or a loyal friend. Or a good mother.” His lips purse; he resembles an old woman who’s tasted a lemon. “So I’m tall, big whoop and sure, I have big muscles.” He flexes his bicep. “And so what if I speak three different languages fluently?”

My brows shoot into my hairline. “You can?”

“Oui.”

Oh brother, this guy.

I choke back a giggle. “Is that your dating profile bio? It’s very wordy.”

He glances at me again, irritated. “I was being sincere.”

“I’m sorry—I don’t know why that made me uncomfortable because you’re one hundred percent correct. I guess I’m just very…surprised. And taken aback by you.” I fiddle with the can in my hands, pulling at the pop top. “I came on this trip prepared to not like you, or Thad, and you’re both perfectly agreeable.”

“Perfectly agreeable?” He scoffs. “Come on, Juliet, you’re an English teacher, surely you can do better than that.”

I smile, catching my lower lip between my teeth. “Fine, Thad is agreeable—he’s not awful, I can tolerate him.”

“And me? Am I tolerable?”

He knows he is, the brat. “You’re…nice.”

For a heartbeat, neither of us say a word.

Then.

“You did not just call me nice!” he booms with a laugh, leaning to snatch up the s’mores making utensils, loading the stick with more marshmallows—four—and holding it above the fire. “Nice. Never in my fucking life has anyone called me nice,” he grumbles with a laugh. “I made you dessert! I tucked you in bed! I held your hair back!”

“So nice,” I tease.

“Buddy, are you hearing this? Juliet thinks I’m nice.”

Thad nods. “You are nice.”

“Yeah but…” He leans closer to the fire, its embers burning low, a sure signal that the evening will soon be coming to an end.

Closer still.

“Shit!” Davis screeches. “Damn, that burns!”

He remains crouched, nursing his mallows and his butt hurt feelings and my stomach dances knowing he’ll share the sweet treats with me.

“Bro, you scream like a gi—”

Thad stops talking when Davis turns, rising to his full height before plopping back down in his chair.

Davis stops plucking at the charred marshmallows. “What?”

“Bro.” Thad points in his face, sticking his finger on Davis’s forehead.

It gets swatted away. “Dude, stop touching me.”

Oh lord. Lordy, lordy, lordy.

I chug the rest of my drink, swallow and wipe my mouth before saying, “Davis, I don’t know how to delicately put this, so I’m just going to give it to you straight. Your eye—”

“Your fucking eyebrow is gone, Halbrook!” Thad shouts. “Fucking. Gone.”

Davis laughs as if Thad were telling a hilarious joke, pulling the end marshmallow off his stick and holding it for me to take.

“Want some?”

“Um,” I stutter, willing myself not to laugh. “Um. Your, um…”

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Thad slaps him merrily on the back. “You singed your fucking eyebrow off, bro! How drunk are you?”

Davis shakes his head vigorously in protest. “No I did not.”

“You did.” He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his phone, thrusting it in his friend’s direction. “Look.”

Thad holds the camera app open so Davis is able to get a good, long look at himself: two eyes, one nose, one mouth.

One eyebrow.

“No.” He feels around his face with the tip of his fingers. “What the fuck! I’m not drunk at all!”

Thad cracks up. “You look so stupid right now, man. Holy shit, let me get a picture of this.”

“Shut up, asshole!”

“I’m not the moron who burnt off his facial hair.” He reaches up again to run his fingers along Davis’s face, but a quick swipe of the hand knocks it away.

“Stop touching me! Just stop.”

In her chair, Mia is hiding her laugh, face buried in a hooded sweatshirt she’s holding in her arms, shoulders shaking.

“Can I please take your picture?” Thad has the balls to ask.