The Trouble With Love

The two men were shaking hands like old friends. This was great. This was just fantastic.

Emma was tempted to storm back into her apartment, help herself to the open bottle of Merlot on her counter, and pretend that the best first date she’d been on in months wasn’t chatting it up with her ex.

But that would give Cassidy too much power.

Instead, she pivoted on the heel of her Louboutin boots and moved toward the two men.

“Emma, this is Alex Cassidy,” Benedict said, when she stepped up beside him. “I played soccer against this guy in college. I’d completely forgotten that Camille mentioned they were neighbors!”

“Did she now?” Emma murmured. Apparently Camille had managed to mention it to someone.

She felt Cassidy’s eyes on hers, but when she flicked her gaze toward him, his flicked away. Not before she saw that they were blue tonight. It had been a game they’d played back in the day. Aqua eyes, she’d called them. She’d been forever trying to figure out which she’d preferred: the days when they glowed green or the days when they burned blue.

“Where’d you go to college?” she asked Benedict.

“Duke. I was goalie at the same time Cassidy here was striker.”

“I’m surprised you two are on speaking terms after the game. The one that went to penalty kicks?”

Benedict glanced at her in surprise at her knowledge of collegiate sports, and she gave a sheepish shrug. “Go Tar Heels?”

“Holy shit,” he said, looking from her to Cassidy. “You both went to UNC? Did you know each other?”

“We did,” Emma said, before Cassidy could open his fat mouth and say something horrid.

“Wow, small world,” Benedict said.

You have no idea.

“Camille actually asked me if I thought you two would click,” Cassidy said, his expression all pleasantness.

“Yeah?” Benedict asked.

Cassidy’s smile was quick. “I told her absolutely.”

Emma rolled her eyes, just as Benedict rested a casual hand on her waist. “Well, guess I should thank you then.”

Cassidy grinned. “Call it me making amends for the way that last game played out.”

Benedict laughed. “Do you know how many times I’ve replayed that moment? I was so sure you were going to go right. There was only a flicker of doubt that maybe you’d go left….”

Emma knew how this story went. Knew Benedict had done what most keepers would have done.

But Cassidy had changed the rules. He hadn’t gone right. Or left. He’d aimed dead center, his kick securing UNC’s victory over one if its most bitter rivals.

Emma couldn’t believe she hadn’t placed Benedict as that poor goalie from that epic night. But then, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t recognized him.

Back then, she’d had eyes for only one guy.

Emma was spared more soccer talk by the arrival of a cab at the curb. The doorman at Camille’s building opened it, and Cassidy’s attention shifted.

A familiar brunette approached. Danielle.

Emma smiled reflexively as Alex’s girlfriend turned their awkward threesome into an unbearable foursome.

Cassidy’s hand found Danielle’s waist, mimicking the position of Benedict’s hand on Emma’s.

For the briefest of seconds, his gaze burned into Emma’s and she felt herself go hot, before going cold. Very, very cold.

She forced her gaze to Danielle, ready with a Nice to see you again greeting, but Danielle wasn’t looking at her.

Nor was she looking at Cassidy.

Her blue eyes were locked on Benedict, and she looked dazed.

“Danielle, you remember Emma?” Cassidy said.

“Sure, hi!” Danielle said, her voice a little sharp as she gave Emma a wide, false smile. Her gaze immediately went back to Benedict’s and then she glanced at the ground.

Puzzled, Emma looked at her date and saw that he, too, looked shell-shocked before seeming to recover.

“Benedict Wade,” he said, extending a hand toward Danielle.

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