[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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"I'm here to meet my parents. They should already have a table," I said to the girl bent over the podium at the restaurant's entrance.
She looked up, and her dark blue eyes widened when she saw me standing in front of her. A faint blush covered her cheeks as her gaze traveled down the length of my body before she quickly straightened up and cleared her throat, gripping the sides of the podium like her life depended on it.
"Good morning," she greeted nervously, glancing down to scan the list in front of her. "Do you know their table number?"
I tucked my hands into my pockets, looking past her to see if I could spot them. "No, but I'll recognize them when I see them."
She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Alright, sir — follow me then."
Sir. I couldn't help but hear Hannah's laughter echoing in my ears. She'd probably milk that word for all it was worth, teasing me relentlessly until I toppled her onto the nearest available surface and kissed her senseless.
A sharp pang stabbed at my chest, stealing the air from my lungs and momentarily halting my steps. I had to force myself to shake it off and keep walking.
As I trailed behind the nervous girl who kept glancing back to make sure I was following her, soon enough, I found my mind wandering back to Hannah. I wondered if she was awake now, whether she was angry or relieved that I was gone. I mulled over whether to head back to her place after lunch with my parents, but something told me it might not be the best idea. I kinda got the impression that I'd caught her at a weak moment last night. Not to mention, she'd told me that last night was a one-time deal.
"Do you see them?"
The hostess's voice snapped me out of my musings, and I realized we'd arrived at the main dining area. Searching the room, I found them sitting on the open balcony. My dad's height meant he towered over all of those seated around him, making it easier to spot him. My mom was animatedly talking his ears off while he listened silently, as was often the case.
Today, my mother's dark hair was loose, hanging down her back in thick waves, a stark contrast against the white shirt with poofy sleeves that she wore. Despite being a mom of three — having my sister when she was nineteen, followed by my brother at twenty-two, and then me at twenty-four — she didn't look it. Our entire family stayed active and relatively healthy, with the occasional cheat meal. Out of all three of us kids, I bore the most resemblance to her — my height and build came straight from my dad. As for my siblings, Caleb and Megan were basically carbon copies of him, with Megs being the spitting image in female form — tall, with dark eyes and straight hair.
I didn't need to point out where they were because Mom had already spotted me, waving enthusiastically as she stood up from her chair with a bright smile. Dad's head turned to follow her gaze, locking onto me, and he frowned. I could feel the disapproval from across the room, and I knew it was because of my disappearing act last night and my fashionably late entrance this morning. Probably because of my game last night too.
