3. Tatum

Tatum

Chapter three

We finally make it to the hotel, the snow creating absolute devastation to the streets. I'm surprised we made it alive, honestly. Between my severe want to strangle the smug asshole next to me and the fact the visibility was shot. But we made it, and I can't wait to get out of this car and into a hotel room.

"Are you going to forgive me?" he asks me one more time—he's been trying to apologize the whole drive here—and I simply roll my eyes while jumping out of the car and stomping toward the hotel lobby. Thank goodness there is a covered garage parking or I'd be stomping my way slowly in two-some feet of snow.

I hear him groan in annoyance as he proceeds to grab a bag out of his car. But I don't wait for him before I enter the hotel and march straight toward the receptionist desk and ask the lady at the desk for a room.

She types into her computer and an uneasy look crosses her face. I have my credit card and ID waiting and ready for her to grab from me, but she looks at me and sighs.

"I'm sorry, Miss. It seems we're full for the weekend." A sad smile forms on her thin lips, and I try my hardest not to blow up on her.

It's not her fault my day is turning shittier and shittier.

"Don't take her card! I'll pay for her room." I hear a familiar voice shout from the entry of the hotel.

The douchebag football player who drove me here saunters through the door and practically waves his card in the air, his duffle thrown over his shoulder and his skin…

I forgot for a moment that he was wearing hardly anything appropriate for snowy weather. Then again, neither am I considering I didn't really think it was going to happen. And he's a football player. He's probably all sweaty from his game and all of his thick, corded muscles can keep him warm enough in cold temperatures.

As he walks in, I'm able to see his diamond-shaped face in room lighting and not in the dark cab of his car, or just his side profile. His jawline chiseled to perfection, and I can see a small crook in his nose, probably having been broken once or twice in his career. How long has he been playing anyways?

I can also see his brown eyes, almost darker than mine. His arm flexes as he uses his hand to push back his already messy hair away from his forehead. The man is drop dead sexy. We don't have men who look like him on my football team. But also, I don't watch football because some of the players are hot. And some of them are…I just never noticed this one before.

Ugh, what am I thinking? I'm supposed to be pissed at him.

"What makes you think I'd let you pay for my room? Don't think I can afford one myself?" I try to be sassy, but really…I'm not a sassy girl at heart. I'm just really tired of men in general at this point.

"Just trying to do the right thing…" he stops right in front of me at the receptionist desk and peeks at the ID card in my hand, "Tatum." He drops his bag next to his feet and I grow even more irritated.

I shove my ID back into my wallet and look at the wall for a nearby outlet to charge my phone.

"I did give you a black eye, remember? Wanted to make up for that."

"Oh, so you think paying me off would do the trick? No thanks. Damage is already done, remember?" I give him a sarcastic look while pointing to my probably bruised face. "Besides, even if I did let you pay for my room, they're all sold out for the weekend." I turn to the receptionist who has been front seat to our entire bicker party, and I smile at her warily. She looks down at her desk as if she was busying herself with work and not listening to us argue.

I can see a puzzling look cross the offensive tackle's face, almost like he's worried.

"Don't worry, I'll figure it out. Nice meeting you."

"Atlas!" I hear a voice shout from the other side of the hotel lobby and we both look over to see a few of his teammates are headed this way.

One of them is the quarterback and the other is the kicker who threw him his touchdown ball. I try my best to retreat, figuring this is the perfect time for me to escape and figure out an exit plan. But just as I turn to go, one of them says, "So this is the girl you left to go pick up."

My eyes widen and confusion washes over me. "Left to go pick up?" I perk myself up and look into Atlas' eyes—assuming his friends were calling him by name a moment ago.

He focuses his brown-eyed gaze on me while his other teammate speaks up.

"Yeah, we took the team bus back here to the hotel but he left as soon as we arrived, said he saw an old friend stranded and wanted to help. Took the coach's rental car and everything. We just didn't know how pretty his old friend would be." The two men high-five each other.

"Stop," Atlas demands. "Don't you assholes have to get back to your rooms or something?" He gives them a very intent and stern glare, and both the men shut up promptly and turn to the elevators.

Part of me is shocked that he defended me, but also annoyed because there isn't really anything to defend. But then there's the fact that his teammate said he saw me from the bus and not that he drove past me and turned back.

"Don't pay any attention to them," he tells me before turning to the receptionist and giving her his name to check in. "And she can stay in my room," he adds after she gives him his key.

"Yes, Mr. King. Let me go grab another key."

"What? No. I don't think so. I'm good," I say to both of them. "Actually, do you happen to have a phone charger I can borrow for like five minutes?" I ask the woman and she looks between me and Mr. King confused about who she should listen to.

He leans down on the desk with his elbow and makes an effort to talk quietly.

"Tabitha," he reads her name tag," Be a doll and go grab that extra key, would ya?" He winks, and she does exactly as he says.

"You've got to be kidding me. You just flirt with her, and you get her to do anything you ask. Newsflash, I am not as willing and able as she is. So, thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I'll figure something else out."

"Come on, Tatum. It's a fucking shit show out there. You're never going to get an Uber right now and even if you did, where would you go?"

"Don't use my name like I really am some old friend of yours. You don't know me," I snap at him, feeling infuriated that he's right. I know I won't have anywhere to go right now. My plans changed when I was stood up and this freakshow of a weather bomb fell on us.

But I don't want to stay with him. I don't want to be near him. Not only did he almost break my nose, but the last thing I want right now is to be stuck in a room with a stranger I don't know.

"Here are your key cards, Mr. King. Let us know if you'll be needing anything throughout your stay." The receptionist says as she hands him an envelope. Then she smiles at him and walks to the back room.

Atlas picks up his bag and starts to head for the elevators, but after noticing that I'm not following him, he turns to me and says, "Come on, Rival. I may have caused you a minor injury, but I don't bite. It's just one night." He reaches his hand out holding one of the door keys.

I take a second to inhale. I know he's probably just trying to be nice and I know I should accept it but at the same time, I really just want to go home.

I look up at the man in front of me. I realize I'm probably being just as much of a pain in his ass as he is mine.

"Fuck it," I say as I walk past him, not even grabbing the key from his hand. As soon as the snow clears up, I'm out of here.