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Instead of backing off, he takes a step closer. “But I’d rather be talking to you.”
My heart is beating so hard now I feel it in my fingertips. I don’t know where to look or what to do. My gaze settles on the leather cord he wears around his strong neck. I’ve never seen him without it.
A small rectangle of polished wood hangs from the cord, dangling just below the hollow of his throat. My fingers itch to touch the pendant, to trace along the cord up to the stubble that starts just below his jaw. I lift my hand to do just that when a masculine shout snaps me out of it.
“Baylor!” Yet another one of his teammates seeking his attention. The freshman is still there, waving frantically.
“You’re obviously busy,” I say.
A frustrated breath escapes him. “What was I supposed to do? Tell her to get lost because I’m trying to impress another girl? Pretty counterproductive to act like an asshole, if you ask me.”
I get stuck on the whole, “impress another girl” part. In fact, the moment he said it, my heart stopped altogether, and heat rushed my face. Why me? I don’t fit in here; I never did.
My throat closes, and I swallow hard. “Sorry, but you’re paying attention to the wrong girl.” I edge toward the hall and freedom. “I’m not interested.”
A flush of color washes over his cheeks, and his eyes turn bronze. “Bullshit.”
When I flinch, his voice softens and slides through my defenses like a spoon into pudding.
“Let’s be honest here. I’m in danger of developing a permanent neck kink from checking you out. And if the number of times you meet my eyes is anything to go by, then you are as well.”
My cheeks must be flaming red by now. I’m too shocked to reply.
His low murmur rings crystal clear in the small space between us. “Why don’t you tell me what the real problem is, and we can address it?”
Address it. Like I’m something he wants to figure out and fix. Something he wants to keep. The whole idea is so foreign to me, and so terrifying, that I end up snapping. “Why don’t you just let it go? Some games you aren’t going to win.”
He scowls, but when he opens his mouth to reply, I talk over him. “Disappointment is good for the soul, Baylor. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
This time he doesn’t get a chance to stop me, or maybe he just lets me go. I head for the stairs, and some privacy, as fast as I can without actually running, and another friend approaches him. Which is all good. And maybe if I tell myself this enough, I’ll believe it.
Drew
That went well. Anna Jones’s gorgeous ass sways as she walks away from me. A perfect counterpoint to the swish of her little black skirt and the bounce of her red curls. I want to grab her and press her up against the nearest wall so that I can taste her tart mouth. I wouldn’t even mind if she bit me, as long as her tongue soothed it afterward. Fat chance of that.
I stay where I am, defeat and disappointment—yes, thank you, Miss Jones, I’m well aware of that emotion now—crashing into me like a bad hit.
“Shit.” I rub my ribs where the phantom pain spreads wide.
It’s even worse when I see Gray sauntering over.
Gray is my teammate and best friend. We met when we were fifteen and attending the Manning Passing Academy. We are both from Chicago, though from different areas, and had played against each other before but had never talked until then. When my parents died, Gray was the only one I could stomach being around because he had lost his mother to breast cancer the year before. Which means he knows me better than anyone alive. This is going to suck.
His grin is obnoxious and wide. “‘Crash and burn, huh, Mav?’”
I itch to punch the smile off his face. “I never should have introduced you to the glory that is Top Gun. You don’t deserve it.”
When he laughs, I roll my eyes. “How long have you been waiting to use that line on me?”
“About four and a half years, give or take.”
He slings a meaty arm around my shoulder and attempts to pull my head down. I duck away and slap the side of his head lightly. I’m not in the mood.
Not that Gray cares: he’s still grinning evilly.
“What’s the matter? Red didn’t respond to the ‘Battle’ cry?”
“Fuck off, Gray.” There isn’t much heat to my request. My mind is still on Anna, and my body is itching to follow.
