“What?” Harper’s voice escalates. “We were in the middle of a conversation!”
“Sorry about that.” I don’t bother waiting for a response as I shove my way through the crowd to reach Sydney and her boyfriend.
Right as I catch up to them, she whips around to Ethan. “Oh my God, that’s not what I said! Why do you have to take everything so literally?”
Great.
They’re fighting.
Again.
I’ve seen them out enough times to know that these two are either going at it hot and heavy or are bickering like an old married couple. There’s no in-between with them.
It’s tempting to disappear through the crowd so I don’t get dragged into their argument—except I can’t walk away. I want to know where Demi is. If there’s a problem or something else happened with fuckwad, I want to know about it. I’d be more than happy to have another convo with Justin.
Using my fists.
I’ve heard all the shit going around campus. I have zero doubts it’s originating from him. Someone needs to shut him up before he does anymore damage.
“Hey,” I say loudly, cutting into their conversation before it can escalate any further.
With their mouths open, they swing toward me.
“Oh, hey,” Sydney says.
Ethan grumbles something about grabbing a drink before stalking away. A mixture of sadness and irritation fills Sydney’s eyes as he takes off.
I clear my throat, drawing her attention to me. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Is it that obvious?” Her voice softens, turning almost pensive. “Have you ever liked someone and kept trying to make it work, but you couldn’t do it? It was like trying to shove a square peg into a round hole? It just didn’t fit?”
I glance at Ethan as he grins at a few fellow baseball players. The tension filling his expression has already dissolved.
If Sydney is looking for romantic advice, she’s come to the wrong person. I pull something out of my ass and hope it’s helpful. “Can’t say that I have. I guess you’ll know it’s time to walk away when the bad outweighs the good.”
She contemplates my nugget of wisdom. “Yeah, I suppose that’s something to consider.” Then she blinks, and all of the emotion filling her gaze disappears as if it had never been there in the first place. “Sorry. It’s Friday night, and here I am, getting all maudlin. Must have already had one too many drinks.” With a tilt of her head, her attention zeros in on me. “So...what can I do for you?” A sly expression morphs over her features. “As if I didn’t already know.”
My guess is that Sydney realizes exactly where my interest lies. But still...I’m not about to confirm or deny my feelings. Not yet, anyway. “Just wondering where your trusty sidekick is.”
The humor falls away as she glares around the room. “She decided to go home for the weekend. These assholes are giving her hell.”
Home?
I’m pretty sure Coach is away on a recruiting trip, which means Demi is there alone.
“Is she all right?” It pisses me off that she felt the need to escape from campus because of it. Sydney nailed it on the head when she said these people were assholes.
A good number of them are.
“She’s hurt and embarrassed by all the rumors.” Anger flashes across her face. “I’d like nothing better than to kick Justin’s ass.”
From everything I know about Sydney, that’s not an idle threat. Justin better hope he doesn’t run into her this weekend. It could be detrimental to his health.
“If it makes you feel better, I rearranged his nose last Saturday.”
Her lips reluctantly hitch at the corners. “Yeah, I heard all about it. Too bad you didn’t inflict more damage.”
Before I can ask any further questions, her eyes narrow as she gives me a shrewd look. “Exactly what are your intentions with my girl?”
“Just being a concerned friend.” Even though it’s probably too late, I glance away and try to play it cool. “Is that such a crime?”
“Friends?” She steps closer before driving a finger into my chest. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” There’s a pause. “I think you like her.”
I roll my eyes and try to make light of her suspicions. “What? Are we in middle school now? You want to know if I like her or like-like her?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” A knowing look settles across her face as she pats my cheek none-to-gently. “Don’t be ridiculous. I think you like-like her. I was just curious if you had enough balls to admit it.”
Sydney’s got enough on her plate with Ethan. She doesn’t need to worry about me. “Maybe you should—”
“Well, well, well...look who it is. Just the girl I was hoping to see.”
My voice trails off as Brayden sidles up beside us. He’s got eyes for one person, and it isn’t me. Sydney straightens to her full height which is still nine or ten inches shorter than Bray. The teasing expression vanishes from her face. Whatever information gathering mission she had been on is now forgotten.
My gaze flickers to my teammate as I assess the situation. His attention is solely focused on the blonde.
Hmmm. Interesting.
“Great,” she snaps. “Just who I was hoping not to run into.”
His smiles stretches into a full-on grin as if her less than enthusiastic greeting is exactly what he was hoping for. He makes a show of glancing around. “What? No boyfriend tonight?”
Her cheeks pinken. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s here.”
“You run him off already?”
She gnashes her teeth before baring them like a rabid animal. “He went to grab a drink. He’ll be back any minute. What’s it to you?”
Brayden shrugs before closing the distance between them. “If you were my girl, I sure as shit wouldn’t leave you to your own devices.”
“Fortunately, I’m not your girl,” she fires back.
“Never say never.”
“Are you totally delusional?” Her eyes flare wide. “There is no way in hell that I would ever be,” she uses air quotes, “your girl!”
My surprised gaze flickers from one to the other as the tension rachets up between them. It’s almost enough to choke on.
What the hell is going on here?
As interested as I am to see how this interaction plays out, now seems like the perfect time to slip away undetected. I suspect a bomb could go off and neither of them would notice.
Not bothering to say goodbye, I take off through the crowd, pushing my way toward the front door. I’m not sure what Brayden is up to. I’ve known the guy since training camp of freshman year. Sydney isn’t his usual type of girl. He’s used to jersey chasers and cleat sniffers who hang all over him and stroke his ego.
Sydney is the complete opposite of that. She’ll chew him up and spit him out if he’s not careful.
18
Demi
The doorbell chimes, and I pause the movie before jumping off the couch and grabbing the money from the credenza by the front door. Looks like the pizza has arrived. Thank God, I’m starving. Dad doesn’t keep a lot of snacks stocked in the pantry, which is exactly why I ordered a large pepperoni with extra cheese. There should be enough left over to get me through the weekend. Most of the time, I try to eat healthy. But after the week I’ve had, that’s been thrown out the window. Tonight, I’m going to eat my feelings. One slice at a time.
Thank you very much, Justin and Annica.
My belly rumbles in anticipation as I yank open the front door, ready to hand over the money in exchange for some ooey-gooey deliciousness. Hands down, One Hell of a Pizza is my favorite restaurant. It’s New York style with huge floppy pieces.
The more I think about it, the more my mouth waters.
Except...it’s not the pizza delivery guy I find waiting on the other side of the threshold. It’s the blond football player who has been occupying way too much of my thoughts lately.
“What are you doing here?” The question
shoots out of my mouth before I can rein it in again.
His lips twist. “And a good evening to you, too.”
“Sorry.” Heat singes my cheeks as I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “You’re not who I was expecting.”
“Oh?” His brows slowly crawl up his forehead as his expression turns harsh. It disappears before I have a chance to decipher exactly what it means. “And just who were you expecting?”
“Pizza,” I offer in the way of clarification. Not that I owe him any. But still...the sudden tension crackling in the air feels stifling.
I hug the edge of the door as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It’s almost painful to admit how good he looks in the navy T-shirt that hugs the swells of his biceps and molds perfectly to his chest.
Focus, Demi!
Right.
I shove those distracting thoughts from my brain before they can cause anymore mischief. “You didn’t answer my question.” I pause for a beat. “Why are you here?”
He shrugs as his voice softens. “You’ve had a crap week, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh.” That’s the second time he’s made a point of checking on me. Even though I want to stay strong, everything inside me melts. “How did you know I was here?”
“I ran into Sydney at a party, and she filled me in.” Silence descends as we cautiously watch one another. He clears his throat and shifts his weight. “So, you gonna let me in?”
That doesn’t necessarily seem like the best idea. This has been an odd week, and everything in me is still raw and churning. Under normal circumstances, I have no problem keeping Rowan at a safe distance, both mentally and physically. But our relationship has recently shifted in unexpected ways. I think about our talk at the stadium and when we worked together at the library. The emotions he'd roused had left me feeling strange and uncomfortable. What I need is for my relationship with Rowan to shift back to what it’s always been—little more than strangers who are forced to interact upon occasion.
Before I can voice a decision, a hunk of junk with muffler issues rolls to a stop in front of the house. It backfires before the engine dies, and a plume of smoke belches from the tailpipe.
Holy crap. How the hell did that clunker pass emissions?
Rowan turns, and we watch a kid who can’t be more than sixteen years old jump out of the car and sprint to the passenger seat before pulling out a red carrying case and jogging across the front lawn.
“Hi! I’m here to deliver a pizza to—” he glances at the order form before looking at us. His eyes widen. “Hey! You’re Rowan Michaels, QB for the Wildcats!”
Rowan’s lips lift. “Guilty.”
“Wow!” The kid pulls off his red ball cap with the One Hell of a Pizza logo on it before plowing a hand through his ginger-colored mane. “I was at the game last weekend, and you were so awesome! I couldn’t believe you threw that eighty-yard pass right to Brayden Kendricks!”
“Thanks. We all had a great game.”
“You had a great game, Michaels.” The pimply faced kid stares at Rowan in a worshipful manner, as if totally starstruck. It’s kind of amusing. But then again, I’m famished, so not really.
When the delivery guy continues to stare in awe, Rowan clears his throat before digging around in his front pocket. “How much do I owe you for the pizza?”
“No, I got it.” I offer up the twenty I grabbed off the credenza. “Here you go.”
The kid shakes his head. “No way, Michaels! The pizza is on me.” He steps closer and lowers his voice as if he’s divulging state secrets. “Free pizza is one of the few perks this crap job has.”
Even though the guy hasn’t bothered to look at me since he realized he was in the company of Wildcat greatness, I push the money toward him. “I insist on paying.”
“No can do, it’s on me.” The kid shakes his head. “No one is going to believe I bought Rowan Michaels a pizza!” His eyes pop wide again. “Hey! Can I take a selfie with you?”
“Um, I don’t think—”
“Sure you can!” I step forward and grab the insulated bag from the kid before unzipping it and sliding out the box from within.
“Awesome!” the delivery guy gushes.
Rowan shoots me a pleading look, which I promptly ignore before stepping inside the house with my large pepperoni pizza and slamming the door closed. That’s what he gets for showing up on my doorstep unannounced and sending my hormones into further chaos.
Five minutes later, I’ve got a plate and have opened the box on the dining room table. I’m about to lift a massive piece of deliciousness to my mouth when the front door swings open, and Rowan steps inside.
He glances around until his narrowed gaze lands on me before jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Thanks for leaving me out there. I barely escaped with my life intact.” When I say nothing in response, he continues. “Do you know that he wanted to take me to the restaurant so I could meet the gang?”
I can almost imagine the kid pleading with Rowan to come back with him. My shoulders shake with silent laughter.
“It’s not funny!” he grunts with a scowl.
“It kind of is.” Actually, there’s no kind of about it. It’s funny. There hasn’t been much to laugh about this week, and that definitely does the trick.
He spears a finger at the open box. “I hope you appreciate that pizza. I feel dirty right now. Kind of like I prostituted myself.”
“I tried to pay,” I say with a shrug. “He wouldn’t accept it.”
“The least you could do is offer me a slice.”
I wave my hand toward the kitchen. “Be my guest. You know where the plates are.” Rowan probably knows the set up of this house as well as I do. He’s certainly been here enough times.
He takes one step toward the kitchen before grinding to a halt. With more interest, his gaze slides over the length of me. It’s a physical caress I feel straight down to my bones. Only then, do I become aware of my fashion choices for the evening. Since I wasn’t expecting company, I’m wearing tiny pajama shorts and an oversized Wildcats jersey.
Minus a bra.
Did I mention that Rowan’s name is stamped across the back?
“Huh.” The frown he had been wearing morphs into a smirk. “Nice shirt.”
A bolt of heat hits my cheeks. I could kick myself for giving in to the urge when I came across the jersey stuffed in my dresser drawer. “Don’t read anything into it. Dad gave it to me a while ago. He mentioned something about there being a lot of extras they needed to get rid of.”
“Is that so?” With a grin, he strokes his fingers over the sexy five o’clock shadow that lines his jaw. For a moment, I get caught up in the movement. “Usually, the campus bookstore can’t keep my jersey stocked on the shelves.”
I shrug, feeling very much like a groupie with a Rowan Michaels crush. This guy already has a massive ego. The last thing I want to be accused of is stroking it.
“Looks good on you.” His voice drops, strumming something deep inside as heat fills his eyes.
There is no way I’m touching that comment with a ten-foot pole.
When I remain silent, he disappears into the kitchen, presumably to grab a plate and something to drink. An army of butterflies wing their way to life in the pit of my belly as I migrate to the couch, settling at the far end to give him enough room in case he decides to bypass the armchair. Instead, he takes a seat directly next to me, barely leaving a few inches of space to separate us. I’m ridiculously aware of his muscular body next to mine. Even though I try to tamp down the sparks of attraction shooting through me, they flare to life like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
He points to the big screen television mounted over the fireplace. “What are we watching?”
We?
When did this situation turn into a we?
“A psychological thriller that came out last summer.” I clear my throat and stare at the frozen screen. “You, ah, don’t have to sta
y.” My gaze flicks to his. “I’m fine. I just needed to get away from campus for a bit.”
“I don’t mind hanging out.” He shrugs as his gaze collides with mine. “Plus, I could use a breather. It would be kind of nice to chill for the evening.”
I gnaw my lower lip with indecision. The two of us spending more time alone together sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. All of my usual defenses have been beaten down, which has left me feeling unusually vulnerable where Rowan is concerned.
When I remain silent, his voice drops. “No one knows I’m here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Those butterflies now feel more like an uncontrollable horde trying to fight their way out by any means necessary.
Is that my concern?
That people might find out we’re spending time together? It would only feed the rumors and speculation already running rampant. And yet, I’m strangely torn. There is something comforting about his presence.
“Demi?”
The scrape of his voice jostles me from the internal struggle being waged within. “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Carefully he searches my face. “If you want me to take off, I will.”
Even though I’m confused, I shake my head. All we’re going to do is eat pizza and watch a movie. What could possibly go wrong?
It’s probably best not to answer that question.
In no time at all, we polish off the pizza. Apparently, Rowan is as hungry as I am. While he runs the plates to the kitchen, I restart the movie. It takes about fifteen minutes to lose myself in the plot and forget about the handsome football player sitting next to me. When he shifts, slinging an arm across the back of the couch, I don’t pay much attention to it. My focus remains on the screen. My muscles coil when the violins of the musical score grow more pronounced. I shutter my eyes before peeking through the cracks between my fingers.
Something’s about to—
I yelp when the villain jumps out.
“How did you not see that coming?” Rowan chuckles, stroking my shoulder with his fingers.
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