Page 40 of In a Jam


Font Size:

Instead of responding to that, I leaned close to Shay as I watched Gennie ordering popcorn. She carefully counted out her money before slapping it on the counter like she was all in on a poker game. The kid helping her came around the cart to hand her the popcorn and I appreciated the hell out of him for that because she would’ve upended the bag trying to reach for it.

It was also a fine distraction from the very round, very plump ass in my lap right now.

“I would’ve helped,” she added.

The issue with this scheme of mine was that I didn’t need any help shutting down advances from Christiane. I hated running into her but I could handle it. That I’d thrown Shay in front of the problem had been a selfish response. A knee-jerk reaction though still a selfish one. And now I had my hands on her ass. There was no tidy way to unwind this.

Not that I was in any rush to separate my hands from her body.

“When did you start caring so much about other people?” I asked.

“Is that your way of telling me I was a bitch in high school?” she asked, still frowning and murmuring at the menu.

“That’s not what I meant,” I rushed to say. See? Ending this game of make-believe only required me to be myself. Another few minutes of me being awkward as fuck and she’d never want to speak to me again. “What I meant is, you’re helping Gennie, you jumped in to save me, you’re—”

“I know, I know,” she said with a laugh. “I was just teasing you. I had my self-absorbed moments. My shallow moments. I was a teenager who lived in a privileged bubble. I’m aware of that.” She stepped up to the truck to place her order and since I was in no way prepared to stop touching her, I stepped up too. “We’re going to try the barbeque chicken and…the vegetarian egg roll.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Does that work for you?”

I nodded and pressed my lips to the crown of her head. “I’m good with whatever you want.”

Gennie was busy watching the flag squad warm up while she alternated between chugging lemonade and cramming fistfuls of popcorn in her mouth.

I was free to remove my hands from Shay’s pockets any time now. Any time at all. Eventually, I would have to move. I couldn’t walk around the sports complex, grabbing her ass all night. And the time would come when this charade had to end. Even if I wanted to snatch her up and take her home with me tonight, that wasn’t the direction this was going.

It is never going that direction.

Obviously, I had to end this. I had to find a smooth way to put space between us and regain some semblance of control over this current predicament of mine. And do it all without tossing myself into a season of pain and misery.

All I had to do was figure out how to accomplish that.

Stepping back and shoving my hands in my pockets would work. It would be abrupt, yes, and she’d wonder what the hell was wrong with me. Nothing new there. I could also shift my hand to her lower back, maybe her elbow. Those were far less dangerous gestures than gripping her backside as if I meant to peel off these jeans and bend her over right here.

Christ almighty, I need these thoughts to leave me alone.

In the end, the choice made itself when Shay unzipped her purse.

“What are you doing?” I grabbed the card from her, shoved it back in the small bag at her hip. I hadn’t noticed the thin purple strap crossed over her torso until now. “There is no way I’m letting you—no. Put your money away.” I zipped the purse for her and then reached for my wallet, blindly passing some bills to the person watching this affair unfold from behind the counter. I thought I was finished. I’d put the matter down and pulled my hands from her pockets. Two birds and such. But I couldn’t stop myself from adding, “Not when you’re with me.”

She tipped her head to the side, regarding me with a slow stare. She’d done something to her eyes, a makeup thing, and she looked more feline than usual with a thick, dark line running over her lids and past the corners. “Noah Barden,” she breathed. “Get a load of you.”

The images blaring behind my eyes at those words were unreal—and mortifying. “Sorry, I—”

“Don’t you dare,” she interrupted. “Do not stand there and apologize.” She eyed me for a moment and this would’ve been a fine time for lightning to strike, aliens to arrive, the ground to open—whatever. Anything would be preferable to her studying me as if she could see straight through me and into the sweaty, skin-slapping visions that had overrun my mind from the second I touched her. “You’re damn good at this. You’ve almost fooled me, and I affectionately refer to myself as a dried-up husk of a human these days, so bravo. And don’t look now but your friend with the crazy eyes has a bit of steam blowing out of her ears. She just stomped off into the stadium.”

I accepted a paper basket with two foil-wrapped quesadillas from the food truck window. “Why are you a dried-up husk, Shay? What happened?”

She shook her head and waved away the question as she glanced at the nearby trucks. “Nothing important. You know how I exaggerate.”

Itwasimportant. Probably the most important piece of her showing up in this town after all these years. But I was not equipped to peel back those layers right now. It was all I could do to be this close to her and remind myself to breathe normally. I couldn’t ask the right questions. I couldn’t string the words together. Not tonight.

“You don’t exaggerate,” I said.

She lifted a shoulder, again dismissing the topic. “I’ve been known to overstate. The dried-up husk bit is an overstatement. I take my skincare too seriously for that.”

Gennie wandered back, her cheeks crammed with popcorn and her hand buried deep in the bag. The lemonade was long gone. “It’s time to go in,” she mumbled. “Come on, Shay. Need to get good seats.”

She took Shay’s hand and towed her toward the stadium. Shay glanced back at me, held out her free hand.

I’d never moved so fast in my life.