“What look?” I ask, not bothering to hide my puzzled expression.
Thomas frowns until Luke raises an eyebrow, and he laughs, a silent conversation seemingly taking place before Thomas concedes. “Right. Okay. I’ll see if I can cover for you. But I make no promises.”
What?“I’m confused by what’s happening, but thanks?” My voice rises but I ignore it. For all I know, this is a perk to being a part of that damn group chat. But if it is…am I going to have to repay the favor to Luke one day?
I question it for all of two seconds before deciding I don’t care and throwing my bag over my shoulder to leave. After pushing the door open, I squeeze through the crowd hovering in the halls, refusing to make eye contact.
They know I’m an ass; my behavior won’t come as a shock to them.
I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but something deep inside me is screaming at me to find Blair.
Her being here feels like more than just a coincidence, and I’ve always been a “fuck it” kind of guy.
Up until a couple of months ago she lived in another state. Her boyfriend played in another conference. Yet today, my first game back, she’s here, in the crowd,watching me.
She may not have been outwardly cheering me on, but on the few occasions I glanced her way, she was always staring back at me.
Throwing my cap on, I keep my head low and move through the supporters, ignoring my name when it’s occasionally called, and it’s not until I reach LA’s locker rooms that I finally pause.
My pulse races as my gaze flits from brunette to brunette, searching. But no one even comes close to Blair’s understated beauty until…
My breath catches.
There she is.
Alone.
With her back resting casually against the wall, a memory attacks me of the many times she waited around for Cade—for me—looking like the goddess she always was.
Only this time, she’s waiting for someone else.
Forhim.
My stomach drops as my heart catches up with reality. She still looks the same, so it’s easy to forget how much time has passed. At least until I focus on the unfortunate addition of that hideous jersey.
Talk about a knife to the gut. I’ve experienced the agony of a stab wound, and yet,thisis more excruciating.
Thank God I can’t see her back, because if I saw that dick’s name printed there, I might be forced to rip it clear off her chest.
What is she thinking?Morgan? FuckingNathan? Really? She had to choosehim.
I let out a sigh as I watch her, drinking her in, getting my fill since this could be the last time I ever see her. Although, I thought the same thing when I left her standing on her porch back in Jacksonville.
A loose hair falls to her cheek and my palm flexes, itching to brush it behind her ear. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since I last saw her, and I’d take any excuse to touch her again.
A familiar pull tugs at my chest, and my mouth tingles at the memory of my lips first caressing hers. The first time I let myself consider her in a different light—as her own woman rather than my best friend’s little sister. The girl I’d known since she was a kid.
She’s as perfect now as she was back then.
And just like that, I’m sucked back into her orbit.
She’s like an addiction I never knew I had, and it’s only after I’ve taken a hit that I realize how dangerous it is.
My chest aches from the hole I thought time had well and truly mended, and when she smiles to herself, all rational thought exits my brain.
I should walk away.
God knows that a better man would.
