“I am so sorry.” I scrambled, trying to find something to help clean his bleeding nose. “People aren’t usually down here.”
“So you go around throwing open doors?” Bleeding Guy asked, eyeing me with a deep-set frown.
I nervously smiled back, trying to lighten the mood. “Sometimes it’s fun to pretend I have Herculean strength.”
He didn’t look amused, but his friend chuckled and said, “Doesn’t look like you need to pretend. I think you do.”
Celeste offered me my bag without making eye contact with the guys. Instinctively, I stepped in front of her. My mistake shouldn’t force her to interact with them.
I pulled out a baby wipe and handed it to him. “Here.”
The guy glanced at it before he turned his gaze to me. I stood my ground, trying my best not to be intimidated by his dark eyes. There was scarring on one side of his face. The skin had long ago healed, leaving soft, pink lines stretching across the pale skin. His jaw did that clenching thing guys do when they’re holding back or trying to hide something. My stomach flipped at the sight.
He was hot in an ‘I’m not sure why this look works for you, but damn it does’ way. I didn’t usually go for guys who don’t smile at least once in the first few minutes of interacting. So, it came as a surprise to me when the scowl he wore made him more appealing.
“Thanks.” Bleeding Guy’s friend was the one who took the wipe. “Sorry about my buddy. He’s not used to getting whacked by non-athletes. A bruise to the ego he’ll have to endure.”
Bleeding Guy snatched the wipe from his friend. “Shut up.”
“We should go,” Celeste whispered in my ear. Her voice was shaky. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“Again, my sincerest apologies, kind sir,” I spoke quickly and tugged Celeste forward. The guys blocking our path moved when I bulldozed through.
“Kind sir?” Bleeding Guy sounded confused. And maybe even offended? Huh. I suppose I’d get aggravated too if someone called me something I wasn’t.
“There’s a first aid kit at the end of this hall.” I pointed over his shoulder. “And if you want compensation for your injuries, please…take it up with management. Or, come by the concession stand after hours. I got a hookup.”
“I don’t need a hookup,” he said, voice matching his dark expression.
“Well…” My eyebrows raised at how his deep voice sent a wave of warmth through my body. He didn’t need a hookup, but my body was telling meIdid. “I suppose we’re done here.”
“We are.” He sounded so dismissive. As if he were a boss and I, his employee. Despite being surprised—and annoyed—I flashed another smile in his direction and waved. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“Unlikely,” he replied, gaze still cold and still locked on me. Seemed like the sweetness I put in my voice gave him a worse headache than the door.
His friend laughed and tried to smooth things over with, “We will. Thank you…”
The lull happened because he wanted a name. And not just mine. His gaze strayed to the still anxious and still avoiding eye contact, Celeste.
“You’re welcome,” I said, instead of giving him what he wanted.
I tugged Celeste after me, and we hurried down the hall.
“The big one was rude,” she mumbled once they were out of earshot.
“I’ll say,” I agreed with a shake of my head. “Those looks are wasted on that personality. Crying shame.”
Chapter Four
Finn
Thepaininmyspine dulled when I heard Chai’s cheery ‘hello.’ Her stream’s chat had already come to life with messages from her usual group of viewers. A handful of newbies was in the mix, so I welcomed them and highlighted the chat rules.
It was inconvenient to moderate the stream on my phone, but I’d do my best to make it work. The guys and I were supposed to spend the last week before school at Sam’s family cabin. A tradition, according to the three of them. I pretended to remember as they packed my van earlier. Unfortunately, my brain still failed to reboot memories labeled ‘tradition.’ I didn’t tell them that. The last time I confessed to not remembering something important, I received teary looks from my sisters.
No part of me was a people pleaser. At least, I didn’t feel like one post-accident. Still, I wanted to minimize those looks as much as possible. The easiest way to do that was to pretend like I remembered. Pretend like the amnesia resulting from the fight wasn’t as big as it actually was.
We were currently waiting in Henrik’s driveway—our last stop before we headed up the mountain—while he figured out which textbooks to bring for the trip. He wanted to get ahead for the semester and only I looked confused over his declaration.
