“I came back home to work at the police station, and you just broke up with your boyfriend. We went to school together and ran into each other, so we decided to catch up. Make it as close to the truth as possible.” Matthew shrugs nonchalantly, completely cool and collected. Meanwhile, I’m a freaking mess. “People have already seen us talking, so it shouldn’t be too surprising when we decide to go out on a date.”
Swallowing hard, I mutter under my breath, “I guess that makes sense.”
Kind of.
Hopefully.
Because otherwise we’ll be screwed.
“Does that mean you’re in?”
Blinking, I push down my panic, and his stoic face comes into focus. Completely under control, and yet, there is no missing a flash of uncertainty hiding in his gaze. Something about seeing that little slip in his mask makes me relax. If only slightly.
“I…” I take another moment to weigh my options. Not that there are many. “Yes.” The acceptance is barely louder than a whisper, but it feels like I just dropped a bomb. I wipe my sweaty palms against the sides of my legs as I seal my fate with his, linking them together. “But there have to be rules.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MATTHEW
Five years ago
I run my fingers through my hair for what feels like the hundredth time as I stare at the equation as if the answer will appear in my notebook on its own.
Yeah, right. Because that’s just my luck.
I itch to pull out a cigarette and light it up, but since that’s not an option, I tug at my strands, fighting the feeling of panic rising inside me again.
I can’t fuck this up.
I can’t lose football.
It’s the only fucking thing that keeps me grounded when I’m walking on the edge.
But I know there’s no way Coach will let me play. Not if I don’t get my grades up.
That leaves me with only one solution.
The solution I didn’t even want to think about.
Soft laughter has the hair at my nape prickling.
I look up, following the sound as I scan the space until my gaze lands on her.
My angel.
If somebody heard me, they’d have a good laugh at my expense, but to me that’s what she is.
A freaking angel.
I watch her as she whispers to her friends, all of them with books open in front of them. Today, her golden hair is tied in a thick braid that falls over one of her shoulders, but it’s like even in the dim library some of the light has found its way to reflect over it, making it shine brightly.
One of the girls hands her a notebook, her gaze taking in whatever is written down before turning it around and pointing something out.
That’s when it clicks.
Holy shit.
I’m such an idiot.
