“He’s not really a kid anymore.” His tone is flat and uninviting, but if the guy notices, he doesn’t act like it.
“He rocked that quarterback,” the guy continues.
That brings a small smile to Memphis’ lips. “He did.” I watch as the girl dips her shoulder to get past a few people as she approaches, but the thing that catches me off guard is she’s heading toward me.
I play it cool, just kind of glancing at the guys talking to Memphis and watching for a spot to open up so I can be on my way to the bathroom. “Hey,” she says quietly.
I do a double take, making it clear I’m wondering why she would speak to me. “Hey?” I respond.
Memphis stops mid-sentence and looks over at me, but I pretend not to notice, and he continues his conversation.
“You in line?” She motions to the food line a few seconds later.
“No, I’m waiting to get through. I think the end is back there.” I tip my head to the left.
“Oh, I don’t want to get in line.” She curls her lip in a little scowl, acting like even the thought of eating here is abhorrent while angling herself closer.
I don’t understand what she’s doing, but I react to her by scooting to the side a little, and that’s when she slips right next to Memphis. I just got played. I could admire her slickness if it didn’t bother me so much.
“Hey, Memphis,” she says sweetly while reaching up to lay a hand on his bicep. He shifts back the moment she touches him, shucking her fingers from his arm. It reminds me of when Mia mentioned he didn’t like people in his space or touching him, yet he’s always touching me and it never seems to bother him when I touch him. That probably shouldn’t make me so happy, but it does.
“Makayla,” he replies coolly, and I see my chance to slip away as the crowd shifts.
I swing my leg forward and say, “Excuse me, just passing through,” in case the group not paying attention thinks I’m trying to cut in line. My movement spurs them to move forward after I’m past, so the small gap is eaten up again by bodies.
Thankfully, the bathroom is nearby and I’m able to make it the rest of the way uninterrupted, but I still have to wait in a short line.
Using a public bathroom should be an Olympic sport when on crutches. I hover as best as I can while using one foot and making sure I don’t pee on myself or my shorts. When I’m done washing my hands, I take a couple Tylenol from my bag and swallow them down. I have a nasty headache brewing.
“Waylynn,” Memphis snaps, and my back goes ramrod straight before I look over my shoulder. He’s barreling toward me with his lips pinched in a thin line.Oh no.“Don’t move.”
I stay right where I am, only a few steps from the exit. Thankfully, the line to get into the restroom has shortened, and there’s not nearly as many people around to witness this. He steps up behind me. I can hear him breathing heavily, and I still don’t move.
“You left when you knew I wanted to come with you,” he accuses.
“You were busy with your friends. I just went to go pee.” His hand snakes around my hip and his fingers curl into me.
“They are not my friends, and even if they were, I don’t care.”
I let my eyes roam around. We probably look pretty silly standing in the middle of the walkway the way we are. “Memphis, we should go back to our seats.”
His fingers flex, tightening before he releases me and steps back enough that he can come to my side instead of being behind me. “Next time,” he grates out near my ear, sending a tingle down my spine with his warm breath, “you will tell me before you leave.”
“Yes, sir,” I agree automatically, proving he has some power over my baser brain. My face feels warm, and my nipples are tingling. I look down at the ground, hoping nobody else can tell.
“Looks like you found her,” the girl from earlier says with an air of suspicion and accusation in her tone.
When I look up, her eyes are narrowed on me, and I know my cheeks are still red, since the heat is actually traveling down my neck now. I probably look like a tomato.
Memphis huffs, and it stirs my hair. My heart starts beating really fast. There’s no pretending he wasn’t just whispering in my ear.
“Do you need something?” he asks her, barely moving away from me. I can still feel his chest pressed up against my arm.
Makayla eyes us. I know she’s taking note of the fact that he’s touching me, because that’s where her stare stays focused. “I’m sure Oz would be grateful to know you’re taking such good care of his girlfriend.” Her words come out like a threat, one that thankfully doesn’t scare me. The only thing she could do that scares me is get Memphis in trouble with the school.
“He knows exactly how well I take care of her, but be sure to remind him next time you see him. Let’s go, sweetness.” He puts a scant amount of pressure on me with his chest to get going, and I swing my legs forward on the crutch in a rush to get away from her and create a little distance between myself and Memphis, but I don’t think it matters at this point. His insinuation was clear.
There are warring emotions in my stomach as I reach our section. I’m half prideful excitement because Memphis called me sweetness in front of her and touched me, but the other half is worried about the repercussions.
