“Okay, can you not do that?” I ask.
He drops my hand immediately, lifting his own in a show of surrender. “My bad. I just …” He adopts a sheepish expression. “I wanted you to know, I’m glad we ran into each other today. Literally and figuratively.” He drops his hands and a slow smile spreads across his face.”You’re not like other girls, Kasey. It’s refreshing.”
Oh.
“Thanks. I, uh, I’m glad we ran into each other too.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. You’re not that bad, but don’t let it go to your head. I've only agreed to coffee," I remind him, and the next thing I know, he closes the distance between us, reclaiming my hand anyway as he brings it to his mouth, gently pressing his lips to my knuckles.
His eyes flick up, holding my gaze, and a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and takes a step back. “See you around,friend.”
“Yep.” I turn and make a beeline for the doors, not sure what to think of that, when for the second time today I crash into another warm body, this time hard enough that I stumble back a few steps and fall flat on my butt.
“Seriously!”
A warm chuckle has me looking up to find Dominique’s amused stare locked on me. Not who I wanted to run into right now.
EIGHTY-FOUR
Kasey
“Where’s the fire?” he asks, peering down at me like the brooding asshole I know him to be.
I open my mouth to snap at him for being a jerk and letting me fall, because I know he did it on purpose. Dominique’s reflexes are lightning fast, so there is zero doubt in my mind he could have prevented my fall if he’d wanted to. But before I snap at him, his gaze shifts past me to the doors, a frown marring his face and a flash of anger ignites in his eyes.
I turn, but no one is there. I wonder if he saw me talking to Deacon. If he did, does he care? Probably not. But then why would he be angry?
I shove myself to my feet, dusting my hands on the back of my jeans. “Thanks for the save,” I mock.
His attention turns back to me. “Why were you walking with Hunt?” he asks, his gaze probing.
“Who?”
“Hunt?” At my blank look he huffs. “Deacon Hunt. The guy you were talking to on your way over here. Why were you talking to him?”
“Am I not supposed to?” I ask, not bothering to answer his question as I head to my next class. I have ten minutes before it starts, but I’d rather Dominique think I don’t have time to talk at the moment. Instead of dropping it, though, he falls into step beside me, his long strides eating through the distance and instinctively making me speed up until I realize what I’m doing and force myself to slow down.
“He’s on the team,” he says and his frown deepens. He slows down once he sees I’m no longer beside him.
“Why is that a problem? You, Roman, and Emilio are all on the team too.”
We walk in silence together for several minutes before he finally says, “It’s not the same.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m sorry. How exactly is it different?”
He glowers down at me, but I refuse to be affected.
“You know what jocks are like. They’re not better in college than they were in high school. They’re worse.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m well aware. I have three guy friends who are damn near football gods with a well-established reputation for being man-whoring assholes. Luckily, two met the girls of their dreams and have since been reformed, the third...” I make a show of thinking it over, tapping my finger against my lower lip. “The third is still up to his asshole man-whoring ways. It’s sad, actually. He’s a bit of a lost cause.”
Dominique’s gaze sharpens. “I’m not a man-whore.”
I snort. “At least you don’t deny you’re an asshole.”
His teeth grind together. I struck a nerve with that one.
