“Same as every family weekend.” I nod, grateful that my family isn’t coming this year. It’s kind of pointless given that they live so close and I see them all the time. Though I guess Jackson may decide to tag along to hang out with Kai if nothing else. “Why?”
“What better way to put on a show than with an audience.”
“Okayyyy,” I draw out, hoping she gets to the point soon.
“Just wear something sexy and leave the rest to me.” She slips on her shoes and heads toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask, a little bewildered by her behavior.
“I have to see a friend about something. Just trust me. We’re going to make Macallan Stewart rue the day he ever let either of us get away.”
“And how are we going to do that?”
“You’ll see.” She tugs open the door, giving me a wave over her shoulder as she disappears into the hallway.
“What a strange girl,” I murmur to myself, trying to shake off the reminiscence of this day, which clings to my skin like a thin layer of dirt that I can’t wipe off no matter how hard I try.
Leaning over, I fish my phone out of my bag to text Char and Lyric, but completely forget about that the second I seemultiple text messages displayed on my lock screen. Every single one from Macallan.
“Really, asshole,” I say out loud, unlocking my phone before opening our text thread.
The first one had to have come through before I had even left the stadium.
Mac: I’m sorry for what I said.
Mac: I’m an asshole.
Mac: There’s no excuse.
Mac: Can we start over?
Mac: We have to work together. It would be nice if we could get along.
Mac: Can we meet tomorrow? Same time and place? I promise to be prepared.
Start over?
Seriously...
He knows even less about women than I thought.
Then again, at least he’s making an effort. A poor as shit effort, but one nonetheless. And if he’s big enough to extend the olive branch, the least I can do is reach out and take it. I don’t have to like him. But he’s right, we do have to work together. And if things go the way they went today, I don’t see us accomplishing much of anything, outside of maybe killing each other.
Me: Same time and place. Don’t be late.
I shoot off the message before opening my contacts and clicking on Charlotte’s name. If there’s anyone who can talk me down, it’s usually Lyric. But right now, I don’t want to be talked down. I want to vent. And there’s no better person than Char for such a task.
I’m sitting in the stands, in the exact same spot as yesterday, when Macallan exits onto the field from the locker room. I didn’t come as early today. As much as I enjoyed watching him on the field yesterday—which I would never admit to anyone, not even Char, who I spent nearly an hour venting to last night—I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing so a second time.
Instead, I’ve decided to follow Charlotte’s advice. Be neutral. Treat him the way I would any other lab partner I would have been assigned to. I like to think I’m mature enough to be capable of such a thing, but as I watch him climb the stairs toward me, I’m having some major doubts.
Like yesterday, his hair is still damp from the shower, little droplets of water peppering the shoulders of his white T-shirt that become visible only as he reaches me. The shirt is fitted, showing off his thick bicep muscles, broad shoulders, and chest. Partnered with black joggers and a pair of white sneakers, he looks every bit the gorgeous athlete that he is.
It shouldn’t catch me off guard as much as it does, and yet, I find myself momentarily taken by his beauty.
The trance immediately disappears the second he opens his mouth, and I’m grateful to be brought back to the land of reality.
“Five minutes to spare.” He grins, tapping his wrist before once again taking the seat to my right.
