Page 9 of Breakaway Hearts

“I said I don’t date,” I correct him.

His eyes go wide when he understands what I’m saying.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks, his voice husky. I would laugh if I wasn’t equally interested in wearing a lot less clothes with a lot less people around.

I should say no. I will say no. But I really don’t want to.

“Tonight’s not a good night,” I argue, but he can obviously tell I’m seconds away from caving. If he pushed the tiniest bit, I would…

“Can I have your number then?”

To say I’m surprised is an understatement. Disappointed even, but he has been nothing like I expected since he first bothered to ask about me as a human being rather than a hook up.

“I—”

“Hollywood!” someone yells from across the room, pointing right at Owen.

“Did you forget to mention your acting career?” I ask as the guy, who looks very much like a football player, makes his way through the crowd towards us.

I hate that my body subconsciously shifts to put Owen between me and the new arrivals. I hope he doesn’t notice my fear, but he suddenly looks embarrassed.

“They think it’s funny, because I’m from California.”

“And your dad was more present in my childhood than mine was,” the fridge of a man adds. “Felix Vale.”

I go stiff as he extends his hand, because he’s looking at me in a way that makes me feel naked. Not in a good way.

“I should really get going,” I tell Owen, knowing it’s rude, but my heart is beating fast, the memories are rushing back, and it will be a lot ruder if I have a panic attack. Or faint. The thought terrifies me as I look around for Christine and Angela, but they’re too busy flirting by the pool table.

“I’ll walk you out,” Owen offers.

I think he can tell something’s wrong, because the huskiness is gone from his voice, replaced with concern.

The football player too.

“No, my bad, I just wanted to say my brother’s trying out, and I heard you’re going to be captain, so…”

“So nepotism?” another player asks.

“No, he’s good. He just gets nervous.”

“I doubt anyone wants to give me that power, but I’ll do my best to take care of your brother,” Owen promises, then puts his hand on the low of my back to guide me to the door, but I’m frozen in place.

“You’re an athlete?” I ask before he can wonder what’s wrong.

“Wolves for the Wyn,” Owen agrees, getting whoops from the other guys. “I’m on the hockey team,” he adds when I don’t react in kind.

“You didn’t mention that.”

“Not to sound cocky, but I assumed you knew. And then I kind of liked wooing you without it.” He smiles, but I don’t return it. “What’s wrong?” he asks, creasing his brow.

“I don’t do athletes.” I swallow against the bile trying to come up. “Especially not hockey players.”

“That’s judging a book based solely on its genre,” he calls me on it, but he’s still teasing, until he reaches for my arm, and I flinch.

“Good luck at tryouts, Captain.”

I force a smile, then crush through a sea of bodies to leave the club.