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“I’m sorry. Jarod’s a dipshit,” I apologized, but she stayed silent, only moving to cross her arms tight against her chest.
“Nice catch, by the way.” I gave her a compliment, a big one coming from me, and she just stood there and rolled her eyes. What was wrong with this woman? Most girls would hang-on to my every word.
“I’m Chase. I think I mentioned that earlier. Though, I didn’t catch your name back in class.” I opted not to reach for a handshake. Given the circumstance, she might have tried to bite it off. Maybe I should have…
“I know who you are. Chase Harrison All the girls over there know you too.” She nodded to a table full of girls wearing matching sorority t-shirts, pointing their boobs in my direction.
Something about this chick made me stop and question every word that came out of my mouth. What did I do that she already hated me so much?
“The only girl I want to talk to right now, is you. If rumors start that you’re a better wide receiver than me, I should at least know your name.” I let go of a big exhale. The air left my lungs like a weight coming off of my chest. Every conversation with this girl was the equivalent to diffusing a bomb.
I don’t have the training it takes to be on the bomb squad, nor do I have one of those big puffy white suits. If this bomb goes off, I’ll crumble and fall.
“Fine. My friends call me Grey.” She dropped her arms to her side. “Now. If you’ll excuse me, I’m running late for my next class.”
“But, you didn’t eat. Your sandwich is still in the wrapper,” I called to her backside as she started walking away.
She paused.
Food is the way to anyone’s heart. I bent down to pick up the sandwhich with my free hand.
“I bet it’s still warm. We can take it out on the quad. Less people and shit.” He tossed the football to his friend.
“And shit,” she chuckled. “Whatever. I swear to God if you say anything about football while I’m eating, I’ll put a hex on you.”
I wanted to ask if she really had magical witchy woo. If she did, and my question offended her, she’d probably make a voodoo doll of me and stick lots of pins and needles in my arms and legs. Nope! Not chancing my shot at a career with the NFL because of my big stupid mouth.
Chapter 9
Meghan
Chivalry at its finest, Chase held the door for me.
“Oh, look. A gentleman.” I smirked.
“Where?” He looked from left to right.
Birds chirped in the distance. We walked through the quad as if no time had passed between our years together in grade school and now. Years had flown by. Things were different now. He didn’t even know who I was, yet he walked so close.
Frustrated and happy, calm and excited–so many different emotions churned in my gut. Being next to him was easy and natural, but also astonishingly terrifying.
His hand grazed mine.
“Will that table work?” I followed him. After a moment of hesitation, he sat across from me. I wanted to ask why he paused. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed he would rather have sat beside me. I did, and he chose differently.
He fumbled around with a brown, tattered leather wallet. Busy hands and Chase were as common as socks and shoes or Oreos and milk. He never knew how to sit still. It drove our teachers bonkers that he liked to fidget with his pencil or his t-shirt. One time, he spun a ruler on the top of his scissors like the blade of a helicopter. Time froze when the ruler spun in the air and landed on Olivia’s head. I had to go to detention with him for laughing so hard. Dad laughed too when he found out what happened.
Life was good… once.
“What do you do in your free time?” He attempted to start a conversation.
“Free time? What’s that? My schedule is pretty crazy between school and working at Suzanne’s House of Coffee.” I took a bite of the chicken sandwich. Chase was right. It was still warm. In the future, I’d have to pack my lunches. Campus food was far from affordable.
“Oh! I go there all the time. Did you start working there recently?”
No, dumbass.
I crossed my legs to keep from kicking his shin. “No.”
