Page 91 of Colliding with Ten

He moved to look at me. “How’s your knee?”

I sat up, and he followed, giving us space. I glanced down and flexed my leg. The ache was still there, but had dulled. “It’s a bit better.”

His mouth quirked, nodding. “Yeah?”

I nodded. We shared a moment, looking at each other.

“I should probably—” he started, thumbing towards the door.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve got a flight back to Cali in a few hours.”

“Right. And I need to get home before my brother sends out a search party.”

He chuckled. “He’ll probably come looking for me after.”

“And he will have backup.”

He smiled again and then stood. Could this be more awkward?

“I’ll, uh.” He gestured toward his room. “Give you space to get ready.”

“Yeah,” I said, already reaching for my things. “That sounds good.”

We both hesitated. He nodded and disappeared into his room. My heart flipped like it had last night. I’d kissed Lennox Monroe. Kissed him. And I wanted to do it again.

What was I thinking? I should be figuring out my future, not getting caught up in this man. This very attractive . . . no . . .no . . .no . . .

I was finally moving toward something real. Sports medicine was still a fragile dream, and letting someone in now would make me focus on a person rather than building a life that gave me autonomy. In the past, I agreed with my father to keep the peace or changed my actions to make AJ worry less. Now I wanted to know what life looked like with me at the center.

I pressed my palm to my face and exhaled into it.

What are you doing, Ayla?

The only answer came as a flutter in my chest. My body flopped back onto the couch in a sprawl.

An hour and a half later, I found him in the lobby. His hair was still damp, and his hoodie hung halfway over his head. He stood by the doors, holding two coffees, shifting his weight until he saw me, and then he beamed.

He held out one of the cups. “I remember how you take it.”

“You do?” I said, aware of the people around us.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging it off. “Almond milk, light and sweet.”

I smiled. He got it right. When I took the cup, my fingers brushed his. “Thank you. You’re my hero.”

He looked even happier. We stood side by side, sipping and aware of the space between us.

“So,” I said. “Great couch.”

He snorted. “World-class.”

I chuckled.

“Ayla.” His serious tone made my stomach tighten. Was this goodbye? I wasn’t sure I was ready. I braced myself.

He slipped his hand in his pocket, then pulled it out again, unsure. “If I call you when I get back to Cali . . . will you answer?”