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She goes to his college. They share the same major. They share a lot of the same classes. Fairly certain he cheated on me with his new girlfriend, though he will deny it until the day he dies.
Whatever. I’m over it.
Mostly.
“You are moping. And it’s bringing me down,” Leon says, reaching over to pat my hand. I snatch it off the counter, turning my back to him and grabbing a pile of books that need to be put back on the shelves. “Avoiding me isn’t going to change things. You’re still miserable!”
He calls out the last sentence to me as I walk away, and as discreetly as possible, I give him the finger.
All Leon does is laugh in response. The jerk.
But he’s not really a jerk. He’s just concerned about me, and I love him for it. Mostly because, deep down, I know he’s speaking the truth. I’ve been especially cranky lately and I need to do something about it. I need to get out of this funk.
How though? I’m not ready to date. Not yet. I’m probably too independent. That’s what happens when you’re in a long-distance relationship for over two years. You don’t spend a lot of time with your significant other, and you learn how to be on your own.
I’m so on my own now, I can’t imagine tying myself to someone else. Just…
No, thank you.
I take my sweet time putting away the books, forcing Leon to take over ringing-up duties. With school starting, we’ve been so busy the last couple of weeks, but it’s finally begun to slow down, thank goodness. Despite my occasional grumbling, I really do love my job. I’ve been here for the last year, and I like being amongst the books and the school merchandise—we are the number-one seller of campus-themed merch, of course. Everyone comes here to purchase their Golden Eagle team gear to wear to football games.
I don’t even think I own a single T-shirt with the eagle blazed across it, though I do have a sweatshirt my parents bought me after I got my acceptance email. I still wear it on occasion, but I’ve definitely never worn it to a football game.
Because I don’t go to football games.
Ever.
Like I can’t seem to help myself, my thoughts drift to Bryan, and I wonder how he’s doing right now. He started college a week before I did and last I saw—after some sneaky social media sleuthing—he’s moved into an apartment off-campus with his precious new girlfriend Clara.
Of course he did.
I shove a book onto the shelf, a little more aggressively than necessary, and then turn and run straight into someone.
A very solid, extremely tall someone. It felt like I ran into a brick wall, I hit him so hard.
“Oh hey.” A deep, rumbling voice says as he reaches out, grabbing hold of my elbows, steadying me after the blow. “You okay? Sorry about that.”
My elbows tingle where the stranger is touching me, and I shake my head, trying to gather my bearings. “I’m fine.” I blink up at him, shock coursing through my blood when I realize who it is.
Knox Maguire himself stands directly in front of me, so close I can smell his cologne, his hands still lightly gripping my arms.
His brows are lowered in concern, his green eyes roaming over me, as if he’s checking to make sure I’m all right. “You sure? You ran right into me. You didn’t hear me say something?”
He said something to me? “Yeah, no. I didn’t know you were standing right there.” I try to take a step back, realizing he’s still got a hold on me, but then he releases my elbows, allowing me to gain some much-needed space. Standing so close to him is a little overwhelming, but I’m not exactly sure why. “I’m okay, though.”
“You promise?” He smiles.
Oh. Shit. He has a nice smile. Straight, white teeth. The faintest dimple denting his right cheek.
“You work here, right?” The smile evaporates, replaced by a no-nonsense expression and tone that tells me he needs some assistance. That’s the only reason he said anything to me. Not because he thinks I’m cute or wants to flirt with me, but because I work here.
Not that I want him to think I’m cute. Or want him to flirt with me. Nope. Not interested. Not. At All.
Nodding, I attempt a smile, trying not to act rattled, though that’s exactly how I feel.
Shaken. To my very core.
Remember how athletes kind of scare me?
