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If his eyes didn’t drill into my soul.
If his smile didn’t make butterflies inside me spread their wings.
If he didn’t have girls hanging on every word. If he didn’t raise his glass to me. If he didn’t try to protect Erika. If my stomach didn’t do a two and a half twisting somersault when I was within twenty feet of him—I would have been paying more attention to my surroundings and wouldn’t have torn my ACL.
“Ugh,” I accidentally say out loud. I realize it’s not rational to blame Hagan if I lose my scholarship or can’t compete by winter but blaming him is a way to keep me from falling for the panty-melting baseball player.
This is a senior level engineering class, but I had so many credits combined with summer school that I’ll be graduating this year. My family is one of those that doesn’t have enough to pay for college but earns too much money to receive grants. My hope is to start graduate school next year if I still have a gymnastics scholarship.
The professor’s voice booms in the small auditorium. “Welcome. We’re lucky that a major company has agreed to partner with us for some hands on learning. The downtown revitalization project is underway, and I’ll be pairing you up to work on solutions to problems they’ve already encountered and solved on paper.”
This is fantastic.
I hate—absolutelyhate—working with others. I’m not a team player, which is why I participate in an individual sport like gymnastics.
Erika sits beside Hagan, running her fingers at the nape of his neck, fingering his curls. He tilts his head away, but she continues. Her blonde hair is streaked with glimmering strands of the quintessential swimmer. Last year, she and long-time boyfriend, Bryan, broke up. He was drafted to play baseball for Washington, but I think he’s currently playing in the minors.
I guess Erika is trying to pick up where she left off with Bryan with Hagan.
I’m exhausted, and it’s going to take me longer than ten minutes to get to my next lecture. Class ends in five minutes, so I decide to slip out the heavy wooden door. It makes an obnoxious squeak and smacks itself shut.
I struggle on the uphill slope, so I sit down on a bench and open my backpack. The banana I pull out is covered with brown spots and it’s mushy. It’s not what I want but I need energy to get across campus.
Erika and Hagan come out of the lecture hall talking before going separate ways. But then I see Chaz come out of nowhere and grab her arm. He’s yelling at her, and the words“fucking transfer” echo in the quad. What? Why does Chaz care if Erika is flirting with Hagan? They argue until they’re out of sight.
Three hours later, I’m in the athletic trainer’s office. He takes off my brace, inspecting from my thigh to my toes, and gives me a list of activities to do this week.
This weight room is scheduled a few hours a day for specific teams, and right now the baseball team is occupying it. I stay lying down on the training table until it’s gymnastics time.
When I reach the weight room, I see Hagan and Joe chatting it up with Ginger and some of my teammates. I’ve not even met him, but for the life of me can’t get him out of my head. Joe gives Ginger a quick kiss before the guys walk out.
The coast is clear as I limp to the weight room door. A burst of air hits me as does the solid smell of sweat and virility. A large hand latches onto the bar on the door, pulling it open. “After you,” he says in a genteel manner.
I give him a quick glance. “Thanks.”
“I’m Hagan. Adalee, right?Logan told me that you had surgery. What happened?”
I’ll tell you what happened. You snapped my ACL.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Freak accident.” It was a freak accident. I’m a freak for thinking about an easy going baseball player with a laugh that sounds like a song in kids movie. Right now, I’m thinking about how his laugh put a smile on my face and will never be erased from my memory. But in the end, I’m not getting caught up in another athlete.
“That sucks. Let me know if I can help you with anything. Being in brace must suck—just follow your doctor’s directions,” he says, his caramel brown eyes staring into mine. He waits for me to say something and when I don’t respond, he places his hand on my back. “Lean on me. You shouldn’t be putting too much weight on it.”
Don’t play your knight in shining armor routine on me. I know your type—all gorgeous and self-absorbed.
I jerk my body away from his touch—sizzling through my Stallions Gymnastics tank.
I felt nothing. Don’t smile at me. You're just like Chaz. But is he? I never had these feelings with him.
He smiles then says, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you without asking if you wanted my help. I was brought up to help. If you were my sister, I would want someone to help her.”
Now I really hate him. He’s nice. He takes two steps backward, sporting a smile that could melt a snowman. It’s that bright and full of life. He slowly swaggers out.
As I adjust the weight on the shoulder press, I notice a phone lying on the floor. I pick it up and push the side button and a picture of Hagan and a girl pop onto the screen. She’s pretty but her appearance isn’t the same as the girls he’s been hanging out with on campus—blondes have been his scene.
I look around and the baseball guys have left. So, I tuck the phone into my athletic shorts and begin my workout. The whole time I’m exercising, I think about Hagan’s gentle touch and his manners. But then I remind myself—no more athletes.
An hour later, I arrive at Logan and Hagan’s house to return Hagan’s phone. I don’t know why I’m here, I could have given it to Ginger to give to Joe, but my gut wants to see him in his environment, by himself.
