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He grins, “Hagan’s brother doesn’t count. He came to see Hagan—I was an afterthought.” He knows that’s not true. “I have to say, I thought you would ride here with Hagan.”
“Why?”
He looks down at me and ruffles my hair like I’m a toddler. The Adonis is a softie at heart. “You are clueless, Little A. His family bought the suite. Our families know each other because of Nic being a sportscaster.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Hagan arranged it all. He asked me to invite you because he knew you wouldn’t come if he did.”
“Then why did your sister pick me up?”
He tilts his head, making this goofy face. “Same as above. If you aren’t into him in the I-want to-jump-your-bones kind of way, then just friend zone him. Don’t lie. He told me about the kiss, so don’t act like you’re not into him. Well, I guess he could be a terrible kisser, but Hagan thought it was… I think the word he used was special.”
My jaw drops like a slow moving elevator. Logan puts his finger under my chin and closes my mouth. “He said it was special?” He nods. “I like him, but it scares me.”
“Don’t tell me, Little A. Tell him.” He gets lost in thought then says, “I want to look at someone the way he looks at you.”
This time, my jaw practically hit the floor. This is a huge revelation. It’s one thing for Hagan to set today up, but it’s surprising that Logan wants more than one or two nights with someone. “Does Josie fit that description?”
“Nah. We’re superficial friends with benefits.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just like with Hagan and some of the other athletic standouts, women want us for what may happen down the road, NFL, MLB, NBA.” Nodding at his claim, I do understand. Some of Logan’s teammates fist bump him on their way in. “You should find Hagan and apologize for whatever you did.”
“Why do you think it was me? I asked for a ride, and he refused.”
“Keep playing it through your head. I haven’t seen Hagan mad or upset one time unless you had something to do with it.” Logans smirks and his demeanor changes like a light switch. “I’m off to find Josie.”
I’m about to return advice, but with his long stride, he’s gone in three seconds. I’m left standing alone in what is fast becoming an out-of-control party.
I walk into the house and see my roomie lip locked with Joe. They’re adorable. We had so much fun eating dinner together the other night. I need to find Hagan and talk. I’m not sure I have anything to apologize for—I’d eaten. I was joking around but maybe this was where Hagan drew the line. A person can only be rejected so many times before it’s no longer worth their energy.
I was jealous of Josie and nervous that he wasn’t feeling the same way I did regarding the special kiss, so I lashed out, obviously lacking in dating etiquette.
When I crossover into the next room, Hagan’s shoulder is leaning against the wall talking to a blonde. They have blue cups in hand. She says something that makes him laugh and she beams, which makes her even prettier. They bump their cups together and she takes a large swallow while he takes only a sip.
His gaze drifts over the room like he senses my presence. His eyes lock on mine, expressionless, and my chest aches. I see the twitch of his lip from here before he motions for her to follow him.
Resentment travels through my body, leaving a torrid trail of nausea. I may be too late. Did Hagan decide I’m not worth it? We need to clear the air, but I can’t exactly insert myself between them.
Some girls from my freshman dorm run into me giggling, asking what happened to my leg.
Hagan happened, not only in thoughts but now my mind and body are on the same page.
I give them the short version—and not the part where I was thinking of the transfer. They invite me to sit with them outside, so we fill our drinks, mine non-alcoholic. Joe knows I don’t drink, so he keeps a stash of flavored carbonated waters under the sink. One of the girls, Kimber, is dating a guy on the team, so we file in around him and his friends.
Hagan sits in the circle around the firepit. Blondie, although not a Barbie, is on one side of him, talking to her friend. He glances my way, and as soon as our eyes meet, he drops his head and takes a drink. But even his short gaze heats me from the inside out. A simple glance tells me that I’ve hurt him, turning him into something he’s not.
I catch up with my friends while waiting for my chance to speak with Hagan alone. When he stands up, rubbing his palms against his thighs, I’m hoping this is my chance, that his cute blonde sidekick doesn’t follow him.
His voice sounds strained when he asks, “Adalee, you need my seat?”
God, he has the best manners. “No, thanks.” He shakes his head and walks to the fence. His hand on the gate lock. “Hagan, wait.”
My brace is not keeping me from talking to him tonight. He runs his hand through his hair and his other hand starts to put on a phantom cap. He must do it so often that it’s a habit. There’s no smile adorning his dark complexion. He pulls the wrought iron handle to the gate, but not before I make it to him and jerks the wooden fence. “Fuck.”
Gripping his finger, blood pools out of his hand. He sucks the blood and I’m wishing it was my finger he was sucking on. This is how Hagan Chatham short circuits my brain. It concocts scenarios and feelings that are for mature audiences only.
