We reach the foyer of the library, and two familiar girls lingering at the entrance run up to me.
“Blaze! Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since Cadillac’s,” says one. I recognize her as one of the girls who played beer pong with us. She starts talking, but I’m not even listening, my gaze on the girl walking away.
Charisma hasn’t even stopped. She’s got her head down, and she keeps on marching right out the door of the library without even saying goodbye.
She felt that tension up there; she knows I’m retreating.
I brush them off and jog to catch up with Charisma.
“Hey, I’m walking you to your car,” I say.
“You don’t have to,” she says coolly as we pass the crosswalk to one of the lots. “You can go chat with your fans, get laid. I can’t believe you’ve gone this long. I’m starting to wonder why, in fact.”
I ignore that and keep my longer stride matching her pace until we reach her car at the back in a dimly lit area. She gets it unlocked and turns to face me.
I stare at her, eyes searching hers. She’s got that exposed look again, that bruised one, the one I saw at Cadillac’s. I know I should just walk away right now, but my body isn’t listening to my head.
“You’re upset,” I say after a few moments.
“I’m not. Go back and flash your abs at those girls. See if I care.”
This feels like it’s about more than just the girls in the library.
“I don’t give a shit about those girls. I can read your face, Charisma. If you’ve got something to say, just let it out.” I lean against her car door and cross my legs.
Her mouth tightens. “Fine. You want to know what’s been eating at me since I saw you? Why did you dump me? I thought we…” Her words trail off, her fists at her sides.
A long sigh comes from my chest, and I grimace and look off across the lot, avoiding her eyes. “You were going to cut me loose eventually.”
“Blaze, that’s…not true. I wanted…” She stops. In my peripheral, I watch as she swallows and blinks. “You said I wasn’t your type, goddamn it. You hurt me.”
I close my eyes. I did say that. I rake my hands through my hair and pace around the parking lot. I stop and face her. She is my type, scary smart and hot as hell.
And I’m not worthy of her.
Good girls like her don’t stick around with a guy like me. Sure, I have a talent for football and people tell me I’m handsome, but underneath…
Why would she want me?
“Charm, I’m so sorry I said that. It came out wrong. I bungled it up, and you didn’t deserve that. You are my type, and I think deep down you really know that.” I pause. “I’m not yours.”
“How do you know my type?” she says, her face hard.
“I just do. I’ve seen you, Charm—since freshman year. I know you like them nice and quiet and smart. Chess guys, whatever. That’s not me.”
She shakes her head, as if realigning everything in her mind. “Let me get this straight: what you really meant was that you weren’t my type?” Her words are incredulous, still tinged with hurt.
I nod.
“And that was all it took for you to break it off?” She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor there. “We’d just had sex the night before.”
I swallow and start pacing again. “I didn’t intend to do it like that, okay?”
“Then why did you?”
Why? WHY? Because after she left my dorm room, I knew if I didn’t do it at the party, then I never would.
“I…I was worked up from the game, and it just happened. Plus, you…you looked like you’d be okay without me. You had your sorority and friends, and I realized I needed to focus on football. I didn’t want things to get serious between us, and it felt like…like it was going there if I didn’t put a stop to it.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to lay it all out, to try to explain that she had the potential to hurt me, but my mouth won’t say the words.
She dips her head, but before she does, I think I see the shimmer of tears in her eyes, and it makes me freeze. I take a step back. Nah, I can’t go there. I can’t. If she cries, I’m gonna lose it. I’m gonna hold