look at my phone to see if he’s texted me. He hasn’t. I haven’t texted him either.
“You’re thinking about him?” Mike stares at me.
I grimace. “Yeah.”
His hand brushes over my shoulder and makes little circles there.
“We can get out of here and forget them, put them out of our minds.” There’s a questioning look in his gaze. “If you want?”
I suck in a breath. “Ah, uh, I…I don’t think…” I bite my lip.
Mike is perfect—but his eyes aren’t ice blue, and his touch doesn’t make my skin go up in flames.
“Hey, it’s all good. I just thought…well, you know what I thought.” He lets out a small laugh. “We seem to have a lot in common, and I let my head go there.” He shrugs.
I laugh. “No, don’t apologize. It’s not you—”
My eyes land on a group that just entered the booth area, a couple.
Heaviness hits my chest and I suck in a breath.
It’s him with a pretty girl. He’s got on jeans and a blue button-up shirt, and the sleeves are rolled up, his roped forearms taut and muscular. He looks hot, his hair styled back and gelled off his face as if he’s taken care with it.
She’s tall and slender with shoulder-length reddish brown hair that brushes against her pale shoulders in a yellow dress. She’s got her hand on his arm, and she’s laughing up at something he’s saying. She slides into a booth near us, just one aisle over, a bit closer to the stage.
He smiles down at her and then his eyes move up and find me.
His freezes and runs his gaze from me to Mike, his face expressionless. He takes in the table, lingering on the shot glasses, then on my date. His lips go flat.
His date takes his arm and pulls him down to the seat.
He keeps his gaze on me for a long time. I glare back.
“Shit, Charisma, who is that?” It’s Mike speaking, and I tear my eyes off of Blaze and look at him.
I clear my throat. “Blaze Townsend.”
His eyes flare. “That’s your ex, isn’t it? The most popular guy on campus?”
“Not technically an ex, and there are others more popular.” Not really.
“He’s seething. Something really serious happened between you and him, am I right?” He leans in closer. “You want to get out of here?”
I think about it. It would be the prudent thing, but when do I ever make the right decision? “No. Maybe I…need to see this.”
“You sure? I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t care—or if he does, he’s never said so.”
He said I want you.
Mike thinks, his gaze bouncing from me to Blaze. “Some guys aren’t much for pretty words, but their eyes tell the story. His are…scary.”
Maybe.
The waitress shows up with our refills, and once it’s in my glass, I suck it down.
21
The Purple Iris is packed when we walk in and make our way to a booth.
“I love this place! Great idea,” she says, looking up at me with deep blue eyes.
Not my idea. “Yeah,” I say as we take in the open seats.
She squeezes my arm. “I heard the band tonight is great.”
“Yeah.”
She nods and bats her lashes. She’s Dillon’s cousin, and he’s been begging me to be nice to her and give her a chance. “You’re grade A prime beef and you’re moping around the dorm. It’s fucking embarrassing. You’re in the Combine. If you don’t have her, ride a new pony!” He might have used the phrase pussy-whipped.
I’ve been ignoring his nagging, but today after classes and my workout, his cousin showed up at the dorm and Dillon begged me to double up with him and his girl—and why the hell not?
She asked for space, I remind myself.
I opened myself up in class, and Charisma acted like it wasn’t a big deal, almost like I was a nuisance, and trust me, I’ve felt like that plenty of times in my life growing up. I don’t want to go there again.
Doesn’t she know I don’t say those kinds of things to any girl?
Still, I don’t want to be here. I shouldn’t have come.
I spot a booth and we move through the crowd. Voices call my name and people wave. A couple of players invite us to sit at their big table in the front, but I tell them we’re hanging with Dillon and his girl when they show up.
My stomach jumps when I see Charisma at a booth. The girl next to me is talking nonstop,