The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,88
going to cost me my only friend.
“Burton, is it?” My father tsks, and I already know where this is going to go. “I don’t think I’ve heard that name before.”
“Yes, Burton,” Alice’s father replies while shaking my father’s hand. Like most men, he doesn’t seem even a little intimidated by my father. “I try to keep my name out of the spotlight as much as I can. I’m more of a silent partner.”
My father smiles, but it looks more like if a shark smiled at you. His eyes light up, and excitement overtakes his features. Of course, that piques his interest. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing. Business is the only thing that matters to him. My father’s conversation carries on while Alice and her mom excuse themselves to go and talk to someone else they know. Pretending I don’t care, I smile and cross my arms over my chest. It’s almost too hard to watch as all the happy families laugh and hug. I won’t ever have this, a happy family, someone that is excited to see me. Ugh, pity party for one, I guess. Distracting myself, my gaze wanders around the room until I find a person in the far corner of the room…
He’s half cloaked in darkness, the shadows covering his face. Even without seeing his features, I feel like I know him. The way he holds his body, there is something so familiar about it. I rack my brain, trying to recall meeting someone such as him, but nothing comes. Right then, the small hairs on the back of my neck rise up, goosebumps spread across my arms, and my heart starts to beat in an irregular rhythm. Dread fills my gut, and even though I have no reason to feel the way that I do right now, I can’t shut the feelings off. It’s like deep down, I know something bad is going to happen.
What is going on?
Like a hand gripping onto your leg in an old horror movie, fear claws at me, threatening to pull me under. I can’t even see his face, only the contours of his broad shoulders, muscular chest, and the way his large hand is wrapped around the delicate glass he’s holding. It’s almost as if with the simplest of pressures, he could break it.
He could break me. I shake the thought away, unsure where it came from to begin with. I don’t know him, whoever he is.
I’m about to turn to let my father know that I’m leaving when someone, no, not someone, a man comes to stand in front of me. My eyes lift to his face, he can’t be but a little older than me. He’s handsome in a my-father-is-rich-as-sin kind of way. Perfectly tailored clothes, meticulously styled hair, and a sharp jawline.
He smiles at me, showing off his dimples and a set of straight and sparkling white teeth. His eyes twinkle with mischievous, the color of deliciously melted chocolate.
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting a pretty face like yours. You must be one of the freshmen?”
I smile as well because his smile is infectious, “Well, this is the freshman brunch, isn’t it?” I cringe at the words after they’ve already come out.
Mystery man gives me a low chuckle, it’s deep, and I can feel it in my bones, “I mean, yeah, but I’m not a freshman, and I’m here too, so …” His eyes glitter with amusement.
“Sorry, that was rude of me,” I apologize half-heartedly.
He nods, takes a sip of his drink, and for a split second, I let my gaze roam over him. Muscular chest, broad shoulders, big hands. He’s tall, much taller than me, towering over me by a good four inches. He’s got the body of an athlete, but somehow, I doubt he plays sports.
“Like what you see?” he says coyly.
My cheeks burn. “I wasn’t checking you out. I was just...” Shit, what was I doing?
“It’s okay if you were. I was checking you out too, and in case you were wondering…” He leans into my face, and as I suck a panicked breath into my lungs, I catch a whiff of his cologne. Sandalwood and patchouli. Warm, rich, and inviting. “I like what I’ve seen thus far.” He winks, and while his demeanor is playful, I can’t help but feel like there is a deeper meaning to what he is saying. I like what I’ve seen thus far. Like he’ll have the chance to see more.
“Willow…” My father’s