The Protector (Barrett Boys #3) - Jordan Ford Page 0,34

not draw the eye of every person in the room.

Raising my arms in the air, I sway to the beat and look around, happy to see that no one is even noticing me. I’m just one of the crowd, and it makes my smile grow a mile wide.

14

Distracting Smiles and Football Talk

I move as quickly as I can to get the drinks and am back with two sodas before the song is even halfway through. I find Indy on the dance floor and stand mesmerized as she sways to the music, her slender arms reaching for the ceiling, her narrow hips moving in perfect time. Okay, so she’s got rhythm.

And… look at her smile.

A breath catches in my throat.

I only see it for a second.

Her head’s tipped back, and I catch a glimpse of her white teeth, the shape her lips make as they stretch wide across her face.

It’s beautiful.

And then she spins to face Tabby again, and I’m resting against the wall with two cold sodas and a weird feeling in my chest.

“Hey, man.” A friendly voice makes me turn, and I’m facing a tall guy, about my height, with white-blond hair and a smile that dominates his entire face. “How’s it going?”

“Yeah, good.”

“I’m Charlie. You play?” He points at my chest, and I’m struggling to catch up with him.

“Do I play what?”

“Football, man. Come on! You’re built like a freaking tank. You must play something. You here on a scholarship?”

Great. How am I supposed to field this one?

“Uh, I used to play a little in high school. Offensive lineman. How about you?” I divert the conversation back to him and hope it’ll keep him talking about himself.

“Defense.”

“Nice.” I nod and turn back to check on Indy.

She and Tabatha are still dancing. A guy’s joined them now. He’s rockin’ to the beat, getting up close and personal with the girls. I frown, checking his hands, but they’re not touching anything they shouldn’t be right now.

“Are you a transfer or something? I haven’t seen you around here.”

“First year,” I murmur.

“A freshman? No way! You’re huge. I thought you were at least a junior, like me.”

“Nah, born big.” I try to laugh it off, hoping to cut the conversation short.

Indy and Tabatha are still dancing with that guy. I study his narrow face, the swoosh of sandy brown hair flopping over his forehead, and try to decide what I can about his personality. Is he a smarmy douchebag or just a nice guy having some fun?

Tabatha says something close to his face, and he tips his head back with a laugh. Indy grins again but is obviously more focused on the beat and shifts slightly away from them. Tabatha moves closer to the new guy, and it’s hard not to notice the obvious chemistry between them. His eyes flick to Indy, but his hand is soon resting on Tabatha’s hip, his head angled toward her.

Indy turns to look for me and I catch her eye, raising the soda cup. She nods but doesn’t move off the dance floor. I think she just wants to know I’m here.

Well, I am, and I’m not going anywhere.

I probably should be out there dancing with her, but seriously, I’m the biggest klutz on the dance floor. I just can’t do that to myself. I’ve stepped on enough toes to know I should be banned from all dancing activities. Junior prom was a disaster.

“So, back to my first question… you playing for the Mont U Bobcats this year?” Charlie’s still standing beside me, a dopey, hopeful smile on his face.

I ignore the question, noticing Indy bobbing my way, her black ponytail dancing on her shoulders as she jiggles over to me.

“Hey.” She gives me a fleeting, awkward smile and takes the soda from my hand, guzzling it back, then making a face. “Ew, what is this?”

“Cherry Coke.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Ugh, it’s so sweet. Can you get me something else?”

“Like a water?” I give her a pointed look, and she tips her head to the side.

“Or maybe like a beer?”

“Got any ID?” I tease.

The guy beside me laughs and slaps my shoulder. “I can get you a beer, sugar.”

“Nah. It’s all good.” I stop him with a firm hand on his arm. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Sorry, man. Didn’t realize she was your girl.”

I turn to Indy with a silent look—see, I told you we should have gone for that trope!—but she just shakes her head and shouts above the music. “He’s not my boyfriend.