morning she was dry-eyed.
And he was the one who left.
Chapter Seventeen
They talked every night, but Mike could tell she was drifting away from him. That was the point, he supposed. After all, they’d both agreed to just be friends when the summer was over. But he’d thought they’d be intimate friends.
They’d tried, of course. When they spoke, she was right there with him, telling him about her day and asking about his. But even with Skype, they were missing something. The affectionate touches, the random thoughts that happened out of the blue, usually when she was just waking up. Between her preparations for the semester and his training schedule, they only had about an hour a day to be with each other over cyberspace. That left twenty-three other hours when she was doing stuff, seeing people, being Tori and he wasn’t around.
It was killing him.
Almost as much as the training. He hadn’t worked this hard since he’d been a freshman in high school trying to bulk up.
Everything in him was aimed at his first game. She was going to fly out for three days. She’d gotten someone to cover her classes and he was going to show her New York the way only a mega-rich superstar could. Her father was coming, too, and he’d already planned to give the old guy the full Knicks press. He was going to convert the man to a Knicks fan, and then he was going to let the man loose with the team while he spirited Tori away.
That was the plan, and he was giddy the day he finally waited in baggage claim, a dozen red roses in his arms and a Knicks jersey for her dad. His plan was simple: show her so good a time that she was open to relocating to out here. Maybe NYU needed a visiting professor or something. At least she could think about taking her sabbatical with him. Something. Anything. But it started with saying the words he’d held back for too long: I love you. I love you, please help me find a way for us to be together.
Hell, he’d even play for the Bulls if they’d take him.
Jesus, where was she? He was well known here, and as much as he’d tried to keep it quiet, there were already reporters “hanging out” in baggage claim. Some weren’t even trying to be subtle, and he’d already given “no comment” to the few who asked who was getting the roses.
Damn it, he was getting nervous. This was like dropping Tori into the middle of a firestorm. The second he handed her the roses, she’d be swept up in the media whirlwind.
Come on. Come on. It was bad enough the flight had been delayed out of Chicago. He’d been waiting hours. Where—
He saw her. Blonde, slender, and beautiful. She seemed to light up the world. He was so happy to see her that he didn’t at first register that she wasn’t smiling. And she wasn’t with her father.
Holy shit, what the hell was Edward doing here? And with his hand lying possessively on her lower back?
She saw him as soon as they topped the escalator. At least her reaction was just what he’d been imagining. Her face lit up with a huge grin and she started to push her way down the escalator, but there was no hope. It was too stuffed with people for her to go anywhere. So he got to just look at her—so animated she was bouncing—and his heart just swelled. Until Edward grinned and waved too.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Were they back together? They couldn’t be. She hadn’t said anything. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She said they’d had lunch a few times and gotten together for coffee. A movie one night, too. And that it was nice that he finally appreciated her.
God, no. It couldn’t be possible, but the bastard was here and not her father.
She finally made it to the end of the escalator and ran full tilt at him. He tried to present her the roses, but didn’t get the chance. She jumped into his arms—well, his free arm—and he held her so close that he lifted her off the ground.
He wanted to tell her to be careful. That there was press everywhere, but the words got lost. His mind was a haze of ToriToriToriTori. The way she smelled, the feel of her against his body, the way she breathed. Everything about her was right. Especially when she planted her mouth on