Power Plays & Straight A's - Eden Finley Page 0,15
distance and stopped myself from getting to know him for the last three years.
Nothing has to change. I can still look out for him without hanging out with him.
I thought I’d have to try to evade him throughout the week, but it seems we both have the same idea.
Guess he doesn’t need my help after all. Or maybe he doesn’t want it.
That doesn’t stop me from going home for the weekend in hopes he’s there with Seth.
He’s not.
It doesn’t stop me from watching his every move during our sports psychology class on Monday morning.
He keeps his head down, his eyes on his computer screen as he takes notes while Professor Lawrence drones on and on about shit our coaches taught us freshman year. I wonder if he’s avoiding making eye contact with me or if he has to focus on the class so he actually knows what to expect when we hand in our assignments for him to grade.
It’s been almost a week since we hung out.
I need to find an excuse to talk to him.
“Still haven’t closed on that then,” Jacobs says beside me. “Who turns the Foster Grant down? I mean, doesn’t he know who you are on this campus?”
“It’s not like that. I’m his best friend’s cocky and annoying brother. That’s how he sees me.” That’s how he should see me.
“Want me to make him jealous?” Jacobs slings his arm over my shoulder, and the movement must catch Zach’s eye because his head swivels, and his green eyes level me.
I shove Jacobs away, which only makes him laugh.
“Hey, it worked.” He nods in Zach’s direction.
The scowl marring Zach’s cute, round face makes him look like a senior in high school instead of a guy going for his master’s.
“He’s probably pissed we’re interrupting the class,” I say. “Can’t you sit still for ninety minutes?”
“Nope.”
I scoff. “Figures.”
I tap my pen on my notebook while trying to come up with a reason to approach Zach after class. There’s nothing wrong with checking up on him. It’s what Seth asked me to do.
When class ends, I wait for him outside the room like I did last time, but after waiting forever, I duck my head back inside and realize he must’ve used the side entrance to leave.
Damn it.
The rest of the day goes by too fucking slowly, and I wonder if I’m moving in slow-motion.
Not seeing Zach is actually driving me crazy.
Statistically, we should have run into each other on campus. The fact we haven’t makes me think he’s doing what Seth says he does all the time and has been hiding in his room.
Seth wants Zach to make friends. He asked me to look out for him. Therefore, it’s my duty to invite him out tonight. And I’m nothing but responsible.
Yup.
“Screw it,” I mutter to myself. After heading to my dorm for a quick shower and change of clothes, I go in the opposite direction of the LGBTQ mixer I’m supposed to be going to. Instead, my feet lead me toward Albany Hall.
My student card doesn’t let me into the building because it’s not my dorm, but someone’s coming out as I’m on my way in and they hold the door open for me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, Grant.”
I have no idea who that person is, but clearly, they know me.
That’s what being on the hockey team means at this school.
I run up the stairs to Zach’s room and bang on his door.
Movement from inside sounds but then goes still.
I knock again. “Zach?”
Footsteps get louder, and he opens the door wearing sweats and an old ratty T-shirt. “Foster? What are you doing here?”
“Already settled in for the night?” I ask, running my gaze over his slim build and back up again.
His hair is messy, his glasses are kinda smudged, and it looks like I might’ve woken him from an afternoon nap.
He doesn’t answer me. His head drops, and he plays with the hem of his shirt.
“I’m not teasing you,” I say.
His head shoots up. “What?”
“I’m not teasing you. I meant you look … comfortable.” And delectable, but no way in hell I’m saying that aloud.
“Oh. Umm, yeah. I was going to order in and study, then go to bed.”
Why does that seem so much more appealing than going to this mixer? Not in my room, but right here.
Focus!
“Did you need something?” Zach asks. He’s got the door only partially open, just enough for his body to fit.
I wonder what that’s about. “Oh, shit. Do you have someone in there with you?”