The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

“Love you too.” I stop a few feet away from where she walks and adjust my backpack so I can shoot off a text.

Lance: You can’t avoid me forever.

Harper stops walking when her phone buzzes in her hand. Reads the text, bites her lip, before raising her phone to respond. I study her profile as she types out another reply, she has no intention of sending. She looks beautiful in a fitted sundress, her curves hugged by the thin material. Her halo hair in a braid along her crown while the rest of it flows down her shoulders. My dick recognizes the need for her as I wet my lips, tempted to sweep her up in my arms and carry her away. I can’t decide if I want to kiss the life out of her or punish-fuck her into oblivion. Either way, it’s time to face the music.

“You ever going to send off that text?”

She hangs her head, letting out a breath of defeat without looking my way.

“Go away. We can’t be seen together.”

“No one is around,” I confirm, scanning our part of campus. “It’s just you and your lover.” I chuckle, but it dies in my throat with her reaction.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want him around either,” she retorts dryly.

I close the space between us, determined to front her out. “Look, avoiding me isn’t cool. You’re the one who screwed up.” I raise my hand as she opens her mouth to object. “But not telling me how it went down at home or letting me know if you’re okay isn’t either. I must’ve texted you a hundred times.”

She narrows her eyes. “After you threw me out of your room.”

I nod. “I was upset. I had a right to be.”

“You don’t get to treat me like that no matter what I do wrong. You hear me?”

“I apologized. If you were good at accepting them, maybe we could have resolved this by now.”

“I’m new to this, and you know that!” She looks so innocent glaring at me with a mixture of hurt and determination. “I will not be treated that way!”

“I heard you the first time. And here’s a tip. You have to communicate with the person you’re arguing with or else it isn’t an argument.”

“Don’t you patronize me, Shrek!”

Loud laughter bursts from me, and she harrumphs.

“Oh, come on,” I call to her back, “that was a dig at me and it was funny!”

More aggravation takes hold the further away she gets, and the boom of my voice at her back stops her in her tracks. “Harper, stop!”

She turns to me with her arms crossed.

“Okay, you’ve got me, I’m through the first hoop. You win, I’ll juggle, I’ll do whatever you want, just stop fucking walking away and talk to me.”

She stares at me, her mouth opening and then closing.

“Talk to me,” I urge more gently.

“Look, this week was hell on earth, and I know you’ve got enough going on. It’s just…I felt like we were getting close and you just shut me out like that. So easily, too easily. You shut down on me. I know it’s my mess, but it made me feel like shit.” She tilts her head, her eyes raking over me. “If I’m so easily disposable, I don’t think I should play around with you anymore.”

“If that’s what you want, it’s probably best.” It’s my line. I’m sure I’ve said it half a dozen times, and I’ve never hated myself fully for it until now. I don’t say it because I don’t care, I say it because I genuinely have never wanted to commit to any woman, until now.

“Well, it’s not what I want, if you want honesty from me. Damn you,” her eyes rake me, and I see her face fall, “now I have to start over.”

“What?” I cover the distance between us, studying the gloss on her lips. I’ve missed her. The increase in ache lets me know as much. Being this close to her and being unable to touch her hurts a lot worse than the separation. But she’s forbidden, the key to my demise. She could be the one person to ruin every best-laid plan for me. Why can’t I shake what I feel for her and chalk it up to curiosity? Why am I standing so close to the fire doused in kerosene?

Because I like her, and I like spending time with her. Because I see a lot of myself in her. Because I feel the need to protect her. Because I love being inside of her just from the taste I’ve acquired so far. I love kissing her, touching her, hearing her moan my name. I’m enamored by her. There’s not one thing about her that grates on me, not even when I’m pissed at her. Nothing about this girl rubs me wrong. It’s just the opposite.

“God, could you not stand there looking at me like that!” She shakes her head. “I made it nearly a week,” she mutters. “I was giving you an out. So just take it. Go away. And if you see me in the future, turn the other way. This can’t happen, right? So, let’s cut the head off the monster before it gets us both.”

She resumes her walk towards the parking lot. I fight every inclination to follow, though everything in me is screaming to go after her. Having her the way I had did shit to stifle my want. My appetite has only grown. She’s under my skin, filling my veins, changing my makeup. She wants this, us, to be a thing. How can this be a thing? The coach’s daughter? It’s career suicide, and I don’t even have a career yet. But it’s the throbbing in my chest that wins as my legs pump to catch up with her.