“Why are you so afraid to tell me who it is?” His expression turns thunderous. “You’d better not be back with that cheating asshole.”
I roll my eyes. “Do you really think I’d do that?”
“I hope not.”
“It’s not Andrew, okay? Can we just drop this?”
“Better not be a football player. They’re all a bunch of—”
“Watch it, my boyfriend is one of those guys,” Sasha says, jumping into the conversation.
Ryder smirks. He knows exactly who she’s with. It wasn’t so long ago that I set them up on a date. Only now am I glad it didn’t work out. Like I need to be tag teamed by these two?
No, thanks.
“As far as we know, this guy isn’t an athlete,” Sasha supplies.
Ryder shifts, gaze darting between us. “What do you mean?”
“She hasn’t exactly met him,” Sasha explains. “It was a wrong number and they got to texting.”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” he mutters.
I huff out a breath and glare. First at him and then at my traitorous roommate. I am so over this conversation.
“Don’t worry, I told her that she needs to investigate the situation before it goes any further, or they decide to meet up.”
Ryder shakes his head before crossing his brawny arms over his chest. “You realize this person could be messing with you, right?”
“So I’ve been informed.” The pit has gradually grown throughout this conversation to the size of Texas.
“Yup, catfished,” Sasha adds. “It happens. I’ve watched a few shows on it.”
Ugh.
These two…
Unwilling to listen to either of them for another moment, I rise to my feet. “Now seems like a good time for a break.” I stare pointedly at my cousin. “Hopefully, when I return, you won’t be here.”
“That’s not very nice,” he grumbles. “I’m just concerned about you, that’s all.”
“I’m not a moron.” Again, my gaze slides between the pair of them. “I won’t put myself in a bad situation, and I’m not going to meet up with someone unless I know exactly who it is. Okay?”
They both grumble out responses.
With nothing more to say, I spin around and stalk toward the bathroom. As much as I want to dismiss the thoughts circling around my head, that’s now impossible. I really hope Sasha is wrong about Chris being anything other than an engineering student at Western.
Although, as much as I hate to admit it, she’s right about one thing—I need to do a little more recon and make sure this guy is who he says he is before this relationship progresses any further.
Because at this point, that’s exactly what it feels like.
A relationship.
8
CROSBY
After a grueling two-hour practice, I strip off my pads and jump into the shower, washing off sweat and bits of turf that are stuck to my damp skin in record speed. Instead of standing around and shooting the shit with the other guys the way I normally would, I throw on my clothes and hitch my duffel bag over my shoulder before heading toward the exit.
“Dude.” Andrew slides in front of me before holding up his hands. “What the hell? Aren’t you going to wait for me?”
I shift the bag on my shoulder, antsy to take off. “I will if you get your ass in gear. I’ve got a lot of work to do.” That’s not necessarily the truth. All right, fine. It’s a flat-out lie, but what am I supposed to say?
That I’m impatient to lock myself in my room and text his ex?
No way.
I can just imagine how that would go over.
And that’s like a lead balloon.
Irritation flickers in his blue eyes as he waves me away. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll catch a ride with Asher. I was gonna hang out at their place for a while anyway.”
The tension gathering in my shoulders gradually evaporates as relief rushes in to fill the void.
Fuck.
What I’m doing is so wrong.
Each day, I tell myself that I’m going to back off and let this thing die out. And yet, I can’t. I have no idea how a few innocent messages spun so far out of control. I hate how much I enjoy texting with her, getting to know her on a deeper level, exchanging funny little stories or reminiscing about our childhoods. I’ve discovered more about Brooke in the past week than I have in the three and a half years we’ve attended the same school.
I might not know where all this is leading, but I realize at some point, it’s going to explode in my face.
How can it not?
I’ve spent almost eighteen months tamping down all my feelings. I’ve tried to convince myself that she’s not as cool, smart, or funny as I imagined she might be.
You know what?
Turns out that she’s all those things and more.
Now that I know this, the last thing I want to do is keep my distance. The more I get to know her, the more I like her.