The Payback (Team Zulu 2)

My face went blank. Damn him for being hotandperceptive. He hadn’t missed a single moment of my freak-out. “Fine. I may have panicked for a second, but I thought that rider was going to—” I swallowed my next words, realizing how crazy they’d sound.

All humor left Blue Eyes’ expression. “You thought he was going to what?”

I sighed and shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

As if reminding me of those events, the pain in my thigh flared to life. I massaged the ugly scar hidden beneath my leggings.

Blue Eyes followed the movement. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I stifled a groan as the throbbing ache ebbed. “It’s an old injury.”

It was only when I stopped tending to my leg that Blue Eyes seemed satisfied I was okay. He collected my backpack, swipe card, and one AirPod from the pavement before handing them to me.

“Thanks,” I mumbled and swung my bag over one shoulder.

“Is there a laptop in there?”

“Yeah.”

“It must’ve hit the ground pretty hard. If it’s busted, I might be able to fix it for you.”

Not that I’d ever take him up on the offer, but how was a guy like him going to fix a computer? Sure, that was a superficial opinion, but there were plenty of IT whizzes on campus. None of them looked like Blue Eyes. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

He offered me his hand. “I’m Brandon.”

I returned the gesture since it would be rude not to. And because he had sort of saved my frozen-in-terror ass from getting run over. “Sage.”

His palm was warm, callused, and freaking huge. Of course, a big guy would have big hands. Without my permission, my brain traveled down a wildly inappropriate thought path and imagined theotherimplications of his hand size.

What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I needed to get laid. Just not byhim.

“Sage.” He said my name slowly with a knowing smirk. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

I snorted, withdrawing my palm. “No offense, but I doubt that.”

Brandon pulled something from his pocket. A gray swipe card identical to my own.

“Oh, look.” He held it up. “I have one just like yours.” He touched his card to the security panel and opened the door for me with one brawny arm.

With my jaw clenched firm, I took in my surroundings, in particular the U-Haul truck parked at the curb, the rear door raised and boxes stacked high inside.

Oh, hell no.

Cringing, I turned to face him. “You’re moving into my building?”

“Apartment 3B. Which one are you?”

It took all my willpower not to growl a string of expletives. “3A.”

“Guess that makes us neighbors. Don’t be a stranger, Sage.” He winked, and I almost punched myself in the stomach when traitorous butterflies took flight.