Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

I don’t turn around, but I do see a few girls whipping out their phones ahead of me, snapping pics and probably videoing. I dip my head and stare at the ground. If he’s as hot with the media as everyone says, I don’t want to be part of that, especially when it’s obvious I don’t fit in with his crowd. I recall those “Yes, whatever you want, Jack” willowy creatures in the VIP room.

Yeah, Jack and I don’t go together. That is crystal clear.

Chapter 12

JACK

Fuck.

Why can’t I take my eyes off her heart-shaped ass in those pants as she weaves through the crowd to get away from me?

Away from me.

How long has it been since a woman didn’t want anything to do with me? I can’t remember. I guess middle school, when I was a skinny runt. It wasn’t until I played football that women flocked to me.

She breezes past the crowd and exits, slamming the door behind her, but I’m right behind her. Relief settles over me as I take in the night. Finally, I’m out of that club. I rarely go there anymore, but with Devon’s birthday, I knew it was important I do the mix-and-mingle thing. It’s hard, pushing myself to be “on,” especially with all this other shit going on.

She turns a corner, and I jog. I can’t let her get away from me this time. But I knew I had to get her out of that VIP room, because rumors can start from the smallest thing.

There’s a cold drizzle when I catch up with her on the sidewalk. She doesn’t care, not even whipping out an umbrella as she stalks. She strikes me as the type who doesn’t care that she’s getting wet. I wish I had one for her as I try to keep pace with her, sticking my hands in my pockets.

What do I say?

Shit.

I don’t even know how to talk to a girl these days.

“Where you going?” I start with.

“My car. Home. Away.”

My lips twitch, and I see her throw me a glance.

“What’s so funny? And why are you following me? I have pepper spray, you know.”

I nod. “Good. You shouldn’t be walking to your car alone. I’ll make sure you get there.”

She presses those full lips together. They’re a hot pink tonight, and my eyes invariably go to the upper part, a deep V there, noticing how it gives her a just-kissed look.

“Stop staring at me. I’m a stalker, remember? I followed you to Milano’s and the club.”

I grab her hand, and she stops and looks down at it. I let her go, but at least she’s not walking away from me anymore. “Elena. I’m sorry I said that.”

“Then why did you say those things?”

“Because I’m stupid.” I exhale. “You showed up in the VIP room, and you had that on.” I wave my hand at her hot outfit. “It surprised me. It’s a well-known fact that Devon owns that place, and women hang out there just to look for us. Plus, I had you in my head as someone else. All prim and proper . . .”

My eyes go low, taking in the way her shirt keeps slipping down her shoulder, revealing the black lace of her bra. Her height hits me around my upper chest, and I dig her small frame, all my protective instincts flaring up—especially when I saw her wrapped up with Devon on the dance floor. Sonofabitch. He was playing me. He isn’t into her. Right?

What if he is?

I roll my neck.

She’s pushed her glasses up to hold back her auburn hair, and her face is mostly devoid of makeup, skin like porcelain, her lashes dark and thick, fluttery fans as they blink up at me. I recall last night and that pencil skirt and demure Peter Pan collar.

“I like you all buttoned up,” I admit grudgingly.

“Why?”

I shrug, feeling bemused. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just you.”

“Oh.”

We stand there in the soft rain, staring at each other, and I clear my throat. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I wanted to tell you my real name half a dozen times. I didn’t, because it felt good to know you wanted me for me and not because of who I am.”

She looks away from me, watching a group of people laughing as they walk past us. They don’t seem to look at us, but I’m jonesing to get off this street and away from everyone.

“Are you into Devon?” I blurt, surprising myself.

She levels ocean eyes at me. “If I were?”

“Then I’ll back off.” Motherfucker. I will not back off.

“Back off from what? We aren’t a thing, Jack.”

“Is that so? Even after last night?” I watch her closely, trusting body language way more than words.

Her chest rises, and a slow flush colors her cheeks. She swallows and chews on those lips, and my body responds, hardening.