Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

What the hell is happening?

He had sent it last night. Probably right after I fell asleep.

Did he mean he didn’t need a ride today?

I shut the voice in my head up before I started jumping to conclusions and blowing this out of proportion like I had last night. I should just ask him what he meant.

Not that he’d give me any clear answers. His answers just raised more questions on top of questions.

I sat on my bed and read his text message over and over, waiting for another one from him. As if he’d just sent it and was about to send another one. I needed him to clarify. Was it his hobby to be as unclear as possible?

Of course, there wasn’t another text coming. I typed furiously.

Kara: Okay. You need a ride tonight?

I stared at the screen, waiting. Willing him to reply. There was no sign that he’d read it. Nothing. I wasn’t sure which one was worse: if he’d read my message and ignored it or if he hadn’t read it yet.

There was a nagging and unsettling feeling in my chest that something was wrong. My intuition was telling me that there was more to his text. And the last time I ignored that intuition, I got socked in the face by a patient.

Still. Maybe my senses had dulled because I was seeing everything with my emotions. Could I still trust my intuition? How did I know it was my intuition and not just my feelings for him clouding my judgment?

I bit my lip, debating whether I should give him a call or not. I didn’t want to annoy him by being a pest.

Whoa, whoa, whoa-t?

Why was I hesitating to call him? It was just a phone call. It’s no big deal. It wasn’t like I was in a game show where I could only phone a friend once. I could phone him as many times as I wanted. Not that I would. This woman had enough pride for that. Still, he made me feel so unsure. The prick. Or was that my own insecurities getting the better of me?

Get your head out of your ass, girl. Be in love if that’s what you want, but don’t lose your head. Be practical.

What the hell was happening to me? The heart eyes didn’t fall off my face. I flicked them off.

I phoned him. I ignored my heart when it started to beat fast. But it went straight to voicemail.

A feeling of gloominess was starting to descend onto my head. I kept convincing myself that this didn’t mean anything. Nothing had changed. I’d see him on campus later. He’d probably text me later to tell me to pick him up tonight after his practice.

* * *

Later that day, I found myself looking for him in the lecture hall. I saw his teammates, but I didn’t see him anywhere. What if something had happened to him? Last night, he’d told me that there were things he wanted to protect me from.

Was it the mafia? Was he an undercover agent? An assassin? A superhero with a dark past? A fallen angel? Or maybe it was as simple as his own complicated issues?

What the hell?

Calm your tits, girl.

When I exited my last class, I walked to the water fountain even though I didn’t need a refill. He probably had something planned with his team or an appointment. Or a million other things. He had a freelancing business he was running after all. He could be having a meeting with Iron Man and Captain America. Who the hell knows?

But the thing was…why didn’t he answer my text or call me back? And why was I obsessing about this?

I was loitering, I realized, annoyed with myself. I had a mental picture of me looking like Humpty Dumpty in Puss in Boots, creeping in the background, shady as hell, spying on Puss.

Thirsty much?

But it wasn’t even thirstiness that was propelling me to the campus gym to see if he was there. It was out of concern now.

The gym was empty.

Frustrated, itchy, I lingered there, debating with myself. A picture of him lying bleeding on the floor of his house pushed me to leave campus. And following my intuition, I drove to his place.