Page 12 of Chasing Headlines

“Hey, now.”

The voices grew closer. My hand froze in midair. An instinct. Something I should remember.

She glanced at her phone. “Shit. I've gotta go.” She tucked her device into her bag and moved hair out of her face.

Footsteps scuffed against tile. “. . . spent the summer traveling?—”

My brain clicked into gear, and I grabbed her arm as she tried to brush past me.

“Excuse me? You don't have?—”

“Don't go.”

Her eyes widened. Nostrils flared. This chick would be bad for my health—and amazing in my bed. I finally managed to gesture and say words. “Don't walk around like that.”

“Like what? A melted ice cube? I can't be?—”

Voices again. Closer. “Dude, playing for Coach Schorr?—”

“We're going to win so hard.”

I dropped my duffel and planted my arm against the wall. I curled the other one around her waist to hold her in place.

“Manhandle much? Let go of me. You don’t have permission?—”

“Your shirt. You don't strike me as?—”

“Oh, I'm about to.” Her eyes narrowed. I leaned back and caught the arm before she could hit me.

“Man, I've heard so many rumors.” Voices chattered right behind us. “Wonder who'll be here. I gotta make the roster . . .”

“Don't.” Her breath on my collarbone sent chills through every nerve ending.

I ducked my head. “Your shirt is see-through.” I hissed near her ear. “You don't seem like someone who wants to, uh . . .”

“Fuck,” she said with a groan. She leaned her head back against the wall, exposing her throat. My mouth watered with an urge to bite into her neck. My body hovered inches away. Everything inside me screamed to just . . . move.

She placed her hand on my shoulder, and I uttered a mental prayer that she was about to put me out of my misery. I didn't have permission, but she sure as shit did.

“Are they gone?”

I swallowed and tried to regulate my breathing. I nodded and took a half step back.

She pulled at the front of her shirt. I willed my eyes to look away, but my body had stopped listening to me. The fact that it'd been months since anything this appealing had caught my notice . . . was not something I could dwell on. I needed to get to practice. Right?

Right.

Except.

A grim set to her jaw, narrowed eyes. She bit the end of her thumb and kept her arms tucked around her chest. The fabric she'd pulled away molded back to her skin. I let my eyes rove down her legs to her running shoes. What was she doing here? School didn't start for another couple of weeks, and, as far as I knew, only football, soccer and baseball held August camp.

Why wasn't I asking for her number?Because it's a douchebag move.Right. “You got something else to put on?”

She shook her head and looked away. “Going outside should be like standing in a giant hairdryer.” She grumbled. “But I have an appointment. I'll be late.” She turned her back to me. Probably my cue to leave.

But.

A lone brain cell woke up and ignited. I grabbed my duffle and dug out the Rally mascot shirt. “Here.” I tossed it to her when she turned. “It's clean.”