Page 16 of Blue Moon Love

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrugged. “It looks better on you, pretty girl.”

Her eyes twinkled, just like they always did when I called her pretty girl. At least that was still the same.

“Did I score?” I asked, trying to make conversation, not that it was an arbitrary question; I was really curious. I knew that I’d been close to the end zone before the searing pain ripped through my leg.

“Almost.”

I sighed. Almost wasn’t good enough. Ricky Bobby said it best; “If you’re not first, you’re last.” I’d wanted to wipe the floor with Jonah I-played-in-the-NFL Walsh. Especially after I’d seen him point into the crowd at Kenna. I’d seen red. I’d wanted blood. And I’d gotten it; it just turned out to be mine and not his.

“Who won?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“You need help. Your competitiveness is going to kill you one day.”

“Who won?” I repeated.

“I refuse to respond on the grounds that I will not enable your obsession with winning.”

“You don’t have to respond. I know my boys in blue won.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly. “How did you know that?”

“I have my ways.” I grinned.

Her eyes narrowed at me, and she gave me a stare that might just take me out if the ACL injury didn’t. That answer had always irritated her, which only made me want to give it more. Kenna Hale, irritated, was the cutest thing on the planet.

The truth was, I hadn’t known we won. I guessed because I knew that if we had lost, she would have told me. She wouldn’t have wanted me to find out from someone else. The only reason she’d keep the outcome from me was if it was a good one, and she was trying to teach me a lesson.

As I watched her sip coffee from her steaming Styrofoam cup, I couldn’t help but grin. I didn’t know what was going on with her or why she’d been avoiding me, but we were still us. I could still push her buttons. She was still my emergency contact. She still called into work because I’d gotten injured. She was still my person.

I wasn’t sure what I’d done to make her act so weird, though, and I planned on getting to the bottom of it. The only times she had ever been distant in the past was when I was seeing someone who was more than just a casual hookup. I’d never actually committed to anyone, but over the years, there’d definitely been women I cared about who were more than just consecutive one-night stands.

But I hadn’t even had a one-night stand in over a year. I’d gone out a few times with Molly Calhoun and a few random women, but we hadn’t even kissed. So, I wasn’t sure why I was getting the cold shoulder.

Kenna’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her purse. When she saw the screen, a smile spread across her face. As she read it, she bit her lower lip, the way she did when she was nervous. As her thumbs moved over the screen to respond to the message, she inhaled slowly through her nose, as if she were trying to stay calm.

I knew that look. I knew that inhale. I knew that lip bite. She was giddy.

The truth hit me like a sack of potatoes landing on me. My chest actually felt like it had caved in as the realization dawned on me. She wasn’t pulling away because I was seeing someone; she was pulling away because she was.

“Who’s that?”

“Noneya.”

Noneya was a shortened way to say none of your business. But this felt like my fucking business. She looked back down at her phone, and I knew the right thing to do would be to allow her to text flirt with Jonah I-played-in-the-NFL Walsh. That would be the mature thing to do. But I’d never been known for being particularly mature or for doing the right thing.

“You don’t have to tell me. I know who it is.”

She chuckled as her eyes dropped once again to her screen. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

She ignored me, which meant she thought I was full of shit. I was, but that wasn’t the point. Plus, I had a pretty good idea of who her mystery texter was.

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