Page 25 of The Quarterback Sneak

Sighing, I shove my phone back into my bag without responding. I should have mentioned it to her over the weekend. I was a little too unsure and maybe too embarrassed to tell her until Zach and I talked it through.

Although, if the last twenty-four hours are anything to go by, maybe I was right to be cautious. I need to speak to her today, though. I’d rather not get between her and Mike over some stupid bet.

Suddenly, an arm curves around me, and a hand grasps the doorknob in front of me. I don’t have to turn around to recognize the clunky designer shoes or the overpowering cologne.

“Honey.” Jamie’s deep, husky voice spreads to my toes. It’s only been a few weeks since we spoke, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime of isolation.

“What do you want?” I grit out.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” His smile fades at the annoyance in my voice.

Checking my watch, I saddle my bag farther up my shoulder and clutch my books to my chest. “Well, you’re about a week too late for me to care.”

His shoulders slump, his eyes searching mine like they used to do when I thought he actually liked me. “Come on, Hon. I’d really like to talk to you.”

A student sneaks past us, cutting off the tension between us and giving me more time to think. As much as I wanted Jamie to explain everything at first, I want nothing to do with him now.

I take a few steps back, but he tries to lace his hand with mine before I get too far. Snatching my arm away, I look down at his hand with my lip curled. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

He raises his hands, then runs one through his floppy brown hair. Dropping both arms, he sighs as though he’s disappointed in me. “You’re right. I’m sorry, but there are some things I need to talk to you about. I know it’s not an ideal time, but my conscience won’t be clean if I don’t tell you.”

I raise a brow. He wants to talk to me about a guilty conscience? Now? What a load of crap. Standing there, I wait for an explanation, but I get nothing. “Sorry, Jamie. I’ve got studyhall.” Stepping toward the door, he follows, blocking me from the entry.

“It’s about Zach.” Staring at his perfectly pressed shirt, I don’t move because this is an interesting development. Of course he ignores me until he hears that I might be moving on.

“What about him?”

I look up, and the grin tells me everything I need to know. He thinks he’s got me.

“Come with me and find out.” He holds out his hand, and I stare at it. Does he really think I’m so in love with him that I’ll melt at anything he says? His fingers wiggle suggestively when I don’t take them immediately. Apparently so.

Watching his fingers dance, I say, “Fine.” I shunt past him, away from my class, instead of taking his hand. “You’ve got five minutes, but that’s it.”

He follows me until I get to a quiet corner under the stairs. Spinning on my heels, I cross my arms and tilt my chin up. “Five minutes starts now.”

Jamie laughs, scanning my body before our eyes connect, and he offers me a goofy grin. The same one that used to make my stomach flip.

“What’s going on with you and Zach?” he asks.

“You can’t be serious?” I knew this conversation would be about Zach, but I had the tiniest bit of hope that he might want to at least mention what happened between us. “That’s the first thing you’re going to ask me after I get sent a video of you making out with another girl? No ‘I’m sorry, Honey. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of everyone’?”

Jamie stares at me blankly, probably surprised at how much my voice cracked at the end of that question. “No ‘I don’t know what came over me’? Do you care that you literally ripped my heart out, stuffed it in a blender, and then tried to give it back to me?”

Tears I’d been holding back for the last few weeks are threatening to fall, so I stop talking to try and regain some composure.

His brows rise, and his deep, dark eyes bore into mine. Pain ricochets through my body, and it feels like he’s hurt me all over again. “Honey… I—”

I raise my hand, halting his words. “Save it. I don’t want your apology now, not after having to ask for it. Agreeing to talk to you was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have bothered.”

Shoving past him, Jamie calls from behind me, “He’s not interested in you.” My ears perk up. Is he going to tell me about the bet? That would be the decent thing to do, but Jamie hasn’t been decent in a long time.

I spin on my heel. “Oh really? What makes you think that? Because the way he touched me on Friday told me something completely different.” Jamie grimaces, but I don’t let that inflate my ego.

“Yeah, about that,” he drawls out. “I’m sorry, Honey, but the only reason he kissed you was because he was making a point to me.”

“Oh yeah?” I hold back how I feel about his unapologetic face because I want to see if he’ll be the Jamie I thought I knew and tell me about the bet. “And what point would that be?”

He contemplates his words, and a tiny part of me hopes he chooses to say something. “He wants to prove he can take what’s mine.”

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