Page 22 of Not a Perfect Save

“You’re picking Thai over tacos?” Jake looks as if I’ve announced that M&M’s will henceforth come in but a single color.

“I like Thai,” I say, defensive. And I do. But nothing ranks above Mexican in my book, and the guys all know it.

An hour and a half later,I’m outside Ella’s building. I opted to pick up the order instead of getting it delivered after the knowing looks from Jake and Logan, even going the extra forty-five minutes out of my way to keep from rushing to her place. All the while, I was telling myself this was a bad idea, that she’s already indicated she doesn’t want to see me again, that I shouldn’t bother pursuing someone clearly not interested.

But I know my instincts are right—therewasa spark of something there. Or am I deluding myself? A flicker of uncertainty crosses my mind, and I pause. It’s moments, minutes, millennia before I man up and hit the button for Ella’s apartment.

“Who is it?”

My stomach clenches at Ella’s voice.

I clear my throat.“It’s Connor.”

After a brief silence, the buzzer sounds. I bound up the five stories to her floor with more energy than I expended at practice today.

When I get upstairs, the door is ajar, and Ella is propped against the inside wall. Her freckles are stark against ashy skin. The shadows under her eyes are more pronounced than yesterday.

“What’s wrong?” Idrop the bag of food on the ground and rush to her. My hands come to either side of her face, and I lean down to examine her pupils. Is it the concussion?

Her green eyes are brilliant and clear as she grimaces and swats me away. “Nothing. I didn’t sleep very well.” I frown but release her and take a step back.

A furrow appears between her brows. “What are you doing here?”

I missed you.It doesn’t make sense. Our relationship spanned a grand total of twenty-four hours. I hadn’t quite planned how to explain my presence, but I open my mouth anyway, “I just—“

She sniffs, and her eyes widen. “Wait! Is that—?” Her eyes land on the bag I abandoned by the door.

“Thai food,” I say.

“Oh, my god. I love you!” A hug, followed by a quick peck on my cheek catches me by surprise. My chest puffs like a proud peacock, as if I’ve delivered a severed head and not just take out.

She grabs the bag with an agility that belies her crippled state and digs into it, ripping the brown paper in the process. I snatch it from her. “Manners, Miss Dixon.”

Ella huffs, but parks herself on the couch while I open the plastic containers on the coffee table. She eyes the spread as if it was a feast worthy of a George R. R. Martin novel.The way tothiswoman’s heart...

We sample dish after dish—I hadn’t known what her favorites were, so I ended up ordering way too much. Ella has a noodle hanging from the side of her mouth. She slurps it in, then takes a gulping swallow, making me laugh.

“So what were you doing in there?” she asks when she comes up for air.

“Hmm?”

“The bodega. I never asked.”

I fidget with my chopsticks. “You really want to know?”

She nods, taking another bite.

“Condoms,” I mumble.

She sputters and swallows. “You went in there to buy condoms?”

“Yep.”

“Must have been real desperate.” She eyes me with interest. It’s not my imagination when I see them dip to my crotch before sweeping back up.

I’m not embarrassed. Not really. But I grab a spring roll up, dunk it in sweet chili sauce, then tap her lips with the flaky appetizer. “Say ahh.”

A surprised expression crosses her face, but she opens her mouth and bites into the roll, shutting her up. Her eyes close in ecstasy. I swallow. Does she look like that when she comes?

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