Page 27 of The Chase

He groans. “Don’t rub it in, Blondie.”

“Sorry, I had to. You were so cocky that night, acting like any girl you kissed at midnight would demand to have your babies.” I stick out my tongue. “Well, who’s the one who wants to havemybabies? You!”

His shoulders shake with laughter.

I slide off the desk. “Tables have turned,” I say in a singsong voice.

Hunter gets to his feet. He’s taller than I remember, standing at well over six feet. Same with Fitz, but I suppose most hockey players have the height advantage. There’s one guy on the Briar team who’s five-nine, though. I think his name is Wilkins. One time I heard Dean raving about how tough he is considering his size.

“Don’t worry,” Hunter says. “I’m not thinking about babies just yet.”

“No? What are you thinking about, then?”

He doesn’t respond. Those dark eyes lower to my chestbefore flicking back to my face. I’m not wearing a bra. He definitely noticed.

And I’m definitely noticing that his sweatpants seem a bit tighter in the crotch area than they were two minutes ago.

When he noticesmenoticing, he coughs and angles his body slightly.

A sigh flutters out of my throat. “You’re not going to make this weird, are you?”

Two ridiculously adorable dimples cut into his chiseled cheeks. “Define weird.”

“I don’t know. Be awkward? Tiptoe around me?”

He takes another step toward me. “Does it look like I’m tiptoeing?” he drawls.

My heart beats faster. Damn, he’s smooth. “Okay. Then are you going to get all lovesick? Write poetry about me and cook me breakfast?”

“Poetry isn’t my style. And I can’t cook for shit.” He edges closer, until our faces are inches apart. “I’m happy to make you coffee in the morning, though.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” I say smugly.

His answering chuckle brings out his dimples again. “I can already tell you’re going to make this hard for me, eh?”

“This?” I echo warily. “And what exactly isthis?”

He slants his head, contemplating for a beat. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. His breath tickles my ear as he leans in to murmur into it. “But I’m kind of excited to find out.”

Hunter’s fingertips lightly graze my bare arm. Then, before I can blink, he’s sliding out the door.

__________

My new neighborhood is a vow of silence convent compared to the Kappa house at Brown. At one in the morning, the only sound beyond my bedroom window is the occasional cricket. No car engines, no music, no shrieky drunken sorority girls or loud-mouthed frat boys egging each other on during a rowdy game of beer pong.

I have to admit, I find it unsettling. Silence is not my friend. Silence forces you to examine your own mind. To face the thoughts you pushed aside during the day or the worries you hoped would go away, the secrets you tried to keep.

I’m not a fan of my own thoughts. They tend to be a jumble of insecurity, mixed with self-doubt, a splash of inner critic, and a sprinkling of misplaced over-confidence. It’s a fucked-up place, my mind.

I roll over and groan into my pillow. The muffled noise is like a blast of gunfire in the eerily quiet room. I can’t sleep. I’ve been tossing and turning since eleven thirty and it’s really starting to tick me off. I slept just fine when the guys were in Vermont. I don’t get why their presence ought to change that.

Trying to force sleep is pointless, so I kick the comforter off and stumble out of bed. Screw it. I’m getting something to eat. Maybe it’ll send me into a food coma afterward.

Since I sleep in nothing but panties, I grab the first item of clothing I find. It happens to be a thin white T-shirt that shows the outline of my nipples and barely covers my thighs. I slip it on anyway, because I doubt my roomies will be awake to see it. Hunter said they have a six a.m. practice.

But I’m wrong. One roomie is very much awake.

Fitzy and I both release startled noises when our gazes collide in the kitchen.

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