Page 9 of Captured Heart

“No problem.”

I hand his phone back, and I’m about to walk away when I realize it would be easier and less awkward if I use Corey to get to Katelyn. “Hey, can I ask a favor? Do you mind meeting me at thegym later and introducing me to Katelyn? I’m not really good at talking to girls, and I’m scared I might blow it.”

He chuckles. “You don’t have a chance either way. I’m telling you, dude, she’s not interested. About seven or eight guys have asked her out since she broke up with Jason and her answer is always no.”

“I’m not going to ask her out. I told you...I’m hoping we can...just be friends.”

“Yeah, right.” He half laughs, half snorts. “But your desperation is very evident and kinda off-putting, so I think having me there as a wingman might do you good.”

“Thanks, Corey. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send you a pin location for the gym. Meet me there at five.”

We exchange numbers before he walks off, and I feel pretty proud of myself. I didn’t devise the greatest plan, but it seems to be working out just fine so far.

I TAKE COREY’S FIRSTimpression of me into account when I change into some gym clothes. A long-sleeve snug-fitting sweatshirt to hide my tattoos and a cap back-to-front to cover the buzz cut. It’s about all I can do to make me look less like a convict.

The university pass Victor gave me allows me access to the campus gym, and I find Corey closer to the back, bench-pressing with some other dude standing behind him.

“Hey, Corey,” I say as I approach them.

He glances at me, hissing out a breath as he struggles to lift the bar and hook back onto the handles. “And...thirty.”

“That was only two, dude,” the other guy says.

Corey lets out a huff and stands up. “Thirty...two.”

His friend opens his mouth to argue but shuts it when Corey shoots him a look.

“John, this is my friend Zayn Patel. Zayn, John.” He gives us a moment to shake hands, then turns his attention to Zayn. “John’s a little sweet on Katelyn. He has trouble talking to the ladies, so...” He shrugs as if he was just given thePlayer of the Year Award. “...of course, he asked for my help.”

He says it with the confidence of a guy who didn’t damn near piss himself when I cornered him in the library earlier. I say nothing about it, and after shaking Zayn’s hand and making idle chit-chat for a minute or two, Zayn offers to spot me. We do a set of twelve each, and I try to show Corey how to keep his form right without throwing his back out. I’m just about to sit on the bench for my next set when I spot her walking into the gym.

She’s easy to notice, not because she’s loud or flashy. In fact, the long gray gym tights and loose-fitting white T-shirt aren’t the type of clothes anyone would wear to garner attention. Yet somehow, she hasallof mine.

I’ve been hit a good few times in my life, so I know how it feels to take a punch. But I gotta say, seeing her in person knocks the fucking wind out of me. Her picture didn’t do her any justice. Not even close.

She moves with this subtle confidence that makes it seem like she’s gliding through the room. Her hair is neatly tied back in a ponytail, a few loose tendrils hanging around her face. Dark, thick lashes frame her almond-colored eyes. They hold a quiet intelligence...and warmth. I recognize that almost immediately becausewarmthis something I haven’t seen or felt since my mom died.

It’s weird. There’s nothing specific about her that makes her stand out, so I don’t understand why I can’t take my eyes off her. Maybe it’s her simplicity that I find so captivating. I’ve lived a hard life. It’s been wild and unpredictable. Complicated.And that simplicity appeals to the part of me that’s yearning for something normal.

“Oh, hey, Katelyn,” Corey greets.

Her lips quirk up as she walks toward us, and that same warmth is carried in her smile. “Hi, Corey. Hey, Zayn.” Her eyebrows crease as she focuses on Corey. “What are you doing here? I don’t think I’veeverseen you at the gym. Zayn usually works out alone.”

“He wanted some company today.”

Zayn’s brows furrow together in confusion. “I did?”

“Yeah, you did. Remember, you called me and...” Corey abandons the lie midway when it gets too convoluted and tries another one. “Anyway, me and my buddy were just hanging out, and we thought we’d...pull up.”

“I see.” She’s still a little skeptical when her questioning eyes move to me. “And does your buddy have a name?”

“John,” I reply.

The smile she gives me is a mixture of playfulness and intrigue. “Just John?”

“John...” I pause before I sayTurner. That was the name I used for years, saying it so often I almost forgot my own. I don’t want to get so lost in this job that I forget who I am again. I don’t want to be John Turner. He was cold and ruthless, and that’s not who I want to be anymore. Instead, I choose something that’s going to ground me, something that ties me to the real me. “John...Alexander.”

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