Page 44 of The Obvious Check

“I know you want to say something. Just say it so I can clean these dishes in peace.”

A slow smile forms on her face. “I like her.”

“You met her for all of thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, but I’ve known you for longer and the way you changed around her lets me know she’s someone special. I can’t wait to learn more about her.”

“Mhm.”

I’d like to learn more about her too, but I think she’s going to do everything possible to stop me.

Chapter 11

The hotel hallway is quiet, broken only by the muffled sounds of our teammates talking in the community area. I stand near the door to my room, scrolling through messages on my phone even though my attention isn’t really on the screen. Should’ve been thinking about the game. Should’ve been talking strategy with the rest of my line, getting my focus locked in. Instead, my mind is somewhere else.

On Savannah.

What's she doing right now? Is she back at Luke's club being paraded around like merchandise? Will she sleep in her car again tonight, curled up in that makeshift bed while creeps lurk in parking lots? I hated leaving it the way I did, but she didn't give me any other option except physical restraint, and I'm not that guy. I don't even have her phone number, so I can't text her and make sure she's okay, though that prehistoric brick she calls a phone probably doesn't even get texts. Getting her digits is the first thing I plan on doing when I get back, even if I have to corner her in class to do it.

Scotty brushes past me, and I stop him in his tracks.

“Hey, Scotty.”

He hides his phone faster than a teenager caught watching porn before looking over his shoulder at me. If he thought I was going to mock him for the full-sized picture of that girl he's been obsessing over on his screen, he'd be wrong. How can I make fun of him when I've got it just as bad? When I'm practically counting the hours until I can get back to campus and hunt down a girl who's actively running from me?

“What’s the room situation? Who’s my partner tonight?”

Scotty grins without looking up. “Same as always. You’re with Dash.”

“Really?”

Scotty doesn’t say anything. Just grins like an idiot. Fucking fantastic. The idea of spending the night in close quarters with Dash doesn’t exactly thrill me. I can’t hide anything from him. Never could. He’ll know something is wrong the second I walk in and unlike Madison, he’ll pry it out of me.

“Switch me,” I say immediately, bracing for the response I know is coming.

“No can do.” Scotty shrugs. “It’s alphabetical.”

“So? We can switch. Let’s do it by line instead. I’d love to spend the night with you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sorry. Everyone else is already in their rooms. Plus,” he adds, raising an eyebrow, “I think you two need to talk things through.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” My jaw locks, the tension I’ve barely been holding in almost ready to snap. “We’re fine.”

“Whatever you say.” His tone makes it clear he believes exactly none of it. “But if you two don’t figure out your shit soon, it’s going to bleed into the games. We need you both at your best tomorrow.” He claps a hand on my shoulder before heading toward his own room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stand there for a moment, debating whether to just suck it up or find an excuse to stay somewhere else. But deep down, I know Scotty’s right. This tension with Dash is getting old, and it’s not doing any of us any good. He’s my best friend and as much as I hate to admit it, I need his advice.

With a resigned sigh, I head to my room and push the door open a crack.

“If your foam roller’s out, I kindly request you stop all foreplay with it,” I say because that’s something I would have said to my friend before all this drama happened between us.

“Cade?” His voice is gruff, but I don’t hear a lot of movement, so that’s a relief. At least he’s not cheating on Madison with that damn thing.

When I step inside, Dash is stretched out on his bed, phone in hand, and was no doubt texting my sister. I guess I could consider myself lucky. Now that Madison has him to occupy her time, my phone doesn’t get nearly as many messages from her.

He tosses his phone to the side. “Hey,” he says, his tone cautious.

“Don’t stop texting Madison on my account,” I reply, dropping my bag on the other bed.

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