Page 92 of Falling Offsides

Across the table, Auguste shifts. His hand reaches out, smooth and deliberate, and takes the napkin from Jayden. He folds it once. Twice. Then sets it down hard on the far side of the table.

That’s it. Not a single word is said.

But his jaw? Rock solid.

His eyes? Lethal.

I pretend not to notice, except my breath betrays me, catching in my throat.

The table keeps teasing, pushing me to sing. Matheo’s already queuing songs when I stand abruptly.

“Bathroom,” I say, voice tight. “Before you maniacs rope me into something humiliating.”

“Want company?” Cecelia asks with an are-you-okay furrow of her brows.

“Nah, I’m good…” Or I will be once I give myself the talking to I need to hold tight to my resistance.

Last night was just a blip. It’s not going to happen again. Even if the voice in my head is screamingliarat the top of its lungs. Last night cannot happen again. For both mine and Auguste’s sakes. Because a man like him is way too overwhelming for someone like me. He’s shown me enough possessive red flags that I should be running at this point.

And I am.

That’s what I’m doing as I rush towards the bathroom.

“Warm up those pipes!” Jordan calls after me.

I wave him off and push through the crowd, my pulse thudding too fast now.

The hallway is cooler. Quieter. The bass of the music fades behind me as I step farther into the dim corridor.

I’m nearly at the bathroom door when I hear it.

“Hey.”

I freeze. Then, I turn.

There he is—napkin guy. Drink in hand. Grinning from ear to ear.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, lifting his hands casually, like it’s no big deal he’s followed me out here. “I figured asking in-person would be better.”

It isn’t. I take a step back as he comes closer.

“Figured I should pitch our duet properly.”

“Thank you, but I don’t sing in public,” I say, my voice firm. But even as the words leave my mouth, I feel something shift inside me—a kind of nervousness I don’t want to admit.

He gives a little laugh, taking a step closer. “Come on. One duet. You’ve got the look.” The top to toe stare he drags down my body is very clear on what he means byI have the look. “I bet you’ve got the voice, too. I’m calling it now—Total Eclipseis your song.”

“No… thank you.” My throat tightens as I sidestep, my hand reaching for the bathroom door, desperate to end this conversation before it goes any further.

But then—he touches my shoulder.

It’s light. Barely there. But it stops me cold.

I freeze, my breath catching.

“Just one song,” he presses, his voice too smooth. Too insistent.

“I said no,” I snap, right as he disappears.

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