Page 21 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

I stared at her for a moment, wondering how I’d let that slip—I’d been so focused on how much it annoyed me to watch Jeff flirt with her. Not that Megan was some big secret, but first it’d be talking about my sister, and then that would lead to the confession my parents had died, and it’d only start an avalanche of crap I didn’t want to go into. I couldn’t exactly ignore her question without more questions now, though. “Yeah. She’s sixteen.” I hiked the strap of my duffel bag higher on my shoulder. “I need to hit the road. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

I started toward the east exit, but Lyla stayed next to Jeff. “Um, I’m the other way.”

“Me, too,” Jeff said. He put his hand on Lyla’s back. “I’ll walk you out.”

The blood pumping through my veins turned toxic. I was totally losing it. Lyla held up a finger to him, stepped down the bleachers to me, and looped her arms around my neck. “I just wanted to say good job on the game again,” she said. “Thanks for inviting me and taking care of the ticket.”

Unable to help myself, I wrapped an arm around her to hug her back, sliding it under the coat instead of over like I should, noticing that my fingers fit perfectly on the curve of her hip. The desire from earlier grew exponentially with her body against mine, a searing trail chasing away the exhaustion from the game. Calling another girl for a meaningless hookup no longer appealed to me—I didn’t want usual. I wanted smart and funny, big hazel eyes, and sexy curves.

You can never go there, Davenport, so stop thinking about it.

“And…well,” Lyla continued, “I know you already wasted a ton of time on my list this week, but I appreciate it.”

My heart tugged, wanting me to take back what I’d said, while my brain shouted to keep up the wall—to put space between us ASAP.

Shit, shit, shit. I’m seconds from ruining everything.

“No worries,” I said. “I had fun, too. I’ve just got homework to catch up on.”

“I do owe you, so if you need help, you know where to find me.” She started to pull back, then leaned in again and whispered, “How long till Jeff stops being a stranger? Do you think I have to kiss him tonight to cross off number three?”

My hand stilled on her back, and I curled my other one into a fist. “You don’t have to kiss anyone you don’t want to, Lyla. Why don’t you forget the list?”

She frowned, that damned stubborn determination set in her features. “No way. I already made a fool of myself earlier today, but I pushed through and decided to try again instead of letting it stop me, and it actuallyworked. Do you know how long it’s been since someone asked me out?” She shot Jeff a grin over her shoulder and then lowered her voice and said, “I think I’m just going to kiss him tonight.”

Everything in me screamed to tell her not to. Jealousy reared its head again, and it had big jagged teeth that it wanted to sink into Jeff. But Lyla was on her road to self-discovery, or self-wreckage, or whatever the hell it was, and I wasn’t her boyfriend.

I didn’t want to be her boyfriend.

Anyway, Ishouldn’twant to be her boyfriend.

If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was relationships end in disaster, and I wasn’t screwing up someone as sweet as Lyla. I’d warned Jeff to treat her right, and while looking at him right now made me want to punch him, he’d be a decent guy for her to kiss.

I exhaled, careful to keep my voice level as I attempted to muzzle the jealousy. “I think he still counts as a stranger. After you force him to watch chick flicks, he’s for sure an acquaintance.”

A slow smile curved her lips, and it shot me right through the chest. “Thanks, Beck. But just so you know, you’re not getting out of those last twoTwilightmovies.”

She gave me an attack hug and then bounded over to Jeff.

And all I could do was stand there, hating Jeff a little more by the second and being pissed at myself for canceling this week’s movie night so she couldn’t follow through on herTwilightthreat for another eight long days.

Chapter Thirteen

Lyla

“So, you and Beck have been friends for a while, then?” Jeff asked as we exited the hockey arena.

“Yeah, I met him in a class at the beginning of the year, and it didn’t take long for us to become friends.” Which was why I knew something was off tonight. Or maybe he was always like that after games. Amped up from victory and the thrill of playing or whatever. Except it was more like he was antsy… Maybe the excess adrenaline pumping through his veins made it hard for him to focus or stand around talking.

The first time he’d slammed a guy from the other team into the glass—right in front of where I was sitting—I’d jumped. Beck was already a big guy, and with those hockey pads on, he’d seemed larger than life. If I’d seen that competitive glint enter his blue eyes when he’d stood across from me, I would’ve run—or skated, as it were—in the opposite direction. He’d thrown other large dudes around like they were ragdolls, and scored three points overall, including the winning goal.

While I’d always considered myself more of a peaceful and can’t-we-all-just-get-along person, I had to admit there was something hot about watching guys so hopped up on testosterone fighting over a puck and slamming into each other.

I was really trying to think of it as guysand not Beck. I’d done so well all day, through our greasy breakfast served by a guy who must’ve been a huge fan of pancakes or maybe a fanatical hockey fan, because he’d given Beck an enthusiastic thumbs-up for just being there. Then I’d gone and put myself out there at the library, not even a second thought to Beck besides his flirting advice. Alcohol-induced lust—that was where last night’s fleeting attraction had come from. And the nonstop thinking about his eyes…well, they were what people talked about when they said piercing blue eyes. I’d have to be blind not to notice them.

But watching him play hockey and then the hug after the game, his fingers splayed across my hip… There’d been completely sober butterflies breaking free and flapping their wings. Even now they stirred, somersaulting in my stomach and rising up to flit around my heart.

“Is that about how most of the games go? Back and forth so fast like that?” I asked Jeff, forcing myself to be in the moment so I didn’t screw it up with a guy I might actually have a chance with. “Or was that team extra rough?”

---