I’ve had a short chat with Sienna, who seems nice, and I’ve stacked blocks with Zoey, who is just plain adorable, but…
Nylah Jones?
Yeah, I don’t know her.
“Baby.” Wily’s reprimand is soft. “Yes, you can. I’ll text Carson now and tell him not to leave without you.”
“But I don’t know Nylah.”
“You’ve seen her at Football Frat before.”
“No, I haven’t. I don’t even know what she looks like.”
“You know what Carson looks like, so just run downstairs and find him. He’ll be in my truck, and I know you know that beast. You’re running out of excuses, Satch. You can do this. I’ll let Carson know.”
And with that, he hangs up, and I’m left gripping the sides of my chair and trying to find the courage to go and ask this girl I don’t even know for a ride.
Plus her boyfriend, who is just a little bit scary.
Wily swears he’s a good guy, but Carson hardly ever smiles, and the few encounters I’ve had with him have been borderline terrifying.
No, they haven’t. Stop being so dramatic and get up!
Biting my lip, I really sink my teeth in, my body starting to quiver as I sit here staring at my door.
They’ll leave without you, and then Wily will be upset. You’ll miss out on time with him because you’re being a scaredy cat.
“Shit,” I mutter, forcing myself up and grabbing my coat before I can change my mind.
Cramming things into the pockets, I bolt out my door and rush to the elevator.
Crap, I may have missed my chance already. I took too long being indecisive, and now they’ve probably already left, and I’ll be standing on that curb feeling bummed out because I didn’t?—
“Hold the door!” I call, jumping into the elevator and giving the girl in front of me a polite smile.
She shifts to the very edge of the space and keeps her eyes trained on her phone.
The ride down is painful, and I spend the short time straightening my jacket and trying to remember how to breathe.
Ding!
The doors pop open and I dash out, seeing Wily’s truck through the glass doors and bolting for the exit.
A slender woman with a long black ponytail is walking toward Wily’s truck. She got a slight limp, but it’s not that noticeable. Not when her skintight jeans are showing off her perfect shape so beautifully. I can’t help admiring her size 6 butt as she waves at her boyfriend.
I hurry it up before I lose my nerve.
“Hey!” I call out as I hit the stairs, running down them… and, in my haste, miscalculating the last step. You know, the one I’ve been stepping off for months now. The one I’ve walked down a thousand times before.
Yeah, that one.
It gets the better of me and I tumble onto the cold concrete, my bare hands slapping onto the rough surface at the same time my knee lands with a crunch.
Humiliation rushes through me at about the same speed as the pain, but I’m pretty sure it hurts worse.
I am such a moron!
Letting out a soft whimper, laughter from my past echoes through me as I stay on my hands and knees and keep my head tucked down. Cold moisture is soaking into my sweatpants and crap. Am I seriously wearing sweatpants?