Page 43 of Presley's Christmas Catch
“Curse of the Obsidian Flame, book three.” He answers automatically, and if there was ever any doubt about him being an actual TOK fan, it’s completely gone.
“Oooo!” Presley says from beside me. “That’s the one where Lyra and Kael kiss for the first time. It’s my favorite too.”
For the second time, Presley has made another fan go completely red. The boy scrubs the back of his neck. “That’s not why,” he says quickly.
Presley pinches her lips together. “Of course not.”
The boy waves at me with the notebook. “Thanks, bro.” Then he holds out three fingers and presses them against his heart in the Eldraeth sign of brotherhood. I grin, giving the gesture back before he melts into the crowd.
“Oh, my goodness. He’s the cutest,” Presley breathes from beside me. She’s in heaven, surrounded by fans of her favorite series, and after signing the notebook for that kid, so am I.
She tugs on my arm, standing on her tiptoes, indicating she wants to tell me something. I tilt my head toward her.
“Bella wants your number,” she whispers.
I glance to where Bella is standing with an elbow on top of a bookshelf, looking bored. She meets my gaze and instantly brightens.
“Why didn’t she ask?” I whisper back.
Presley huffs out a breath that sounds like a laugh. “She was flirting. Obviously.”
Now I’m careful not to look at Bella again. “Flirting?” I ask skeptically. “She just talked about books.”
Presley raises an eyebrow. “Chat with me after you’ve readA Court of Thorns and Roses, and we’ll visit her intentions again.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She smirks.
My phone dings, and I pull it out to see a text from Lincoln.
Lincoln:Hope you don’t mind being outed.
He attaches a screenshot of a social media post. It’s a picture of me talking to Sapphira and Alexis and is accompanied by a caption that says:New Rays Left Tackle, Brock Hunter, is a fan of The Obsidian Kingdom series! No way! Girlfriend just sent this to me from where she’s at some signing for the series.I’m tagged in the post, so I log in to Instagram to check it out. My heart sinks when I notice dozens of comments talking about how they’re near enough to check this out. There are also plenty of comments saying how much they love that a football player isn’t shy about reading some weird fantasy novel or showing up to be a super fan. But it also explains why there are a lot more people in this bookstore than Sapphira and Alexis probably planned. And as I look around, I notice that there are far more people here with t-shirts from various teams across the league—mostly New York Empire merch but a few Devils t-shirts and even a Rays one.
Presley suddenly slams into my side, and someone nearby says, “Oh, sorry.” But people still push in. I’ve been zoned out while I look at the Instagram photo, but people are calling out my name, plenty who can’t get near me because we’re packed like sardines in here.
I quickly slip an arm around Presley. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she chirps from where her face is now pressed into my ribs. She giggles.
“This is insane, Pres,” I mutter.
She laughs again. “Says the guy who attracted half the people here. At least. Maybe most.”
I huff in annoyance. This was supposed to be a day for me and Presley to celebrate our favorite book series finally getting completed. It’s not turning out how I thought. “I’m a left tackle. This makes no sense. The only time people care about me is when I throw a tantrum and it makes a good meme.”
“You’re also a pro-football player, and I think that peoplewho aren’t around them all the time think that’s cool. I wouldn’t know.” She winks at me in a dorky way, making me laugh.
“Brock!” a woman shouts, pushing through the crowd and earning a lot of scowls and swear words, which she doesn’t seem to care about. “Can you sign my jersey?”
It’s my old one, from the Devils, and she points to her chest with one hand while waving a Sharpie at me with the other. She elbows someone aside to get closer, and it starts a domino effect. Before I can blink, Presley gets shoved to the floor with a cry of surprise.
I react instantly, scooping an arm under her back and hauling her up into my arms. No way is she getting trampled in this madness. I hold her close against me, my heart pumping fast with fear at how close she came to getting seriously hurt. Despite that scare, people are still jostling around me.
Instinct takes over. I swing Presley’s legs up into my arms. “Make a path,” I demand, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, it’s done.
CHAPTER 18
