Page 5 of The Hearts We Fumble
If this were five years ago, I would’ve been falling over myself at the thought of having Zane’s attention on me.
I’ve had a crush on him since the day we moved into the house next door. And if I thought Colter’s overprotectiveness was frustrating?
Then Zane Kinnick is a whole different kind of infuriating.
I learned not to read into his words a long time ago.
It was easy to convince myself that he cared more than he let on—that if he was going to take after Colter and scare off any guy who so much as glanced in my direction, then surely whatever I thought what I felt between us meant something.
I was wrong.
Like I said, Zane Kinnick sees me as nothing more than Colter’s kid sister.
His loyalty to my brother is unbreakable, a bond stronger than anything that ever could’ve sparked between us. And I—stupidly—once thought he might give in to the temptation I swore burned between us.
But I know better now.
I drop onto the cold bench, tapping open the Uber app, only to have Zane’s sharp voice cut through the morning air.
“Why the hell are you sitting at the bus stop?”
I don’t even look up, crossing one leg over the other as I enter my ride request. “Umm… waiting for a ride?” I hold out a hand as if it isn’t blatantly obvious already.
He glares. His eyes flicker around like he’s looking for some logical explanation for why I’m here.
“Where’s your car?”
I sigh, long and dramatic, before finally leveling him with a look.
“Christ almighty, Zane, will you lay off? Geez, I don’t have the patience for you this early in the morning without at least one cup of coffee. Actually, scratch that—with you, let’s make it two.”
His jaw flexes, but his gaze snags on something, and I don’t miss the way his eyes darken, the heat behind them shifting into something heavier.
It takes me a second to realize what he’s staring at.
My stomach drops.
Oh shit.
I glance down, finally remembering what the hell I’m wearing.
A T-shirt. But not just any T-shirt.
A freaking Keaton shirt with Calloway’s number on it.
I’d grabbed it in a hurry, thrown it on without a second thought, not even remembering that I’d borrowed it to sleep in after the party.
But Zane?
Oh, he notices. He notices everything.
His entire demeanor changes, his fingers flexing at his sides, his nostrils flaring like he’s barely holding himself back from saying something he’ll regret.
But instead of calling me out, instead of shoving his frustration into words, he steps forward—and before I can react, he snatches my phone right out of my hand.
“What the hell, Zane?” I jolt up, reaching for it, but he angles away, thumbing over my screen. “Give that back to me.”
He doesn’t.
