"Hi," I squeak, feeling like a tiny mouse right in the fox's path.
My heart thunders in my chest as the skin of my neck burns, remembering his fingers wrapped around it last night.
Oh God.
But then something unexpected happens.
His lips twitch at one side of his mouth before it curls into a smile. It’s not just any smile, but one that would knock most women on their asses with how beautiful it is.
My stomach somersaults and my chest burns red hot.
"I-I-I'm s-sorry," I stutter like an imbecile. "I-I wasn't l-look—"
"It's okay, Red." His eyes drop from mine momentarily in favor of my lips and I suck in a shocked, sharp breath. "Entirely my fault. I wasn't paying attention."
"Uh…"
He stands there staring down at me, blocking my exit, waiting for me to do… I've got no idea.
"C-can I buy you a sandwich to apologize?" I ask, knowing that it's entirely unnecessary because we both know it was an accident, but the awkward, polite girl inside me screams to do something to make this better.
"I can buy my own. How about you eat it with me though," he suggests, making my stomach damn near drop into my feet.
"Y-you want to eat your sandwich… w-with me?"
"Yeah," he confirms, staring at me like I'm some magical creature he can't figure out.
"Why?"
He shrugs. "I feel like it."
"But you're a football player."
"Ah, someone's been doing their homework. I'm glad I made an impression on you last night."
"N-no, I didn't—"
"Turkey sub, please," he says, interrupting me and turning to look at Paulo who I now discover is watching this weird exchange with an amused smile on his face.
"Of course. Sorry about your last season. Must have been tough."
"Yeah, well. Can't win them all, eh?"
"Better luck next season. I see that Jake Thorn is joining the team. Your brother is going to have his work cut out for him."
I stand there watching them chat about football with alarm bells ringing in my head.
I shouldn’t have agreed to eat with him. I know it's only a sandwich, but still. He's a football player and I should run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. Not to mention that I saw his ass last night before he almost screwed Charlie.
Hoping that they're distracted by the topic of the upcoming season and the new players who will be joining the Panthers, I take a step around Leon in the hope of bolting from the shop and hiding in the park around the corner.
But just as I'm about to pass him, his arm shoots out, stopping my progress.
"No running, Red," he growls so quietly that Paulo won't have heard it.
Leon's eyes hold mine, the emerald green darkening the longer our connection holds.
"Here you go, superstar," Paulo says, but even still, Leon doesn't look away from me.