Page 18 of The Pucking Date
Then Liam’s gaze shifts—to Jessica. Then to me. Nosmile this time, just a look. Because Liam gets it. Maybe not everything, but enough.
When Jessica vanished after Montreal, I came undone. One minute, she was mine; I thought I’d finally broken through. The next, she pulled a full Houdini on me.
No note. No warning. Just gone.
Out of my mind, I went to Liam. Asked if Sophie knew anything. Pressed harder than I should’ve.
He told me Jessica was in Shanghai.
Shanghai, ladies and gentlemen. Like she’d picked the farthest point on the map to prove just how fine she could be without me.
Liam didn’t say much. He knew it wasn’t curiosity driving me, but desperation. And today, he knows I’m not just watching her.
I’m waiting. For what, I don’t even know. A sign. A shot. Another opening.
Nate turns to me, lifting his sunglasses. “Dude, explain why Jessica walked by this morning wearing what I assume wasyourT-shirt?”
I glance away, jaw tight.
Because I didn’t tell them about the outdoor shower. Or how her wet skin steamed under the moonlight. How she slipped my shirt on afterward, or how she looked at me, caught halfway between regret and surrender.
She was already gone by the time I made it back to the house, my shirt on her a claim I never staked.
And this morning? She didn’t return it. Didn’t mention it, either. Just sat there, cool and composed, number seventeen stretched across her back, sipping her coffee and driving me insane.
Taunting me. Testing me. Like she always does with the espresso waiting for me when I’m upstairs for a meeting.
She signals she’s interested but always says no when I ask her out. Every damn time. As if she’s measuring how far I’m willing to go, how much I’ll put in.
My hand fists the towel, jaw locked tight.
“Careful,” Nate drawls behind his sunglasses. “You’re about two seconds from bursting into flames.”
“Getting her to go out with me hasn’t exactly been easy,” I grunt, my voice low. “It’s like we keep hitting reset.”
Dmitri huffs. “She’s the forever kind. Worth the effort.”
He’s right. I don’t chase girls like Jessica Novak for a night.
She’s not fast. Not easy. Not forgettable. She’s the one you fight for.
And when I catch her again, it won’t be for a night. It’ll be for good.
The volleyball gamestarts as an escape. Turns into torture within minutes.
Dmitri tosses a volleyball into the air, barking, “Let’s go! Teams! We play now!”
Liam, ever the captain, steps in with a grin and claps his hands. “Alright, alright. Let’s make it interesting. Everyone on your feet, we’re splitting this up.”
There’s a bit of groaning, some beer bottles being reluctantly set down, and the rustling of sand-sticky towels. Jessica’s still lying on hers, propped up on one elbow, red bikini scandalous and intentional, nose buried in that book like she hasn’t noticed half the team now openly watching her.
Sheknowswe’re watching her.
Liam strolls past her, snags the book gently from herhand, and raises an eyebrow. “The Three-Body Problem? You’re such a nerd.”
“I like a challenge,” she replies coolly, not even bothering to take the book back. “And I’m not playing.”
“Yes, you are,” Liam says, walking away with her book tucked under his arm like he’s holding it hostage. “Get up, Novak.”
