Page 71 of Blindside Me
I dry off and recheck my phone. The same message taunts me. First, I need to get dressed and get to class. Then, I’ll find him. And I know right where to look.
I grab my favorite leggings that hug my curves in all the right places, a soft tank top that makes my eyes look bluer, and combat boots that make me feel taller and more confident.
Before I leave, I glance at my sketchbook one last time. At the evidence of how thoroughly Drew Klaas has invaded my thoughts. My art has always been my most honest confession.
Time to make him confess, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jade
I find Drew exactly where I knew he’d be, in the back, near the free weights, punishing his body like it’d drown out everything else. He’s drenched in sweat, headphones jammed in, slamming through a set like the devil’s chasing him. Maybe he is.
I stand there for a second, just watching. The angry lines of his muscles. The tight set of his jaw. The way he refuses to look at anything, as if he keeps moving fast enough, he won’t have to feel whatever’s tearing him apart inside.
I cross the gym floor, nerves buzzing like a live wire, voice steady. “You know, most people just do yoga when they’re having an existential crisis.”
He yanks out one earbud. A smirk forms on his lips, but he doesn’t sit up.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice is low and teasing, but damn, he looks good. His black T-shirt is soaked through, clinging to the hard planes of his chest and back like a second skin. And those gray sweats? They showcase his favorable genetics. It’s a struggle to keep my gaze upwards.
“Too bad,” I fire back, stepping closer, my shoes scuffing against the mat. “Get used to random intrusions.”
He finally lifts his head, and the world narrows to just this when our eyes lock.
No noise. No gym. No other people.
Just him. Just me.
And the hurricane of feelings brewing between us.
“You really shouldn’t be here.” He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat off his face. “I’m serious. Coach has eyes everywhere.”
“There’s no one here, now.” I glance around the room and add, “Besides, I just came to work out.”
His gaze sweeps over my tank top, leggings, and boots. Not exactly dressed for heavy lifting, but passable gym attire nonetheless. “With no water bottle? No towel? No plan?”
Drew and his plans.
I shrug. “Some of us don’t need a NASA-engineered spreadsheet to exercise. Some of us just move our bodies when it feels good.”
His lips twitch. “Just move when it feels good, huh?”
“Mmm.”
“I definitely can make you feel good.”
“Think so, huh?”
“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”
I move closer but come to a halt when the massive bruise on his shoulder takes center stage. “What the hell happened?”
He glances at his shoulder. “Ran into the wall during practice.”
It takes all of my strength not to rush over there and tend to him. He’s a hockey player. This is one bruise of many. But damn if I don’t want to play nurse maiden.
“That looks brutal.”
