Page 18 of Blindside Me
“Thanks for that.” Her words break whatever spell was between us.
“This isn’t—” I start but can’t finish. I didn’t even know what I was going to say.
She gets up, shouldering her bag like she’s already won. And maybe she has. Right before she gets to the door, she stops for a second and glances back.
“Just think about it,” she says. That smile of hers is all mischief and steel. But she still has one final hit in her. “Youcan pretend you don’t have feelings, but you flinched at that question.”
The door shuts behind her before I can respond.
And I’m left standing in a gym that suddenly feels way too quiet.
You flinched.
I rewind the tape again, tighter and harsher, but it doesn’t help.
Jade Howell lit a fuse I’ve spent years burying.
Now, I’m the one coming apart, and she didn’t even look back.
CHAPTER SIX
Jade
The corridor leading to Coach’s office is so quiet it’s almost creepy. Not that I expected a party at this hour, but the silence makes me nervous. If Dear Uncle knew I was here alone, he’d lose his mind. Whatever. I’m just going to slip the recorder back on his desk and vanish before anyone notices. In and out. No drama.
A totally normal errand. Not at all a desperate spiral into self-sabotage.
My hands shake as I pat the recorder in my purse, trying not to spill my coffee everywhere. Do I regret using Uncle’s instead of the papers? Not even a little. My excuse is solid. I ran late the day I interviewed Klaas, and trotting across campus to the newsroom would’ve added another thirty minutes. That was a risk I couldn’t take, given Klaas’s flightiness. The guy barely wanted to stick around as it was.
Still, the way he watched me that day, like he was weighing whether to let me in or shut me out, has haunted me ever since.
And now I’m here. Alone. With that same annoying flutter in my chest.
What’s worse? That I borrowed Coach’s recorder without asking, or that I can’t trust myself to be around Drew with any kind of boundary in place?
It’s just a guy. Just an interview. Just … the one person I can’t seem to get out of my head.
God, I hate that.
I hate that he managed to get under my skin without even trying.
But it’s ridiculous to be this nervous. I’m just returning a recorder. No big deal. What are the odds I’d run into Klaas at this hour? Practically nil. Besides, I’m being responsible. A total professional. I am in control-ish.
I grip the coffee cup tighter as I pass the locker room and turn the corner.
Oof.
I slam right into a wall of sweaty muscle.
The lid pops off.
Coffee goes flying.
Directly onto Drew Klaas’s crotch.
“Shit!” He jumps back, grabbing at his waistband and staggering back, face twisting into the most undignified look I’ve ever seen on him.
I freeze, horrified. “Oh my God?—”
