Page 91 of Blindside Me
I slide my toothbrush into its holder and check my phone for the hundredth time. Still nothing from Drew. The team should be back from their away game by now, but my screen remains stubbornly blank. I tap it once, twice, as if the force of my thumb will conjure a text out of thin air. Nothing. Nada. I tap it again, because apparently, I’m a masochist.
Last night’s messages replay in my mind, especially the photo of Drew in those gray sweats. The outline of him was so clear I’d felt my mouth go dry. Wearing those in public should be illegal.
I toss my phone onto my bed before I embarrass myself by texting first.
Callie’s side of the room sits empty, her scrawled note about grabbing coffee still stuck on her desk lamp. I’m grateful for the silence, but the dorm feels too quiet, like every little sound echoes louder than it should.
Boots scrape to a halt; every muscle locks. They move on, and I let the air go.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Drew Klaas, along with all other athletes, was just another name on my hypothetical do-not-date list three weeks ago. Now, I can’t stop thinking about how his hands feel on my skin.
I grab my journal and try to write, hoping my fictional world will quiet my racing thoughts.
My phone buzzes and I quickly answer it without looking to see who’s Facetiming me.
“Hey!” My smile dies when Roman’s face appears, framed by a Colorado dorm room. His sharp jaw and sharper eyes are the same, but there’s a strain in his expression, like he’s holding onto something slipping away.
“Jade,” he says, voice too smooth, like he still has a claim. “Didn’t expect you to pick up.”
“What do you want, Roman?” I snap, leaning against my dorm desk, the vision board behind me a reminder of dreams he’s not part of. His latest text:You really think you’re better off without me? We were good, still boils under my skin. “Your texts are pathetic.”
His smirk falters with a flicker of regret crossing his face. “You think you can just walk away? Act like I was nothing?” He leans closer to the camera, eyes narrowing. “I see you with Klaas, Cessna’s golden boy, strutting like he’s already NHL-bound. You picked him over me?”
I laugh, sharp and cold. “You cheated, Roman. You lied. I didn’t pick anyone. I chose myself.”
His jaw clenches, and the bitterness spills out. “I fucked up, Jade. I didn’t want to lose you. But Klaas? He’s a fluke, just like his brother. Heard scouts are watching, but he’s nothing but a burnout. I’m the one heading to the NHL.”
Jesus, he’s jealous, not just of me but of Drew’s combine buzz. Is he afraid he’ll outshine the Colorado’s stars. It’s not just about getting me back; it’s about proving he’s still the better man.
“You’re jealous,” I say, the truth cutting. “Drew’s earning his way, and you can’t stand it.”
Roman’s eyes darken. “I knew you first, Jade. I know what you need. He’ll crash, and you’ll be alone again.”
“You never knew me,” I shoot back, my voice steady despite the ache his words stir. “You wanted control, not me.” I end the call, my hand shaking as the screen goes dark.
I barely have myself composed when two quick knocks jerk me upright.
I will my heart to relax as I cross the room and open the door.
Drew’s broad shoulders fill the frame. His dark hair is damp from a fresh shower, and his blue Cessna Hockey hoodie hangs unzipped over a plain gray T-shirt. The hallway light catches the sharp line of his jaw and the shadow of stubble. His eyes are dark and wide, like something barely contained.
“I couldn’t wait.” His voice is low and rough.
He steps in, and I step back as the door shuts behind him. I try to be subtle as I breathe in his scent, but damn, that minty citrusy soap fills the space between us perfectly. This is exactly what I need.
“Congratulations on the wins.” I aim for casual, but my voice is way too soft.
Drew’s gaze stays locked on mine. “Thanks. We kicked ass this weekend.”
“That’s—”
“I don’t care about the game,” he cuts me off. “I only cared if you watched.”
His hands find my waist, fingers pressing into the bare skin where my T-shirt has ridden up.
“I watched.” I remind him softly. We’ve already talked about the game. That’s not why he’s here.
