Page 5 of The Perfect Spiral
I rolled my eyes. “Please. You tortured me as a kid. Dunked my head in the pool, stole my diary, replaced my shampoo with glitter.”
“We’re not kids anymore, are we?” he murmured.
He leaned in slightly, and I felt the space between us disappear. He smiled like I’d already said yes. Any other woman on earth would.
Every instinct screamed at me to roll my eyes, shove him away, make some sarcastic remark about inflated egos and NFL arrogance. I’d always hated his entitled jock, God’s-gift-to-women act—the way he knew he was hot and acted like the world owed him something for it.
And my brothers? They’d lose their collective minds if they ever found out I’d kissed Knox Carter. I didn’t want to cause all that drama.
I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve gotten out of the car, slammed the door, walked away.
But I didn’t. It felt good to be wanted after what Drew had just done to me. And then I remembered—I was still wearing the black lingerie under my hoodie. Suddenly, I wanted to see how he’d react to it.
He was so close now I could smell him—clean and warm, like cedarwood and something distinctly male. His shoulder brushed mine, and when I turned my head, our faces were only inches apart.
My breath caught as Knox leaned in a little more, his lips hovering near mine, his eyes fixed like I was the only girl left in the world.
Chapter 3
His breath was warm on my lips, his eyes locked on mine. Ourfaces were so close now, I could feel the heat of his body. A thrill of anticipation raced through me, the same wild flutter I used to feel when he came over for sleepovers in high school.
Back then, it was all whispers through the walls and stolen glances in the kitchen when my brothers weren’t looking. Now we were alone. Just the two of us, no interruptions or brothers, nothing to stop the kiss I’d dreamed about since I was a teenager.
We both jumped. A fan was grinning through the window, phone already up, practically vibrating with excitement. “Holy shit, it’s Knox Carter! Dude, can I get a pic?!”
Knox didn’t move for a second, like he was trying to will the moment back into place. But it was gone. We both felt it.
He let out a quiet sigh, then climbed out of the car. “Yeah, man. Sure.”
I pushed open the door and started walking toward the building. Then I heard his voice behind me. “Alex, wait. I’ll walk you up.”
“That’s okay,” I said, suddenly just wanting this whole crazy night to end. “I need some sleep.”
He nodded, then asked, “You gonna come to the game next week?”
His brows drew together. “Maybe? You’re seriously gonna play coy right now?”
I blinked. “It’s not about being coy, Knox. I just—”
He laughed bitterly. “You should be thanking me. I literally saved you back there.”
“Message received,” he said with his jaw clenched. “I’m late for a date with one of the hottest pop stars on the planet, so I’ve got to go.”
“You’re free to go,” I said, giving him a sarcastic wave goodbye. The tires squealed as he pulled away, leaving me to stomp intomy building, pissed. Between Drew and Knox, fuck men!
Before I could even put my key in my apartment door, my roommate Andy flung it open and shouted, “WHAT THE HELL, ALEX?! WAS THAT KNOX CARTER?!”
I didn’t even answer. I just walked past her, tossed my purse on the couch, and collapsed on my bed.
Andy burst into my room holding up an issue of GQ. “You seriously got out of this man’s car?” she demanded, waving the magazine in my face. Knox’s face stared back at me from the glossy cover—smoldering, perfect. His dark hair was damp, his sculpted arms on full display, a football strategically placed over his lower half while beads of sweat trickled down his abs.
“Look at him! The jawline, the arms, the damn glisten—Alex, there’s actual glisten.” Andy swooned, clutching the magazine to her chest like it might escape.
I rolled my eyes, but a tiny part of me—the part that remembered the weight of his gaze just hours ago—tingled. “He’s my brother’s best friend. Our families had always been ridiculously close. His mom and mine had grown up together in Savannah, childhood besties who somehow reconnected when my family moved to the Upper West Side. Our brothers were basically attached at the hip.”
“I’d like to be attached to his hip,” Andy said.
I laughed, but then explained how he basically tortured me as a kid. And he was the leading man-slut at our high school, leaning all the way into the star football player role. “I know he’s hot as hell on the covers, but believe me, his personality ruins the rating.”
