Page 65 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

Brett is still someone to consider. Do I keep talking to him? I enjoy talking to him.

From the beginning, I thought I wasn’t ready for a relationship, but maybe I just wasn’t interested in a relationship with Brett. Which I hate because he is the ideal guy. He’s sweet, caring, attentive, affectionate, and he’s hot. Being with him would be easy. The kisses we’ve shared were phenomenal. I can’t forget that, but he doesn’t make my heart pound without even touching me like Riggs does.

Turning him down makes me sick, but it will be better to let him down now rather than later when he is more attached. I send him a quick text to see if he wants to meet up. I’m dreading ending things with him, but it needs to be done.

“You ready for the scrimmage this Friday?” Jensen asks between bites of his doughnut. We’re sitting in the courtyard eating and drinking coffee. The summer sun has finally calmed down, so it’s bearable to be out here during the day and while I still prefer winter, I’m enjoying being outside for once.

Kai says something that has Foxy giggling, and she bends his way to kiss his cheek. Jensen notices and I wait for a moment to see if he gets jealous, but he doesn’t. He is actually into it. Kai’s eyes are heated as he looks at the monster-sized guy and they share something I cannot miss. Yeah, they’re both tapping the Fox. I’m happy for them and want to say something, but there is a reason Foxy isn’t telling me and I will be okay with that for now.

“Yeah, but I’m also ready for this season to be over with. I don’t get along with the girls on the team much. I miss high school hockey.”

“We’re on the same campus as the Academy. Why don’t you go see if Coach will let you assist their practices?” he recommends.

“That’s actually a great idea,” I remark as I sip my coffee, reminiscing about the lattes I had with Riggs the other day. We have had minimal contact since then because he’s been MIA, but we have texted a few times.

He likes to send me emoji sentences that I have to decipher, and he is a creative genius, so I take a minute to figure them out. He’s quite amused by my guesses.

Is it weird that I miss him? I mean, we cuddled and slept together on the couch in the cafe. Well, I slept. He comforted me and stroked my hair.Stroked. My. Hair.Who does that if they’re not interested in someone?

His touch was divine, gentle, warm. I want so much more of him, I can barely stand it. Not seeing him the past couple of days has been rough. Of course, when I ask him how he’s doing and if he is okay, he replies he’s fine. Hopefully, he is comfortable enough to tell me if something happens to his grandma. He doesn’t need to deal with everything on his own.

Should I be prying more?

Maybe I’m insecure after the time we spent together. Not that he is ghosting me, we’re still in contact, but he has backed off. He hasn’t even been attending his classes. Jensen says he’s fine that he does this sometimes, but I can’t help myself. I went and got attached, and I want to be there for him. We were making such good progress, only to be shut down.

As if he is reading my mind, Jensen looks beyond me, his eyes lighting up.

I risk a glance over my shoulder and find Riggs walking toward us. He’s not wearing his uniform and instead a gray short-sleeved Henley that’s seen better days, faded blue jeans, and his boots. A black hoodie is slung over his shoulder and his helmet is hanging by the straps in his hand. His hair has been combed today, and it looks like he has worked strands over to the side with his fingers.

I’m not sure what the proper thing to do here is. I want to get up and greet him. Hell, I want to throw myself into his arms, find a couch or a bed and do the snuggle thing again, but… school. Do I wait for him to approach and see what he does? Do I greet him when he gets to the table? We’re not together, but I’d say at this point we are friends. A pang of sadness hits me that he won't be in creative writing again today. I wonder if something happened to his grandmother, and that’s why he still isn’t planning to attend classes today.

I face my friends over the table again, figuring I’ll just let him come to me. The ball is in his court. I did nothing to tell him I didn’t want what we started, but I don’t want to chase him either.

The scuff of his boots meets my ears, and my heart tries to leap out of my chest. Is the beat audible? It’s loud as shit to me.

How does he do this to me? This isn’t natural, and frankly, unfair. I hope he responds to me in the same way.Doubtful. He doesn’t respond to anything with excitement.

His hand finds the small of my back, sending a shiver outward from the contact.

A kiss lands on my cheek, candied grapes moving in to tempt me as he whispers in my ear so only I can hear. “Outlaw, I’ve missed you.”

My eyes meet his in a damn instant, like I’m a thirsty bitch.

They’re crystal blue today, sparkling on the outside. He looks at me as if I’m the only girl in the world and it’s such a stark difference from the brief contact we’ve had recently that it steals my breath, confuses me.

Sending everyone else a greeting, including a more than intrigued Foxy, he sits down, straddling the bench with his long legs open in my direction. “Can we talk? Privately.”

When I agree, he props his helmet on the table and stands. Offering me his hand, he helps me up and doesn’t let go as he tugs me along. We round a corner into a private cove behind some bushes. He’s in a rush that catches me off guard. I didn’t expect him to be here today, let alone showing up and shoving me into some bushes. Instead of reaching for him, because apparently that’s my new instinct, I back away.

“Where have you been? Is everything okay? Please don’t shut me out, Riggs.” Once the words are out, I regret them. I hadn’t planned on sounding so desperate or asking questions to begin with, but having him here now, I can’t stop my questions.

“Please don’t worry about me so much, okay? I don’t want you to,” he pleads, frowning.

“Too late. I was convinced you were ghosting me. Are you ghosting me?” His eyes snap to mine, concerned. He questions whether he should touch me as his fingers twitch. I find I want him to.

“What? No. No, I’m sorry it seems like I am. It’s just…” His mood falls, and I swear I can see the storm clouds moving in. A pit forms in my stomach. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I thought I’ve been communicating with you without weighing you down. Clearly it hasn’t been working.”

Placing my palm to his cheek, I make him look at me. Such an intimate gesture that I’m not sure why I’m doing it. “Riggs, stop. You could never weigh me down. I enjoy talking to you. Understood? Whatever you’re going through, I want to help.” His eyes dance back to my face and his lips part.

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