Page 13 of Blitz

He might hate me, he might think I’m the worst person in the history of the world, but there’s no getting around the spark between us. A part of him still wants me.

Even if he hates himself for it.

With a sharp inhalation, he releases me. He takes a step back and tucks his hands in his pockets. He’s breathing hard, his dark cheeks a dull rusty color.

“Tuck…”

“I need to go.”

“But—”

He hurries down the stairs. I debate calling after him. I debate chasing him, making him talk to me.

The door slams open behind me, shattering the moment. People pour out of the ASC, laughing, like my entire world didn’t just implode. Tucker Kingsley may not like me, but a part of him still wants me.

Fred is waiting for me in the lobby. She frowns as I make my way back inside.

“So it went well?”

“I’m really not sure.”

She sighs. “It will work out. Or it won’t. Want to go get drunk?”

I laugh and thread my arm through hers. “Yes, please.”

Saturday nights have a routine. My roommates and I get dressed up and go out on the town, as much as we can in a sleepy college town. Usually, that means we hit up a frat party. All night long, I watch the door, waiting for King to walk in. He’s a football player, one of the best on the team. They should be dousing him in beer and showing him a good time.

I’ve never seen him at a frat party, not once. He used to be the life of the party. Everyone noticed when he walked in. He’s a magnet for attention, for trouble. He’s a hell of a good time.

Maybe transferring to the same university as my ex-boyfriend to try to win him back was a bad idea. I don’t have the freedom to stretch my wings here. I’ve been biding my time until our paths cross again. And now they have, and now I’m getting all sorts of mixed signals from him.

He hates me. He shows up to my track meet. He tells me he wants nothing to do with me. He kisses me.

I don’t think that he knows what he wants.

I want his attention. His affection. His smiles. A little piece of me is still in love with him. Maybe it’s a bigger part of me than I thought.

I need to get drunk.

Back at our place in Athlete’s Village, Fred, Melissa, and I get dressed for a night out. We might pregame a bit. I’m still riding the high of the kiss and the meet. I came in first in the 200-meter and second in my other two events. Not bad for my first real meet as a member of the Newton Wolfpack. I’ll prove to the coaching staff that they didn’t make a mistake in allowing me to transfer.

The Delta frat party is the same as it usually is. Too many people packed into too small a space. Shitty music blares from the speakers.

Fred hands me a drink. “He’s not going to show up.”

“He will.”

“He bolted,” she reminds me. “He’s never come to one of these things before. Why is tonight the night?”

It just is. I can feel it in my bones.

Sullivan, one of the safeties on the football team, bobs his way over to us.

“Ladies.”

“Hey, Sully,” Fred says, giving him heart eyes.

He gets the hint. He blatantly checks her out, the tight, low-cut shirt and the form-fitting leggings that leave nothing to the imagination. They’ve been circling around each other for months. It’s only a matter of time.