Page 90 of Salto

“I can pay you for mine,” I said, and he shook his head.

“It’s okay. It’ll be on the gym.”

He went over to the sauce counter after paying, and the way he moved made it seem like he frequented the place regularly. Did he always have to do everything so confidently?

He started filling up little paper cups with ketchup. I was a little confused how someone could be attractive doing such a simple task.

But he was.

And I knew he was off-limits, but he was only three years older than me. I couldn't help but wonder what might've happened if we'd met under different circumstances. If neither of us had been connected to the world of gymnastics...

I felt a flush heat my cheeks, and I shoved the thought away before it could go any further.

I reached for the napkins and grabbed far too many, just to give my hands something to do. I carried the ridiculous stack over to a booth, dropped them in the center of the table, and turned toward the window.

A moment later, Rove slid into the seat across from me with two ketchup cups and set them beside my mountain of napkins.

“Don’t you dare make a comment about how many napkins I just grabbed,” I said when I caught him scrutinizing them from the corner of my eye.

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You were thinking about it,” I said, snatching a few napkins and setting them on my lap.

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, eyeing me. And I could feel his gaze on me. It was like a little dagger pointed at me. Finally, I couldn't ignore it anymore, and I looked up again.

The sleeve of his sweatshirt had risen a bit, and I could see the black tattoo sleeve peeking out.

I saw him in the gym every day. Why was I suddenly so nervous?

Maybe it was because I was so focused on my body and what I was doing in the gym that, when I was outside the gym, it made it harder to ignore the underlying chemistry we had. But out here in the real world, with no gymnastics as a buffer, there was nothing to hide behind.

“Red,” he said softly.

“Hmm…”

“Why are you acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” I said quickly.

Thank goodness one of the servers brought out our food, and I was able to shove some tater tots into my mouth.

“You are,” he said, squeezing some lemon onto his fish and chips.

“Am I?” I mumbled, biting into my burger so I had no way to keep talking. The food distraction helped. I downed half my burger, half the tots, and slurped down a good portion of the chocolate shake.

Soon, I was stuffed, and there were no more distractions.

I leaned back against the red leather cushion, resting my hand on my stomach.

He reached across the table without asking, stole a tater tot, and tossed it into his mouth.

It was small. Something so silly. But my entire body reacted as if he’d touched me.

“Not bad,” he said nonchalantly.

“They’re pretty good,” I said, but my voice came out breathier than I wanted it to.