My initial reaction is to pull my arm back. Not because I don’t welcome her touch—quite the fucking opposite, in fact. Sparks shoot from her innocent contact, making my blood heat and my heart race.
I stare back at her, wondering when the hell my body decided to betray me.
I made a promise. One I fully intended to keep after her life imploded. And it was fine, to start with. I was just there for her, my parents too. But somewhere along the way, my need to protect her and follow the request of her brother has morphed into something I shouldn’t be feeling. Something that was not part of what Roman asked of me.
Finally, I do what I should have done the moment she reached out, and I tug my hand free of hers in favor of lifting my sandwich.
Hurt flickers through her green eyes, although the second she blinks, she manages to hide it.
“I was just worried that you’d get here and realize you made a mistake,” she explains. “What you left behind, it’s… it’s huge, Tris. Most people wouldn’t walk away from that willingly.”
“I’m not most people,” I say with a smirk.
She chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m more than aware of that.”
“I did the right thing,” I confirm confidently.
“What if your leg heals and you can play again?”
I shrug. “I did it, Vi. I got there. I played almost two seasons for the NFL. It was incredible, everything I’d always dreamed of, but—”
“But it was ripped away from you. When I came out to Tennessee to see you, you were so—”
“Angry? Yeah. I was pissed. We were on our way to the best season in the Titans’ history, and I’d just fucked myself up, possibly forever. But things change.
“I’d rather be here doing something, making use of my life than following a team around while watching games I can’t play in from the sidelines.
“Here, I get to make a difference. I get to help train the future stars of the NFL, and hopefully, I can do that for years to come. Football is my life, it always has been. But it doesn’t just have to be about playing it. There is so much more to it than that.”
She nods, accepting my explanation. “I’m just worried you’ll heal and then you’ll regret being stuck here.”
With you? “Never.”
“How is it?” she asks, nodding to where my leg is hiding beneath the table.
“It’s getting there. Everything happens for a reason, right?” I ask, but I regret the words instantly as pain crosses her features.
“If you say so.”
My cell buzzes on the table, alerting me that my next class is starting in ten minutes and it’s on the other side of campus.
“I’m sorry, Pip. I’ve got to head out.”
“Wow, it really was a quickie, huh?”
“I’m sorry, things are crazy, my schedule is—”
“I know, Tris. I get it. You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” she says sadly.
“I’ll find some time, okay? We can hang out. You can come check out my new place, not that it’s got anything worth showing off.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I hear it’s got a pretty kickass pineapple plant,” she teases, reminding me of the housewarming gift she sent. I’m not sure who she’s trying to kid, I can barely keep myself alive, let alone a freaking plant.
“Hey, now. You leave Penny out of this.”
She stares at me for a beat as if she’s trying to figure out if I’m being serious or not before she falls about in a fit of laughter.
“P-Penny? Tris, tell me you didn’t name the plant?”
“What?” I argue. “It gets lonely sometimes.”
“What, you mean your NFL fame doesn’t have jersey chasers at your door every second of the day?” she teases, although despite trying to cover how she really feels about that statement, there’s no hiding the way her top lip peels back in disgust.
“Oh yeah, they’ve all been flocking to me every night of the week to welcome me to town and massage my knee.” I shouldn’t say it, but I can’t stop myself. My need to see that she’s as affected by me as I am her is too much to ignore.
It’s a dangerous, dangerous game but one I can’t seem to stop playing.
“Tell me you’re kidding,” she begs, trying to keep her tone light and teasing.
“Of course. The only people I’ve seen are the coaching staff, the team, and now you.”
“Living the high life, huh?”
“You know it,” I say, throwing my bag over my shoulder and gathering up my trash. “I’ll message you.”
“Wait,” she calls behind me, making my body freeze. “I’ve got like an hour until my next class. Can I walk you?”
“You sure you want to risk your life like that, batting away all the jersey chasers?”
“I’ll take the risk. I’ll point out the ones you really need to stay away from, unless of course you want your dick to rot off.”
“Can’t say it was on my to-do list, Pip,” I confess as we walk out of the coffee shop.
“Do you have to keep calling me that?” she whines. “I’m a college student now. The childish nickname can go at any time.”
“Nah, I think it’s cute. You’ll always be my little pipsqueak.”
3
VIOLET
“Great,” I mutter to myself as I trail behind Tristan after dumping my trash.
I don’t want him to see me as cute. I want him to see me as a sexy woman, not an annoying little child.
Was that the reason for the slightly obscene booty shorts that I’d never usually wear to class? Yeah, there’s a very good chance it was.
And they might have worked for a beat. He checked me out while we were standing in line for lunch, sure, but it was only once. I certainly wasn’t getting the ‘I can’t keep my eyes off you, you’re so hot’ vibes that I was hoping for.
“So where are we going?” I ask.
Really, I should be heading to the library, but my need to have more time with him is too strong to ignore.
“Augustus Building.”
I fight to school my reaction. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was heading to the other side of campus.
Instead, I flick my hair over my shoulder, thread my arm through his and set off on the hike through campus, soaking up his warmth and strength like a junkie craving her next fix.
We barely make it twenty feet when I spot the first group of jersey chasers, obviously headed up by fucking Clara.
“Look out, desperate skanks at three o’clock,” I murmur as the three of them push from the bench.
I can’t help but roll my eyes as each of them adjusts their clothing and pouts their lips.
With their eyes laser-focused on Tristan, they saunter our way, with their hips swaying.
“Tristan Carver, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Clara purrs. Her voice is so high-pitched and squeaky that it makes a shiver of disgust run down my spine.
Despite not wanting to show my clear distaste for these hussies, I can’t help my top lip from peeling back and my brows rising.