Page 57 of Stroke of Fate

“That didn’t look like nothing,” I say, refusing to let it go.

Mack rolls his eyes, but I know him. He has a reputation for a reason.

He’s a good guy and a loyal friend. Hell, I’d defend the guy with my dying breath, but I’m not oblivious to his less-than-stellar ways.

Around girls, he lets his dick take the lead, and it doesn’t always end well. He treats his hook-ups with respect, but he can be careless when it comes to the emotional side of things.

“Did something happen between the two of you…” I let the rest of my sentence hang in the air.

“Just drop it, Levi.” Mack keeps his gaze on the wooden tabletop, jaw visibly tight.

Sighing, I lean back in my chair and scrub a hand over my face. “Fine, but if you ever want to talk about what that was or wasn’t, I’m here for you.”

A beat passes before he looks up, the easygoing smile back in place and whatever moment he had gone.

“It’s nothing, just me shooting the shit with her.” He shrugs. “Anyway, tell me about hoodie girl.”

The mention of Bear is enough for my mouth to tip up into a ghost of a smile, and her face flashes through my mind. Instinctively, I look around again but still don’t catch a glimpse of her.

“You remember when that cardboard box was outside my door at the start of the school year? The one with ‘Bear Miller’ written on it?”

Mack takes a sip of his drink and nods. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, it turns out Bear is hoodie girl.”

“What?” Mack barks out a laugh, slapping the table with his hand. “No fucking way. Now I know why you were so tight-lipped about who came by that day. You wanted to keep her for yourself.”

I shoot him a glare, which only causes him to laugh harder.

“Hey man, I don’t blame you.” He raises his hands in surrender. “She’s hot, and you’ve never shown this muchinterest in someone since I’ve known you, so as your friend, this makes me happy.”

“Yeah, well, she’s different,” I mumble, fiddling with my straw.

I hate that line, but it’s true. She’s had my attention from day one. And every day since then, she’s become a constant in my thoughts. I wake up thinking about her and go to bed thinking about her.

She’s a presence in my life I didn’t know I wanted, and now I find myself willing to do anything to keep her in it. I’d drive hours to see her if it meant spending five minutes together. That’s how attached to her I’ve grown in the past few weeks. The thought should scare me, but instead, I accept it for what it is: the truth.

Mack leans back in his chair, studying me, his tone turning serious for once. “What makes her different?”

“I don’t know. It’s just...shit, man, I’ve got it bad for her,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, uncomfortable as hell to be talking about all these feelings and crap. But fuck it, I need to get this off my chest with someone. “It’s more than wanting to fuck her, you know?”

So much more, even thinking that’s the only thing I want from her leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“What about Bear? How does she feel about you?” Mack asks.

That’s the damn million-dollar question.

We’re interrupted when our new server brings over our appetizer, and we quickly place our orders with him.

Mack wastes no time dipping a chip in the guacamole, and I do the same, thinking over my answer to his question as I chew.

“She kind of friend-zoned me,” I admit grimly.

The bite of food suddenly feels like cement in my stomach as I think back to my conversation with Bear at dinner.

As you can see, we'll be spending some time together over the next few months. I'd like us to at least try to be friends.

I called bullshit then, and I call it now. I know she feels the undeniable chemistry between us. There’s nothingremotelyfriendly about that. And honestly? Fuck that. I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than be just friends with Bear.

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