Page 40 of Delayed Offsides

I cut Evan off by holding up my fist. “Shut up.” My hand connects with his chest as we retrieve our shoes and belongings from the bins. “Forget what you saw.”

He chuckles. “Uh-huh.”

When I board the plane, I’m told by Evan my seat is next to Leo. “Did you plan that shit?”

“No.” He reaches up and shoves his bag into the overhead bin in first class. “How was I to know you wouldn’t be talking to him?”

I push him forward, clutching my purse as I near Leo, who’s staring at his phone. No way am I putting my bag in the overhead bin because with my luck, the bin will open during the flight, and the test will fall in his lap.

Of course I have the window seat, so I have to sneak past Leo to get to mine. I give him a nice view of my ass and then sit down, my purse in my lap like I’m transporting an organ awaiting transplant across the country. I can feel him staring at me, so I peek over at him, and he grins.

I lift my eyes to Evan, who’s on the other side of Leo, sitting with Ami. “Switch seats with me.”

“No.” He stares at me like I’m crazy for even asking.

Slumping back in my seat, I catch Leo’s stare as he put his hands behind his head. His eyes, noticeably impure in thought, shift to mine. “You get me for four hours.”

CHAPTER9

CHECK TO THE HEAD

LEO

A hit where the primary contact is made to an opponent's head. A major or match penalty in the NHL if such a hit is made from a lateral or blind side position. In other leagues and organizations, any check to the head can be a minor or major penalty, often including an automatic misconduct or game misconduct penalty.

Now she hasto talk to me. We’re sitting right next to one another. The way I see it, who can ignore me of all people for four hours?

No way Callie will be able to. She might be able to if we weren’t together, like the last month, but now I’m in her face, and I’m not going anywhere.

“Now you have to talk to me. Four hours and yougetto sit next to me,” I say proudly, but I don’t think Callie sees it that way by the look on her face.

In fact, the look says: Fuck you, asshole. Get away from me.

Sufficiently chastised by her glare, I turn my attention toward my phone. It’s going to be a long trip.

It’s sometime after the first round of drinks I order that I notice Callie isn’t drinking. Completely unlike her. “Want one?”

Immediately she shakes her head. Okay. We’ve moved on from no talking to head shakes. Cool.

Staring at the back of the seat in front of me, my knee bounces nervously as I contemplate what to say to Callie. Immaturely, I take the napkin on the tray in front of me and write:I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?

And then slip it over to her tray where she’s hunched over her cell phone.

Her eyes shift to the note, then back to her phone, but she smiles and takes my pen from me.

You already did and showed 500 others!

She has me there. She even underlined 500. Twice.

But I’m letting this go. We were friends, and now nothing. Fuck that. I deserve answers.

Are you seeing that guy?

I slide the note back over to her only to have her rip it up and throw it at me and then turn back to her cell phone.

Taking her phone from her hands, I stick it down the front of my jeans. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Leo….”

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