Page 23 of The Comeback Pact

“And it will be until further notice.” I glower at him, sliding the packet off my tray with my pinkie. They can find another time to work out until Kenna feels comfortable having other people around.

When I dig into my oatmeal, I sense her stare on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her watch me intently with a curious expression on her face. My stomach knots.

“I think I see a muscle already,” Sydney jokes, pushing her finger into Kenna’s bicep.

Kenna actually laughs, relieving the tension inside me a little. “I think that’s a shadow.”

“She did good,” I remark. My words quiet the table, and I have to stifle the embarrassment that creeps up. I’m West Brooks. I don’t get embarrassed. I mow defenders over on the field. I growl in their faces and force them to the turf, all while barely breaking a sweat.

But McKenna Knowles unnerves me.

Aidan leans back, narrowing his gaze at me. To my left, the other players start talking amongst each other, but Aidan keeps staring at me quizzically. Sydney and Kenna start talking about the Lip Sync Contest, and soon, Aidan joins their conversation, suggesting songs for Sydney, which she either immediately denies or tilts her head to think about. Some of his suggestions make them laugh.

I envy my friend. He talks so easily. Just when I get up the courage to say something, they’re already on a different song or a different topic altogether.

My head hurts. I’m emotionally exhausted and furious with myself.

The reason why I’m so good at tackling people on the field is because there are rules. Run this play. Run that play. Block this person or wait for the handoff and run as many people over as I can on my way to the end zone.

Sitting next to Kenna is dark and scary, yet thrilling at the same time.

Like diving into the abyss…

“You guys should come to the contest,” Sydney says, smiling. In the next second, she flinches. “Ow.” She glares daggers at Kenna, who scowls right back at her. “I mean, wow”—she peers down at her naked wrist where a watch should be—“I should probably get to class.”

Aidan snickers. “Thanks, I’d love to come. The Hulk and I will be there.”

“What’s this?” Cade asks, always all ears when it’s something social.

Aidan nods toward Sydney. “She’s going to be in the Lip Sync Contest. I said we’re going.”

“Sweet.” Cade grins. “Sounds like fun. What song are you doing?”

That prompts Sydney and Cade to have a conversation over Aidan. Kenna falls silent, and I peek over to find that she’s only eaten the bacon and the fruit she placed on her plate. A spoon still sits in her oatmeal. “You don’t like it?”

“Huh? Oh,” she says, following my gaze. “It’s okay.”

I get up, leaving all of the talking behind me, and head back to the food line. People say hi to me as I pass, and I give them my normal bro nod. I grab some honey and put it in a little dish for Kenna before walking it back over.

Placing it next to her, I say, “Try this. It should sweeten it up.”

She pours it over top of her oatmeal and then stirs it briefly. Before scooping a spoonful in her mouth, though, she closes her eyes. They stay shut while she chews a few times. “That’s better.” She turns toward me with a small smile. “I’ve never been a big fan of oatmeal.”

“You can put fruit in it, too. Bananas. Blueberries.”

“Can I keep the honey?”

Jesus. She can do whatever she wants.

She’s taken her hair out of its ponytail and is running her fingers through it. It’s wild around her full lips and high cheekbones, the color nearly matching the honey I’ve just given her.

I can’t help but take the rest of her in as I watch her movements, mesmerized. She may have a slight frame, but I saw pops of muscles come out when she was lifting. Lean with nice, long legs, she’s full in all the right areas.

My breathing slows. A few times in the weight room, my hands had brushed hers, and electric shocks shot straight to my toes.

Shit. I might be obsessed with this girl. The cruel part is I don’t even know what to do about it. I’m…inept in everything except football.

She lifts her brows, and I realize I haven’t responded to what she’s said. “Yeah.” I shake my head, as if to knock me out of the spell she’s put me under. “You can keep the honey.” My gaze drifts to the neckline of her shirt that’s shifted low, showing off her cleavage. Her whipped cream comment flits through my mind, and I swear to God, she’d look amazing in a whipped-cream bikini. Two cherries where her nipples should be.

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