Page 27 of The Comeback Pact

West finally gets to us. He eyes his friend. “You could’ve gotten away from the tackle. You’ve gotten lazy.”

“Who needs to be active in the pocket when I got you?”

Some of these words don’t compute, but my attention keeps being drawn to West’s lips, then down to his stubborn chin.

“What are you ladies doing in a little bit?” Aidan asks. “Once we take showers, a few of the guys are heading to the ice cream shop in town.”

“I’m always down for some ice cream,” Sydney says, peering over at me with wide, begging eyes.

Suddenly, I can feel everyone’s gazes on me, and I squirm. I don’t know what to do. Follow this attraction to West to see where it leads? I can’t imagine anything good will come from it, and I’m not even sure if he—

“You should come,” West states. He closes his eyes briefly, his lashes fanning down.

Dear God.

“I don’t know,” I tease. “Am I allowed to have ice cream?”

I bite my lip. My words came out all breathy and…well, flirty. Fuck, I’m flirting with West Brooks. How did I get into this mess? My body is a traitor, and it’s sending the wrong kind of signals right between my legs.

“Rewards are always good,” he muses.

Sydney claps her hands. “Good, I hope they have delicious dick.”

I peer over at her, my mouth open, but everyone else is making plans, and it takes me entirely too long to realize she said “I hope they have deliciousdip.”

Dip. She wants dipped ice cream, for crying out loud.

Jesus. I must have dick on the brain.

CHAPTERTEN

West

Jersey chasers have followedus to Scoops. They sandwich me into the interior of a booth, and my only consolation is that I get to look at Kenna the whole time, which is why I know she’s hating every moment of being here. She gets flavored hard ice cream and stirs it with her spoon until it gets soupy, hardly even looking up.

At one point, she reaches for her phone, and I see her type something out. Kenna and NoOne are still talking. Kenna and West don’t talk very much at all, so when my phonepings, I hesitate to bring it out in case she’s messaged NoOne—except, I’m not logged into that account right now. I’m logged into my own.

I peer down and smile. Kenna has actually messagedme.

McKennaK: Do you think they notice you don’t talk?

My stomach tightens. The jersey chasers are pressed against me from all sides like I’m a quarterback in the middle of a collapsing O-line, and she’s right. I haven’t said one word to them, even though they talk to me as if I’m responding.

I peek up at her, and she’s grinning. She’d pulled her hair over her scar as soon as the other girls sat with us, and it’s still lying that way now. I wish she hadn’t. I wish she’d let it out like she couldn’t care less what they think, but I’m well aware that some of these girls can be bitches. Especially when they think they’re in a competition for attention.

If they only knew. There is no competition when it comes to Kenna.

I type out an answer on my phone.

WestB: No

After I hit Send, I berate myself for it. I can’t just unclench when I’m West. The few things I have said to her in person sound foreign, like I’m wobbling on toddler legs every time I attempt to talk to her like a normal human being.

McKennaK: It’s weird, don’t you think?

WestB: Very.

She stares at her phone with a frown, and I panic. I’m completely uninteresting. I want so badly to be the guy who puts a smile on her face—hell, even a scowl. I’d be happy with any emotion right about now.

---