Page 56 of The Puckable Playbook

Zaiah moves into view, and I have to press my lips together. Half relief, half this icky feeling I can’t shake fills me.

“Hi,” I start.

His face is grim, his lips a straight line.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry.”

“Well, I am.”

He slides his key into the lock and peers at me. “You’re going to have to step away so I can open the door.”

“Not until you say it’s okay.”

He tilts his head, confusion etching into his perfect features.

“Say it’s okay, and you’re not mad at me.”

He cups my face. “Lenore, I’m not mad at you. I’m worried about you. There’s a difference.”

Maybe that’s worse. My skin tingles where he touches me, and I wrap my arms tighter around my front, feeling more than exposed in this outfit.

I step aside, breaking the connection, and he opens the door. After it swings out, he grabs my hips like he did at Bubbles and guides me backward. “I’ll get you some water.”

The way he’s staring is unnerving, and I can’t help but gaze right back, noticing for the first time that gold flecks dot his brown eyes. Immediately, I look away. He’s so handsomeit hurts. Before today, it was easier to think of him as only my roommate. My stomach squeezes with the thought that I’m screwing all of this up. “I’m not sure I’m feeling good anymore. The cold breeze stole it away.”

“The cold breeze, huh? You’re definitely a writer.” He leads me to the couch and helps me sit, lingering to make sure I’m okay before going into the kitchen.

A cupboard slams, and I jump. Whirling to peer over my shoulder, I spot Zaiah there, hands gripping the countertops with a furious look on his face. Iamscrewing this up, and the thought is sobering. “See. I knew you were mad.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie because I’m the only one here.”

I sit back on the couch with my arms folded over my chest. I must look like a petulant child, so I let my arms slide down, but my pout remains. This night was supposed to be a celebration, but it has turned into a nightmare. Clark ditched me, he doesn’t want me to meet his parents, and now, Zaiah is mad at me.

I swallow. “Is it because I stole you away from dancing with that girl? Or made you come home early?”

“Girl? What girl? I only danced with you.”

“I saw—”

Suddenly, he’s in front of me, gaze in shadows with his lips a straight line, effectively cutting me off from my thought. I haven’t seen him this angry before, not even when facing down a defenseman.

He hands me the water. “I’m not mad at you, Lenore. I’m going to kill that editor, though.”

“Clark? Why?”

“You don’t leave a girl outside her dorm.”

“He didn’t know I lost my key.”

“He left without taking you safely upstairs to your room when the whole reason he wanted you to leave Bubbles isbecause he thought you were too drunk. Do you get that, Len? He leaves a drunk girl at the curb to fend for herself and then drives off? What kind of asshole does that?”

“He’s busy tomorrow,” I repeat Clark’s excuse on autopilot, like it’s the only justification necessary.

“I don’t care if he was prepping for the end of the fucking world, you get a girl home safely. Especially when she’s your date.”

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