Page 12 of The Heartbreak Blitz

She slips out from underneath my arm and walks away, her black-as-night hair swinging behind her.

“I’ll make you love me!” I call out.

Nothing. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t wave me away, she just keeps walking until she turns the corner.

It’s as if I’m invisible, and I don’t like it.

A hand rests on my shoulder. “Aww, and here I was, hoping to get your attention.”

I spin to see perfectly manicured fingers with light-pink polish. “Hey, Cher.”

“Cade.” She draws my name out on a happy sigh. “I’ve missed you around. Are you okay?” She loops her arm through mine.

“Busy. Dempsey is riding my ass.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m glad I don’t have him. He may be hot, but I’ve heard horror stories.”

“Great.”

She squeezes my bicep, her touch lingering. “But you’ll do great. You’ll figure it out.”

Cher and I have orbited each other since freshman year. There’s a mutual attraction, but it’s never been the right time for either of us. Not saying we haven’t hooked up, though. She’s fun and sweet. “Do you have a class to get to?”

“No, I’m actually headed to my room.”

“Do you want to make a detour to the dining hall? We can sit and catch up?”

Her cheeks blush. “Sure. I’d like that.” She keeps her arm wrapped around mine, and we walk toward the dining hall. “I thought senior year would be easier than this. I’m taking on more responsibilities at my sorority, plus there’s schoolwork, and people are feeling nostalgia for those of us who won’t be around next year…”

I should leave Charley-not-Charlotte alone. She clearly doesn’t want my attention. She’s pretty, and for some reason, I kind of like the idea that I have to work to talk to her, but there’s a point when it becomes too much. I don’t want to harass her or anything.

Plus, besides Dempsey, I have so many other things on my plate. Should I go to the NFL combine? Will I even get invited? Or drafted?

Or maybe I don’t care about playing professionally anymore?

My stomach tightens with all the lingering questions. Cher pulls me in and laughs, and I’m ashamed I have no idea what she’s been saying.

I stop, and she pauses with me. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, I remembered I have somewhere to be.”

“Aww, that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind,” I lie. “Let me walk you to your room?”

She smiles. “Sure.”

We switch directions, and I lead her toward sorority row, cutting across the quad in the brisk air. She chats next to me easily, thankfully none of it needing a response from me because I’m so torn up about the thought I just had.

Maybe I don’t care about playing professionally anymore.

I don’t know. Maybe I don’t. What if I just don’t want to admit to myself that my goals have changed? Or maybe I’m only thinking this because I’m scared I won’t get drafted.

I’m damn good at football. I’ve been a top prospect for the past two years.

But what if it’s not what I want?

Cher turns and lifts to her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, Cade.”

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