Page 50 of Captured Love

I pause, debating whether to tell him the truth or not. It's a romance novel, one with a particularly steamy scene I just finished. The idea of him knowing that seems like a blessing or a curse.

Me: Just some light bedtime reading. Nothing too scandalous.

Knox: I don't believe that for a second, but I'll let it slide. For now.

Me: How generous of you.

Knox: I'm a giver, what can I say?

I roll my eyes, but I know that to be true in more ways than one. This is dangerous territory, and I know it, but I can't seem to make myself stop. It just feels too damn good to talk to him like this.

Me: A giver, huh? I'll believe that when I see it.

Knox: Careful what you wish for. I might just have to prove it to you. Again.

His response sends a shiver down my spine. Is it wrong that I want him to prove it? I want to see just how much of a giver he can be? I shake my head because I need to clear my thoughts. We're just friends. Barely even that.

Me: I think I'll take my chances. Besides, don't you have a smoothie mess to clean up?

Knox: Way to change the subject. But you're right, I should probably get on that. It’ll probably eventually smell like shit if I don’t.

I wrinkle my nose at the image, but a laugh escapes from my lips anyway. He clearly has a way with words.

Me: Gross. On that lovely note, I think I'll get back to my book. Good luck with your mess.

Knox: Thanks. Enjoy your "light bedtime reading." Goodnight.

Me: Night.

As I settle back down into my book, I can't quite shake the warm feeling that talking to him put in my chest. After reading the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word, I sigh and set the book aside. It's clear my focus is shot for the night. I glance at my phone because I’m tempted to grab it and text him again, but I resist the urge. Instead, I lay my head down on my pillows and stare at the ceiling.

Where is all of this even going?

I roll over and bury my face in my pillow with a groan. Why does this have to be so complicated? Why can't I just enjoy whatever this is without over analyzing everything? But I knowthe answer to that without having to waste an ounce of brain power on it.

Because it’s Knox.

19

KNOX

The bus rumbles beneath me as I lean against the window, scrolling through my phone. The guys are loud tonight, laughing and shoving each other in the cramped seats, but my mind is somewhere else. Well, not somewhere else—with someone else. I glance up from my phone, taking in the controlled chaos of the team bus driving down the highway. It’s nothing but another travel day for an away game in the life of the Crestwood Red Wolves.

My phone buzzes in my hand and I can't help but grin when I see who it's from.

Selene: I hope you didn’t forget to pack your teddy bear. I hear the Sparks are super intimidating.

I chuckle, imagining Selene’s smirk as she types out her text.

Me: You mean the one you gave me for Christmas? Never leave home without it.

I hit send and picture her rolling her eyes, the way she does when she's pretending to be annoyed but is actually amused. Since our “outing” at Prosecco & Prose last week, things are getting back to the way they were. Our text message conversations have resumed, and I think she’s starting to realize that I meant every word I said.

Another buzz.

Selene: Good. I’d hate for you to be scared and alone in your big bad hotel room.

“Yo, Sanchez!” someone yells from the back of the bus. I look up and see Wilder, who I swear hasn’t shut up since we left Crestwood.

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