Page 55 of Falling Offsides

The elevator that always happens to open when I’m in the hallway.

The ride that conveniently rolls up just as I’m about to call an Uber.

Auguste never explains. Never even pretends to have an excuse. Just holds the door open like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Maybe it is normal. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. BecauseIcan’t stop thinking about him.

I can’t stop looking at the photos that I took of him and Samson when we went out together. The other night I couldn’t stop myself from picturing gorgeous Auguste every time I pick up my book…

So yeah, maybe I’m the problem here. Me and my trust issues. Because it makes sense for us to be on the same schedule. To be caught in proximity. Logistics…

Except. It happens again. And again.

And again.

By the fifth morning in a row, I’m FaceTiming Delilah, venting my thoughts while pacing across the living room.

“I’m telling you, he’s just…always there,” I say, glancing at the coffee he left with the doorman this morning.

Delilah raises a perfectly arched brow—she’s enjoying my unraveling far too much. “You know who else ‘just shows up’ like that? Serial killers.”

I snort. “That’s... reassuring.”

“I’m just saying, if you turn up dead in a ditch, I’m going to be so mad at you.”

“You’re the one who’s constantly pushing me to let him in and?—”

Delilah lifts a finger like she’s about to give the final word on the matter. “This is personal preference, so take it as you may… but, if I’m gonna get offed, it better be after a mind-blowing orgasm and the kind of dick that rewires my personality. If your potential murderer smells like a sex god on the way to Pound Town and knows your coffee order, you better let him rearrange your guts first.”

I choke on my spit. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m just being practical!”

Ugh…“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I’m ending this call.” The roll of my eyes only makes her grin wider.

“You’re into the hockey stalker. Say it out loud?—”

I hang up on her cackle.

The next morning,I wake up earlier with a plan to fluster Auguste.

The Comets are spending the day at Disneyland; if I’m going to get there on time, I need to get an Uber in the next five minutes.

I slip out the side entrance, hair still damp, earbuds in, zero makeup, dressed in an oversized tee and bike shorts.

He’s not going to catch me this time,I tell myself, pausing when a pang of disappointment cuts through my chest.

The stupid thing about my plan is that Delilah is right—I look forward to coming downstairs every morning to find Auguste waiting for me. I’ve never had a guy do that before—show up even when I am a brat. Especially then. I think Auguste likes that stubborn and snarky part of me the most.

Now, here I am trying to pull a fast one on him even though I’m cutting my nose off to spite my face. It’s ridiculous and I’m in half a mind to turn around and go back inside, wait for him to get here.

Then I see him.

Leaning against his Lexus like he’s been there since dawn. One hand holding a leash, the other holding the Snow White tumbler he bought for me. Samson sits beside him, tiny and smug.

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