Page 18 of On Merit Alone
Something felt strange just letting him go like this.
“Um, Ira?” I piped up, my mouth working without my brain’s permission. His name tasted foreign on my lips. Even though I’d been reading and hearing it over and over again, this was the first time I was speaking it out loud. The mere act of it made me blush.
He stopped, his head lifting over his shoulder at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”
Ripping off the band-aid, I just went for it. “Good luck tonight. It’s amazing what you guys are doing out there.”
The smile he let spread over his features did things to my insides, his words scorching me yet again. “Merit, if you’re trying to tell me you’re my biggest fan, just say that.”
It was me who turned and walked away this time.
And yep, I walked awayburning.
Chapter Seven
Ira
You knowthat feeling when someone’s watching you?
Not to be conceited, but I got that feeling all the time. No, this wasn’t arrogance. People are literally watching me all the time. On the court, out in public, even other athletes in the Mountaineer Complex seemed to watch me sometimes.
I understood. I was a public figure. I’d signed up to be watched. And for the most part, I was used to it.
But there was something about the current feeling that was throwing me off. On top of the prickling sensation that whoever had their eyes on me was doing more than just ogling a semi-celebrity, I felt like I was being studied. Which was sort of creepy when there was no one in plain sight.
Usually, fans wanted to be seen. Creepers didn’t.
And the craziest part about this was I’d felt it before.
More specifically, I’d felt this same feeling a few nights ago during our game.
I didn’t usually peek into the stands when I was playing. There was always too much going on for me to want to find somebody out there, plus I had a game to focus on. But that night I didn’t have tosearch for anyone. It was as if, on instinct, my senses pulled my attention straight toward the only person who could have been giving me that feeling. The only person who could make me feelwatched, even in a fully packed stadium of twenty-plus thousand others doing just that.
I knew it was her even then. Because Merit had a way of looking that was more like staring holes into you. And there she sat in the crowd,staring.
Her face was unreadable, not like I was worried about that anyway. But just—usually, people came to a basketball game to enjoy it. She didn’t look to be enjoying it, though. And coming off my conversation with her in the office lobby, I had the distinct and totally random thought that Merit Jones probably didn’t enjoy many things. Or maybe she did, but she didn’t let herself fully feel it. And I was so curious as to why.
Now, as I worked on shooting my usual pre-practice warm-up shots, I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew who was causing the feeling again.
“Are you going to show your face or keep watching me from your hiding place all day?” I called out into the mostly empty gym. No one else was around. I usually came out the hour before practices to get my shots in, so it would be at least that long before my team started showing up.
The Mountaineer Stadium and Sports Complex consisted of an arena and three practice courts. The majority of our practices were held on the practice courts, but like Merit, I liked to get down to the arena whenever I could. And seeing as the biggest events happening here lately have all been basketball related, the courts were still intact and usable whenever I came by.
Somewhere in the stands to the right of me, I heard a small crashing noise. It was followed quickly by a hushed curse and the sound of feet shuffling around. I don’t know why, but my lip curled in immediate amusement.
This girl was something, alright.
“Merit,” I said between dribbles. “If we keep meeting like this, I’m going to have to report you. Stalking is a serious offense.”
Instantly, she appeared, popping out from behind the stands and spreading her hands along her hips. My smirk remained as she came into view. Her huffiness didn’t surprise me considering her adamant denial when I teased her in the offices. She wasn’t much of a joker, that’s for sure. Which made her all the more fun to mess with.
“I'm not stalking you,” she called from her spot in the distance.
“You were literally hiding in the stands watching me. That is textbook stalking.”
A beat of silence passed in which I couldhearher thinking. But she stepped up to the challenge like I was learning she always did. “Whatever! You don’t own the court. I work here too.”
Lifting a shoulder, I agreed. But I doubted she could even tell from the distance she was keeping. Inclining my head, I tried to get a peek at her expression from so far away. No dice. The outskirts of the court had this cast of darkness, and the stands weren’t lit up either.
