Page 31 of Chasing After You
I pull myself up, and Wilson smirks. “I would have offered to give you a hand, but I’m not Wonder Woman, so I didn’t think you’d want it.”
“Very funny. Your turn, buddy. I hope you don’t need a hand yourself,” I remark back, taking it in stride.
Wilson holds his arm up, flexing to make his pectoral muscle pop out dramatically. “With these guns? No thanks, man,” he replies, laughing quietly. He looks over my shoulder, and I turn to see what he’s looking at, but it only further sours my mood.
Mirabelle and Quinn are chatting, and whatever he said has her head tipped back as she laughs. Mira’s smile is wide, and she looks . . . beautiful. Beautiful is the only word that comes to mind when I look at her.
I haven’t let myself linger too much on this morning. When Quinn was bandaging her hand, I told her to look at me to distract her from the blood. It felt like she was looking into the inner depths of my soul, but I think I liked it?
I certainly like it more when she looks at me instead of Quinn.
Shaking my head, I turn back to Wilson, who is eyeing me knowingly. “You cool with that? I think he’s actually interested in her.”
No, it makes my blood boil, but I can’t explain why. “They’re both adults. As long as they aren’t photographed together, I don’t care.” It feels like a lie, but what else am I supposed to say?
“Whatever you say.” Wilson snorts, clearly not buying my bullshit.
As Mirabelle’s melodic laughter echoes through the room, I can’t keep my eyes from drifting back toward them. Is Quinn actually interested in her, or is he interested in finding out how flexible she is?
As if she can tell I’m watching, Mirabelle looks over at us, smiling at me. Her cheeks are flush with happiness, and I instinctively smile back, pushing Quinn’s motives to the back of my mind.
She turns back to him, saying something quickly before beginning to walk toward us. Selfishly, I take the opportunity to check her out, lingering on those heels she loves to wear, drifting upward to her long, tanned legs to the pencil skirt and blouse she’s wearing. Her light blonde hair is pulled back into a high ponytail on her head, swishing behind her as she walks.
Goddamn.
I didn’t notice earlier what she wore to work today because I was annoyed she told my friends about my love for Wonder Woman, but I think those heels are starting to grow on me. I shouldn’t care what she wears or what shoes she’s wearing, regardless of how amazing they make her legs look. I shouldn’t be wondering what it would be like to wrap my fingers around her ponytail to pull it back so I can see the look on her face—fuck, what is wrong with me?
Mirabelle pulls her ponytail over her shoulder, twisting the strands between her fingers, and I’m jealous. I’m fucking jealous, especially since I have no business thinking about her in that way in the first place. “Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?” she asks, and I look at Wilson to see if he needs me to spot for him. I was lifting light with our first game coming up this weekend, so he should be fine.
“I told you I didn’t need a hand. This is easy, go talk to your girlfriend,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“I hope that bar falls on you.”
Mirabelle hits my arm with the back of her hand, shooting me a look. “That’s mean.”
“So was telling my friends this morning about an embarrassing moment, but you said it anyway,” I grumble under my breath as she laughs at my misery, leaving me to follow after her. Not that I mind, because it gives me the perfect opportunity to look at her ass.
Mirabelle leads us to a quiet corner of the gym, and I quickly wipe away the sweat running down my face using the bottom of my shirt. When I drop it, her face is a flaming shade of red. What the hell is her deal?
“You good?” I question, and she makes a weird, high-pitched sound that I think was supposed to be a laugh.
“Yeah. Perfect, I—uhm—I wanted to ask you about something quick?” she stammers, and it feels like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. It was foolish of me to think that she actually wanted to talk to me about something; instead, Quinn asked her out, and she wants to go out with him. Except, everyone already thinks we’re together. I fucking knew this fake dating thing wasn’t going to work.
“If you want to date Quinn, it’s fine. All I ask is that you guys are careful so no one sees you,” I say, not interested in hearing her gush about how charming my friend is. I don’t want to hear her talk about anyone that way, but especially not Quinn.
Her eyes widen in shock, staring at me in disbelief. “Wait—I’m sorry. What the hell are you talking about?”
After everything today, I’m not sure I have it in me to even pretend to be kind about this.
“It’s obvious that you like him, and vice versa. I’m cool with it, but maybe try not to make it so obvious to other people since, you know,we’re supposed to be dating.” I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against the wall.
“Obvious?” her voice rises in pitch, and I look around to see if anyone is paying attention to us. “Oh my god, Henry. You’re an ass,” Mirabelle hisses at me, in a quieter tone, frowning. “I was going to ask if you were cool with my best friend, Emily, staying a couple nights at the house.”
Huh?
“So this isn’t about Quinn?” I ask, starting to feel like the ass she keeps calling me.
The murderous look she gives me reminds me so much of the one I see her mother give Sebastian sometimes. “No. It’s not about Quinn. Fuck, men are idiots.” Mirabelle scoffs, walking away, but she immediately turns right back around to stand in front of me. She opens her mouth but hesitates before closing it. She frowns again, and I’m staying absolutely silent because clearly, I keep saying the wrong things. I’m a little afraid that the next time I say something, she’ll kick me in the balls instead of telling me what an ass I am. I wouldn’t put it past her.
