Page 51 of Chasing After You
“Je ne sais pas.”21 The truth slips quietly out of me, and he tenses, clearly not believing me.
I use this as my chance to escape, because if I don’t, then I’m going to throw myself at Dad for a long hug and I’ll probably tell him everything.
I make a beeline for the doorway, not sparing a second look toward my mother walking into the kitchen because I know that if I do, I’m going to break down.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Henry
“ARE YOU SURE you’re fine?” I ask Mirabelle, leaning to speak in her ear so she can hear me over the pounding bass echoing through the club.
She rests her hand on my chest, staying close to me, and I’ll be damned if that touch doesn’t feel electric. “If I wasn’t, I would have said something.” Mirabelle angles her head back to let me see her reassuring smile, but there’s something missing. I noticed it earlier, but between the game and press conferences afterward, I was a little distracted.
Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and for a second, I consider pulling on it to either make her smile or to finally kiss the hell out of her.For practice, of course.
Stacey pulled us aside earlier to tell me how people are starting to notice we’re never seen together outside of the stadium and team functions. Honestly, I’m pretty sure that’s all I was allowed to do, but she heard some of the guys on the team were going out to celebrate our first win of the season, so we were told to go out and make it look like we’re a couple.
I wish we weren’t here.
I wish we were at the beach house, sitting on our surfboards at sunrise talking about anything and everything.
But that’s not where we are.
“I’m fine, Henry.” Mirabelle leans up to press a short kiss to my cheek, flashing me a quick smile as she slips out the VIP section and into the crowd. Her best friend, Emily, makes her way over to me a minute later, her mouth turned downward in a frown.
“Where did Mira go?” Emily asks, standing close enough for me to hear.
“I think to get a drink,” I say, craning my neck to find Mira in the masses. I had a strong drink shortly after arriving to help numb some of my anxiety over the number of people in this place, but it spikes again at the thought of Mirabelle being by herself.
“Dude, you kind of suck as a fake boyfriend. Are you trying to give other guys an opening to hit on her?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise because I definitely don’t know Emily well enough after for her to say this. “No, I’m not,” I say, but I really hate the fucking idea of other guys going up to Mirabelle.
“Then maybe you should show Mira your caveman declaration wasn’t bullshit,” she says, staring at me with her dark eyes as she pats my arm. I’m not even embarrassed Mirabelle told Emily what I said, because I meant it. Now, I need to prove it.
Quinn is sitting on a couch, making out heavily with a girl who I’m surprised still has clothes on with the way they’re groping each other. Wilson is chatting with a few of his friends from defense, and I make a split-second decision to chase after Mirabelle.
One thing I learned from Thalia and have never forgotten is when a girl says she’s fine, it usually means she isn’t.
I’m careful not to shove anyone over as I make my way to Mirabelle, catching sight of her hot pink strappy top that shows off her cleavage perfectly. I’m not stupid enough to let her get to the bar where she’ll no doubt be hit on like Emily suggested. I catch her wrist loosely, and she turns in surprise.
“You followed me?” she asks, or at least that’s what I think she asks, considering the music is all I can hear.
“You’re hard to resist,” I say, leaning in so I know she can hear me. Her eyes flicker with happiness for the first time all night, and it’s a relief to finally say the right thing.
“If that’s the case, then I’ll let you buy me a drink,” she says, and I grin, leading her to the bar.
Mirabelle orders a vodka cranberry with a splash of lime juice, flashing the bartender a pretty smile before tilting her head my direction. “It’s on his tab,” she says, stirring the drink with the tiny straw before wrapping her lips around it to take a sip.I’d like to know what it feels like having her lips wrapped around something else.Goddamn, I’m a fucking fool for resisting seeing Mirabelle this way for so long.
“It’s under Price,” I add, and the guy nods, ringing it in quickly before moving on to the next customer.
“You don’t want a drink?” she asks.
“I shouldn’t since we’re officially in season,” I say, offering her my arm so we can find a table away from the bustle of the bar. I’m even kind of getting used to the loudness of the music, but it could be that being by Mirabelle makes everything better.
Mirabelle nods, understanding better than anyone. “That’s probably a good idea. You had a great game today.”
“No interceptions,” I say, smiling in relief. My bank account is thanking me, and I hope Owen’s is crying.Suck it, Coach.I threw four touchdowns today, and we won by a thirteen-point lead.
