Page 34 of Stay
My lips lift in amusement. That’s the effect Brooklyn has on the male species.
“Good. A lot of the guys on the hockey team live off campus, and there’s a party happening next weekend. You can start by loosening up there.”
Well, hell.
My shoulders collapse at that bit of news.
“You can’t just go with Austin?”
If we go to a hockey party, Cole will probably be there and I’m not ready to see him again.
“Cassidy,” she says in a tone full of warning.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” That’s the best she’s going to get from me. Everything that happened last night is too fresh in my mind for me to consider hanging out with Cole anytime soon.
10
CASSIDY
It’s not quite seven in the morning as I run through the sleeping streets of the small-town Western University calls home. The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon, washing everything in a soft pink glow. The air is crisp, the leaves overhead vibrant in their orange, red, and yellow colors.
After the hockey game last week, I made the decision to slowly start incorporating exercise back into my routine again. In high school, I’d spent a ton of time working out and skating. After failing out last year, that had been another thing that had fallen by the wayside. I’ve decided to run three times a week. Okay, so maybe it’s more of a jogging/speed walking type of thing but still…I’m out there, doing it.
I’m pretty sure that counts for something.
Not working out six days a week for the last nine months has taken a toll on my waistline. I used to be muscular and toned all over. Now, not so much. I’m a lot softer than I once was.
One side benefit to working out is that it helps clear my head. I’d spent so much of my high school years exercising that this feels like a little piece of normal clicking back into place. Today, I haven’t stopped once to walk, and I’m already twenty-five minutes into myrun. I push myself a bit more and turn onto Elm Street for my usual loop.
Just as I round the corner, another jogger comes into view. He has a long-legged stride that eats up the sidewalk between us. I veer to the right so we can pass each other. When he’s about thirty feet from me, my belly hollows and I realize that it’s Cole. He looks more delicious than any sweaty guy has a right to. I, on the other hand, know that my face is beet red as if I could stroke out at any moment. When our gazes collide, he slows his pace before stopping about five feet away. I have no choice but to do the same. Nerves scamper across my exposed flesh.
His smile is tentative as his eyes drift over me. “Hi.”
He doesn’t even sound winded.
“Hi,” I huff, trying to catch my breath. Even though my heart is racing, I doubt it’s from the physical exertion. That’s the kind of effect Cole has on me.
I half expect him to jokingly throw out a stalker comment, but he doesn’t. Guess we’ve moved on from that. It should make me happy, instead it leaves me feeling oddly bereaved. It’s like I can’t have a normal relationship with someone because I’m too screwed up.
His eyes hold mine; their golden intensity arrowing straight through the heart of me, and I shiver in the early morning sunlight.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks.
“Great.”Lie.“How about you?”
In all honesty, I’m not sure if I want to know. I’m half afraid he’s already moved on to a nice, normal girl. One who doesn’t fall apart when he touches her.
Awkwardness descends like a heavy blanket, until it feels as if I could choke on it. What sucks most is that all of the other times we’ve been together, our banter felt effortless. This is anything but. All I can think about is escaping before this situation jackhammers to an all new low.
“I’ve been busy with school and practice,” he says. His eyes are focused intently on mine as if he’s trying to figure out what’s going on between us.
When he opens his mouth to say more, I cut him off, needing to pull the plug on this disastrous conversation. “I bet. Well, I’d better get back to it.”
His lips lift at the edges, but it’s nowhere near a full-fledged smile. Not like the ones he showered on me before he realized I was a nutjob. There are definitely no dimples in sight.
I wince.
Why does that even matter?
