Page 19 of Chasing The Goal
OH MY GOD THE CUTE ONE WITH GLASSES
why?!?
We work together. Also technicallyseeing someone?
TWO DATES FROM TINDER DO NOT COUNT
especially if you’re thinking about the OTHER GUYDAILY
It felt… safer. Professional. Less messy.
Love isn’t safe. It’s messy, loud, stupid and amazing.
Also he’s hot and you’re clearly into him so WHAT ARE YOU DOING
I groaned, resting my head on my forearm.
She wasn’t wrong.
But she wasn’t here. She didn’t see the way Jaymie looked at me like I was already something to lose. She didn’t know how badly I needed my job to be clean, focused, untangled.
Still… the moment I said no, I’d seen it. That little flicker of something behind Jaymie’s eyes, right before he smiled like it didn’t matter.
But it had.
And now I had to pretend it didn’t matter to me too.
Mallory
The elevator doors slidopen with a muted chime, and I stepped out beside Jackson Phillips, doing my best to look like I hadn’t just spent the ride up wondering how I was going to fill the silence between us. He was talking about himself again. Something about crypto, maybe? Or his dog’s raw food diet? Honestly, I’d stopped keeping track around the time he referred to his ex as “emotionally inefficient.”
I smiled, nodded at the right beats, and hoped I didn’t look as disconnected as I felt.
Then the front doors opened—and in walked Jaymie Prescott.
Of course.
He was wearing a beanie, a worn-in hoodie, and his usual glasses, fogged slightly from the cold. He carried a gym bag slung over one shoulder and had earbuds in, one dangling as he pulled the other out and spotted me.
For a split second, the air in the lobby changed.
His steps slowed. His gaze flicked from me to Jackson and back again. And everything in my chest tightened like a reflex.
“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual, not at all caught off guard.
Jaymie’s eyes didn’t leave Jackson. “Hey.”
Jackson, of course, took that as his cue. He stepped forward with the kind of puffed-out-chest confidence that belonged to guys who peaked during Greek Week.
“Jackson Phillips,” he said, offering a hand like we were about to negotiate a startup deal. “And you are?”
Jaymie blinked, clearly thrown off by the handshake attempt. He took it slowly. “Jaymie Prescott.”
“Ah, the hockey guy,” Jackson said, like he’d just solved a riddle.
Jaymie’s smile was polite. Barely. “Yup.”
“I keep meaning to catch a game,” Jackson added. “But Mallory said you’re benched right now, yeah?”
