Page 31 of Chasing The Goal
His brow furrowed. “Fine-fine or just saying-that-so-I-leave-you-alone fine?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t push it, Prescott.”
He smirked, clearly satisfied I had enough sass to throw back. We climbed out, the cool air licking at my neck as we made our way toward the elevator.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was... full. Not uncomfortable, but heavy in a way that made me too aware of how close he walked beside me. The doors opened and we stepped inside, alone.
Jaymie hit the button for my floor, then leaned against the wall, watching me.
“Still no more urge vomiting?”
I shook my head. “Stomach’s settled. For now.”
He nodded, arms crossed over his chest, hoodie pulled tight over his broad shoulders. God, he was frustratingly attractive. Tall, dark, strong—and somehow also completely unaware of just how good he looked with his curls mussed and his glasses a little foggy.
When the elevator dinged for the eighth floor, I stepped out, keys already in hand.
“Okay, thanks for walking me—”
“I’m coming in.”
I turned, one eyebrow arched. “Jaymie.”
“Just to make sure you eat something,” he said, holding up both hands. “Then I’m gone.”
I hesitated. My gut said to send him away. My gut also hadn’t kept food down in twenty-four hours, so maybe it didn’t get a vote.
“Fine. One hour.”
He grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “I work fast.”
My apartment was tidy—small, but mine. Open-concept kitchen and living room, all white and muted grays, no dining area. Just the breakfast bar and a tiny table in the corner I only ever used for dropping my keys. I watched him as he walked in, taking it all in with those warm brown eyes.
“Looks like a smaller version of mine,” he said, slipping off his boots. “You copy me?”
“Obviously. Everything in my life revolves around you.”
He smirked, toeing the line between charming and cocky. “Clearly.”
I kicked off my shoes and pulled my hair up. “I’m going to change. Make yourself useful.”
“On it.”
I disappeared into my bedroom, pulling on the same gray sweats I lived in on my off-days and one of my old UVM t-shirts. Comfortable, forgettable. My brain felt like static. What the hell was Jaymie doing in my apartment?
Not just being sweet but being gentle. Attentive. Like it wasn’t even a question that he would take care of me. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He wasn’t like Jackson. Not even close.
Not that that meant anything.
I rubbed my face with both hands and shook off the thoughts, but I’d barely pulled my hair into a bun when I heard it.
“Uh, hey... Mal?”
My heart stuttered.
It wasn’t the words—it was the tone. Quiet. Uneasy.
