Page 41 of The Tip-Off
One of the assholes looks slightly remorseful as he offers his help, but when his gaze sweeps Gabby’s body and then stops on the left side of her face, he snickers and mumbles, “Butterface.”
Gabby tenses under my hold and immediately ducks her head, embarrassment clouding her features.
I’ve never understood the expression, seeing red, until now. “What the hell did you say?”
He turns away and I want to follow him and punch him so hard and so many times he rues the day he learned such a dick word, but Gabby is shuffling as quickly as she can in the opposite direction, squeezing her little body between cracks in the crowd that only her tiny form could fit through. I shove people out of my way until I reach her.
“Hey, wait.” I wrap a hand around her wrist, and she turns to me, tears in her eyes. I pull her the rest of the way until she’s leaning against the back wall outside of the restrooms, shielding her from seeing or hearing anything but me.
“That guy’s an idiot.” I wipe a tear with my thumb. Her lip quivers and she refuses to meet my gaze, so I tip her chin up with a hand. When her greenish-blue eyes finally look into mine like she’s waiting for me to erase the bad by saying all the things she wants to believe about herself instead, my chest gets tight. “Beautiful,” I croon out the word, not sounding the least like Pharrell.
Her lips tip up though encouraging me to continue the verse. I’m trying to hear the rest of the song in my head to remember what comes next when her hands come up to rest on my chest and she pushes onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips to my cheek. It’s soft and unsure. Sweet and surprising and all the things inherently good about Gabby.
When she pulls back, my lips tingle with need to reciprocate, to show her exactly how beautiful I think she is. Instead, I nod to the ladies’ room. “I’ll wait here and then we can get back out there and show off our killer dance moves again.”
She smiles, though it’s small and doesn’t reach her eyes and a fresh desire to hunt down the asshole that made her upset makes me ball my hands into fists. “I just want to go home.”
19
Gabby
Sunday evening,Blair is still hanging around my apartment. After we left the club last night, she took one look at me and demanded answers. She hasn’t left my side since. She even slept in my room at the cabin, leaving Wes sad-faced and completely cock blocked.
“I’m fine. Seriously. Go study. I know you have a test tomorrow.”
She still doesn’t budge.
Making an X over my heart, I say, “Cross my heart. I’m really okay. It happened. It’s happened before. It’s probably going to happen again. I’m okay.”
“Why don’t you come with me to The White House? The guys usually have movie nights on Sunday, so you can hang with them while Wes and I study.”
“And make out.”
“I don’t have time for making out. Well, not much time. Come on.” She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout.
“Fine, fine. It beats sitting here by myself. Can you bring me back after or are you staying at Wes’ tonight?”
“Probably staying, but I can drop you off later.”
The White House is the quietest I’ve ever heard it. Wes is waiting in the TV room with bags of takeout, books spread out on chairs and he’s wearing the reading glasses I know Blair likes so much. The way her eyes light up at seeing her boyfriend… yep, no way I’m going in there.
“Where is everyone? I thought it was movie night.”
“Joel is at Katrina’s house and I think Nathan went to the dorms. Zeke’s upstairs.”
“Then that’s where I’ll be,” I say to the room. Wes and Blair either don’t hear me or just don’t answer.
On the way up the stairs to the second level, I can hear a basketball bouncing off the gym floor.
The door closes loudly behind me and Zeke looks up to see who has intruded on his space. “Back at it, I see.”
“Hey. What are you doing here?” His smile stretches wide and some of the nerves I had about seeing him fall away.
“I came with Blair. She and Wes are studying downstairs.” I take a seat on the sidelines, prop my back up against the wall, and pull out my craft thread to make a new bracelet. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to bother you. I just didn’t want to be the third wheel.”
He dribbles the ball over to me and I get a good look at him shirtless and glistening with sweat. The ball in his giant hands eases his features and relaxes his shoulders. I’ve seen it before, but it still amazes me the way he physically changes when he’s holding a basketball. He looks younger and happier. Dare I say carefree even.
“On second thought.” I push to my feet. “Can you help me dunk? I’ve always wanted to, but you know.” I motion in front of all five foot four inches of me.
