Page 68 of Bad Crush
“Are you ready to go?”I ask, stretching my legs out in front of me. My right foot is asleep from this weird angle I’ve been sitting in for the past hour. Reagan’s study spot on the stage in the theater is about the most uncomfortable I can imagine. But she’s here, so I keep coming back.
I should be home packing for our away games, but I couldn’t resist spending a little more time with her.
“Just about. First, I have an idea.” She stands, then takes both my hands and helps me to my feet.
“Oh yeah?” It’s amazing how fast my mind can conjure a dozen dirty images.
“Not that kind of idea.” She shoves at my chest. “Stay here.”
She leaves me on the stage and hops down, and walks toward the last row of seats. There is a podium that I never really noticed before, but within a couple of seconds of stepping to it, Reagan has the lights dimmed and a spotlight on the center of the stage.
I squint to see her. “I can’t see shit now.”
“That’s the idea. But we can see you.”
“We?” I scan the darkened theater.
“Royal we. It’s just me, but use your imagination. It’s the night of your big scholarship banquet, and a room full of doctors are eager to hear your speech.”
Sweat beads on my forehead. “You want me to give my speech here?”
“Why not?”
“I have about a thousand really awesome reasons why not.”
“You said you need to practice.” Her voice sounds closer, but I still can’t see her.
“I know.” And I really do. The banquet is coming up fast, and I’m not prepared. I jump from the stage and instantly feel calmer. Reagan stands in the aisle halfway between me and the podium.
“How about I give you the speech back at my place?”
“You tend to get distracted with all this when we’re at your place.” She makes a circle with one hand, motioning to her boobs.
“It isn’t my room. I’m distracted by them right now.”
She crosses her arms over her chest like that’s gonna help. I still know they’re there, and I can recall them in oh so vivid detail from memory.
“Okay,” I give in.
She grins, lets her arms fall, and my eyes go straight to her rack. I can recall them, but it’s always better to get a good look in person.
“Get back up there, stud.”
I groan, but I walk back to the stage and hop onto it. I shield my eyes again as the light blinds me. “Can you at least turn off the homing beacon?”
“Oh, fine, but for the record, you look damn good in the spotlight.”
In the dark, I can make out her silhouette, but I can’t read her expression.
“I don’t know how you do this. I’m sweating bullets, and I know there’s no one out there but you.”
“I find it much harder to speak to one person versus a crowd of people.”
“I so don’t get that.” I blow out a long breath. My pulse ticks faster.
“You’re stalling, Dr. Scott.”
“Okay, okay.” I pace a few steps, getting my thoughts together.
