Page 7 of Scoring the Player
I think my blood actually starts to boil under my skin. I like Archer and that’s the only reason I don’t tell him to fuck right the hell off. Or sign it, because it’s one of the few signs he taught us that I’ve perfected.
“Ooooh shit.” Teddy chuckles. “You’re poking the bear, Holland.”
“Wait.” Brogan swipes Lucas’s phone from me. “Now I recognize this girl. She’s the one you were talking to last night.”
Saying that we were talking might be a stretch. More like I was trying to ditch Bethany, so I could finally speak to Dahlia alone without her friends, and she was trying to flee as fast as she could.
“The one you almost trampled, you mean?”
“I didn’t see her. Besides, you were all too happy to swoop in and save the day.” He takes a bite of food. “I have never seen a chick run from you so fast. Which makes this video extra curious. Did you screw it up before or after she said she wanted to lick every inch of your torso?”
I grunt.
Brogan keeps on grinning at me.
3
DAHLIA
Unknown Number
Hey, Dahl. It’s Eddie Dillon.
Unknown Number
Penelope gave me your number. Hope you don’t mind me texting you. Hit me back. I want to talk to you about some designs for the tour. X
I stareat the text as my business communication professor begins the lecture. I can’t properly freak out that a rockstar just texted me and asked if we could chat about me designing something for him because I have a nagging feeling that people are watching me. Also, it’s possible that it’s a prank. I’m certainly the butt of many jokes today, thanks to the video of me talking about Felix.
I want to lay my head down on the desk and disappear.
The video didn’t out me by name, probably because they didn’t know it, but it’ll only be a matter of time before someone reveals my identity. What’s worse: going viral and no one on campus being able to identify meorthe things I said in that video?
I wish I could blame it on the alcohol, but I was still perfectly sober when I went on and on (and on and on) about Felix.
Pushing my humiliation aside for the moment, I focus on Eddie’s text. He’s a musician I met while designing a dress for pop star Penelope Hart. Saying that sentence still gives me butterflies. It sounds so surreal. It was a school project. We came up with designs and then she picked her favorite (mine, eeeep!). All of that was crazy enough, but I got to go see her in concert this summer. She was so sweet. Even brought me backstage after the show, which is where I met Eddie. He was opening for her. When he asked if I’d ever consider doing menswear, I thought he was kidding. If this isn’t a prank, it could be a huge break for me.
When class is over, I still haven’t figured out how to respond to his text. I slide out of my seat in the back of the giant lecture hall quickly, so I can get out of here before anyone sees me. I was lucky this morning, managing to get across campus without anyone noticing me. Or as lucky as a girl who had her most intimate and embarrassing thoughts shared on social media can be.
Two years I’ve walked this campus practically invisible, while wishing someone would notice me, and today, the first week of junior year, I’m wishing for some of that freshman and sophomore-level invisibility.
I’m the first one from class out in the hallway, but other classes in the building let out at the same time and the sight of so many people around me makes me instinctively drop my head and shuffle toward the front doors. I have an hour break until my next class, and I have every intention of hightailing it back to the house and hiding until then.
As I’m trying to escape without being seen, I think I hear someone call my name. Oh god. Did they finally figure out who the girl is rambling on for five minutes about how she wants to climb Felix Walters? Freaking hell, what was I thinking?
Most people take the stairs—we’re only on the third floor, but I make a last-minute decision to take the elevator to avoid the crowd of people already moving up and down between floors.
I hit the down button and the doors open immediately. As the metal doors close me in, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Very short-lived relief. A hand shoots between the doors with only a few inches of space, and long, strong fingers push the doors apart. I gasp when I spot Felix.
“Hey,” he says softly.
My face immediately heats, and I squeak my surprise at running into him. I swear I must have done something really awful in a past life. I take back all my other wishes. All I want is to rewind last night and erase everything I said about the guy standing in front of me.
“Can we talk?” he asks, not coming any closer.
“Umm…” I glance around, nod, and then step out of the elevator.
