Page 45 of Catch
Instead of waiting around being anxious, I head for my class. I’m an hour early, but I don’t care. Sitting on a bench outside the lecture hall, I palm my phone and debate texting Jett. Even though I freaked out and ran, I don’t want him to think it had anything to do with him or what he confided to me.
Ethan: Sorry I left so abruptly. It had nothing to do with you or anything you said.
I just can’t handle my feelings.
I wait for a response but there’s nothing. Minutes pass and every single one feels like an hour. I’m about to call him when I see three dots appear on my screen.
Jett: Are you okay?
Ethan: Yeah, I forgot I had to do something, which happens a lot with me. Like I told you, sometimes I’m all over the place. I have a hard time managing my time. And I tend to overreact when I realize I’ve fucked up. But it’s all good.
Jett: Alright. I understand.
Does he? Jett has no freaking clue what I’m thinking or feeling. EvenIdon’t know that I’ll ever be able to explain it.
Ethan: Let’s skip the call tonight. We have a meeting with Dane and the organizers on Friday. We can chat about Welcome Day then.
Jett: That works for me.
Of course it does. He’s probably relieved to be rid of me. After all, I’ve been pestering him for days. Weeks. Jeez, am I acting like his scuzzy ex? What am I doing?
Nothing. I’ll do nothing. This will be the end of it.
My phone stays silent. Since I’m bored now, and I’ve got time to kill before my lecture, I tap on my photo album and start scrolling through my pics. I’ve got a shitload from Silas and Damien’s recent wedding, and of course there’s a ton of Jett in there. I delete or crop the ones that have Renner, who was the volunteer photographer, in them. I don’t need to see his annoying face. I’ve also got snaps that some of my fellow students took during our soccer game, and there’s plenty of Jett in those too.
For the next hour, I get busy studying. No, not for my economics class.
I’m memorizing every angle of Jett Hawthorne. So much for letting it go. I’m fixated when I’m on the ice, but now it seems that’s playing out with my newest friend. Or notfriend? I have no idea what Jett and I are. I’ve never reacted to anyone like this before, and I don’t know what to make of it.
Then I take it a step further and open my social apps. I search for Jett and follow him on every platform I can find. Most of his content is about rowing, his training routine, practices, and video clips from the Crew’s races. Fuck, he’s a sight to watch. He makes it look so easy when I know it’s not.
Outside of rowing, there’s tons of pictures of his ranch in Nevada. The Silver Feather is wild and beautiful, with endless skies and desert colors that are so saturated they look like they’re painted on. One photo in particular snags all my attention. Jett’s standing in what looks like the entrance to a stable; he’s laughing and the angles of his gorgeous face are highlighted by the sun. He’s looking at the camera, but I swear he’s staring straight at me. With one hand on his horse’s saddle, Jett’s pose is casual, but his gaze is anything but. Those gorgeous green eyes of his should be illegal.
I’m pretty sure I’m drooling as I track over every inch of him, from the tips of his dirty boots to the dusty cowboy hat perched on his head. The final kicker? He’s wearing leather chaps that hug his hips. All kinds of filthy images bombard me as I picture him wearing leather and nothing else. Shit, that’s hot. I already know I’m going to be wanking off to his photo tonight.
End of it, my ass.
“Hey, you. Want some company?”
I startle out of my lusty headspace to find my former hookup, Willow, staring down at me. Her long brown hair is tied in a braid, and she’s got a tight T-shirt on that showcases her full tits. She’s hot and fun in bed, but my interest in her now is nada. I reason it’s because I stick to one and done, and she and I are done. That’s all. Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m obsessing over a guy for the first time in my life.
“Hey.” I nod. “Uh, sure.”
Instead of sitting down, she stares at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Are you feeling okay? Your face is so red.”
I sit up and run a hand over my jaw.
“I came from the gym. I had a hard workout.”
Not yet, but definitely later. Me, my hand, and my dick. The workout of champions.
Willow smiles and takes a seat beside me, her thigh touching mine. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea, so I scoot down the bench a bit in the opposite direction.
“That explains it,” she replies as her gaze maps my body. “You haven’t texted since that night you cancelled on me.”
“I’ve been super busy.”
