Page 59 of Lucky Shot
“Then don’t,” he says. “If crowds make you panic, then don’t put yourself in that situation.”
“It’s not that simple,” I tell him.
“It is that simple,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
That look. I’m suddenly reminded of the time that one of the assholes on campus had an issue with me being gay. When I came back to our dorm room upset, he gave me that same look. The next day, the asshole was a broken mess. I saw him on a bench by the arena. When I looked at him, the fear in his eyes was almost consuming. He stuttered an apology and ran away. He would have physically run, but he’d been too badly injured to do so.
I never learned what happened to him. When I told Loren about it, he gave me a vague smile and said, “Good. Hope he learned his lesson.”
“Don’t do anything,” I say quickly, holding my hands up to him. “I mean it, Loren. Don’t do anything.”
Once again, Loren cocks his head to the side. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Just don’t do it. Let me handle this. I love my career, Loren.”
“I would never jeopardize your career,” he says with a frown.
“Please!”
He sighs. “Tell me about your boyfriend.”
This also feels like a minefield. Except… “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Loren frowns again. “Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes. “Honestly! You think I wouldn’t know?”
“Because you’re too pretty?”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to meet someone who doesn’t immediately want something from me because of how I look?” I ask, frustrated.
Almost immediately I regret asking the question. I’m not sure what happened, but a strange expression crosses his face. “Yes,” he answers, as if the question was actually meant to be answered.
“I…” I have no idea what to say. He’s not a bad-looking guy. Far from it. “You’re gorgeous,” I blurt.
Loren blinks at me and then grins. “Thanks.”
I scrub my hand over my face. “Okay, I have no idea what just happened. Did something happen to you? Because of how you look?”
“You mean like being judged based on how I look? Or speak or behave?” he counters.
“Ah,” I say. It’s not his looks he was referring to. The part of him that people find off-putting. “Yeah. You get it.”
“Mm,” he answers. “Tell me about your boyfriend.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I know you’re lying. You’re spending all your time with someone.”
“Virtually,” I say before I can stop myself. Then I wince. I huff out an annoyed breath. How does he always manage to do this?! “I met this guy in a game I play. We’ve exchanged numbers and we text. That’s it. He’s not my boyfriend.”
But the thought that he could be makes everything inside me heat up.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh my fuck, Loren!”
He smirks. His attention moves over my shoulder and his smile fades into something that’s distant.
