Her cheeks flush when our eyes meet. I don't even try to stop smiling. She's adorable.
"Looks like you've sprained your ankle and pulled a muscle in your quad," she says matter of fact, ignoring the connection between us and avoiding my gaze. She scribbles on a piece of paper on her clipboard, and before I can ask her another question, she says, "Luckily it isn't bad, but you're still going to have to sit out of practice for a few weeks until it heals."
"A few weeks?" The information stings, bringing me back into the present. A few weeks is when we play in the Cali Bowl. I grit my teeth, already willing my damn leg to heal itself faster.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," she says. "Take it as an opportunity to relax and slow down." She finally looks at me, and this time she gives me a sincere smile. It's gorgeous, and it does exactly what she just said—relaxes my nerves and slows time.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"Nurse Adams," she says with a knowing look. I want to press further, but I can tell she doesn't want me to. For now, I settle on watching her like an obsessed boy with a crush. And maybe that's precisely what I am.
She grabs something from the cabinet and returns with an ankle brace and three teal green pills. "Just lay low for a few days. Don't walk on it, keep it elevated, ice it, and take some Advil," she says, handing me the pills. "Three—for swelling." When she drops them in my palm, an electric current zaps me where our skin touches. I look at her, wondering if she felt it too, but she's already heading to the far end of the room.
I manage to sputter the only thing on my mind. "When will I get to see you again?"
With her back turned to me, I can see the woman's muscles tense for a moment. Then she says over her shoulder, "Hopefully, you won't need to."
"What if it flares up again?" I ask, unsure what this feeling is that's possessed me. I have to see her again. I have to get to know her.
She heads back toward me with a pair of crutches in one hand and a cup of water in the other. The reserved, shy smile she flashes me makes my heart stop. "Then, I'll be right here." We stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks eye contact and looks at the floor. I want to ask her a million questions, but I can tell it isn't the right time, even though there's something in her eyes that hints that she wants to do the very same thing.
I take the cup of water and gulp down the pills. The mystery woman takes this moment to appraise me. Her gorgeous blue irises slow down as they make their way over my midsection, and then she notices me noticing her and blushes. She quickly hands me the crutches, careful not to touch me in the handoff. So, she did feel the spark.
She helps me stand up and opens the door, ushering me back into the hallway. I stare at her with a million questions running through my mind, but none make their way to the surface. I must look like a dumbstruck fool standing here in the hallway, struggling to say anything at all.
"Just remember this is temporary," she says comfortingly, probably assuming my idiotic facial expression is due to me obsessing over this injury and not her. "You'll heal up in no time, Ethan."
The look on her face when my name slips from her lips is as if she's just revealed her deepest inner secret. I'm not sure why my name would do that to her. Everyone in the sports program seems to know who I am. Nevertheless, her previous blush deepens, and she turns and closes the door in my face, leaving me with all kinds of unanswered questions about her.
Chapter Two
Chloe
I wait until he's halfway down the hall before sneaking a peek. I watch, entirely bewitched by the way his muscular frame moves. I don't know how many years it's been since I've seen Ethan Figueroa. God, it must have been back in elementary school the last time we spoke. He was the first crush I ever had. The moment I recognized his handsome face, my breath caught in my throat, and heat flooded my core. How can an elementary school crush last for so long?
The word seems so silly. Elementary. I plop down on the empty patient table where Ethan just sat, absentmindedly replaying the subtle movements of his muscles as he flexed for me. He's changed so much since elementary school. I mean, obviously, I didn't expect him to still be showing off his light-up Sketchers and pulling up his oversized shorts. I just mean that he's grown into exactly the kind of handsome athlete I would have expected. And the way his full lips curved into a sexy grin when he looked at me… I shiver involuntarily. I haven't felt that attracted to anyone before.
I smile to myself, shocked at seeing him again after all these years. The way he looked at me made it seem like he recognized me, that maybe he felt the same way. But that's silly. So much time has passed since we were friends. He's probably not the same person I remember, and it's ridiculous to think that he would be. If Ethan's anything like the typical footballers here, he's a partier and a player, and that's just not like me.
Still, I wish I had said something to him. Why couldn't I have said, "Hey, Ethan! Remember me?" Surely it wouldn't have been weird to tell him how much I've missed him after all these years. Right? The truth is, I was so shocked to see him again that I was almost rendered dysfunctional. I close my eyes and silently vow to myself that the next time I see Ethan, if I see him again, I will absolutely speak up. A flicker of worry floods through me at the thought of not seeing him again. Though, it's got to be ridiculous to feel this way at all. I hadn't expected to see him ever again after we split ways for middle school, so it shouldn't change a thing that today our paths crossed for a moment.
I square my shoulders and try to get back to work, shaking the image of his perfect backside out of my head. But I can't help the bubbling excitement from building in my stomach at the thought of seeing him again. Just like when I was a kid, Ethan Figueroa is all I can think of.
* * *
The moment I walk through the door to my apartment, Jolene knows somethings up.
"Why are you smiling?" she says. Suspicion crinkles her freckled face and twists the corner of her mouth into a hint of a grin. My roommate sits up from the couch and closes her half-eaten bag of Fritos, tossing her curly red hair over her shoulder and staring me down as if I'm walking into an interrogation room.
Damn it, I don't think I could play it cool if my life depended on it. "I just had a good day, that's all." I drop my bag by the door, slip off my sneakers, and head to the kitchen sink to wash my hands, avoiding Jolene's gaze at all costs. That woman is like a hellhound always on the scent for gossip and girl talk—two things I generally try to avoid.
In two strides, Jolene is by my side. She crosses her arms and leans against the kitchen counter, her smile getting wider by the second. "It's a boy, isn't it."
I roll my eyes. "Why does a boy have to be the reason I'm smiling?" I head for the living room, but she blocks me.
"I know you, Chloe. And I'd know that look on any woman. Now spill. Who is he?"
"Who's who?" Sophie, my other roommate, pops her gorgeous face into the living room. "Did I hear Chloe's got a boyfriend?" She ducks back into the other room for a moment before heading in to join us, wearing a towel wrapped around her head and another around her torso, makeup on half her face.
I let out a chuckle. These ladies are unbelievable. "Since when did you become boy crazy, Sophie?" But I already know the answer to my own question. Ever since she started dating the hunky Tempt U. hockey player, Parker Hayes. She used to be just like me—dedicated to her studies and no time for fun or guys. Enter Parker, a fine specimen, if I do say so, and suddenly Sophie's all in for the "f" word… fun.
"Don't change the subject," Sophie says. She joins Jolene in blocking my path, and the two of them give me crazy eyes. Though it's somewhat exciting to finally have something to talk about with them, I definitely don't want to share my inner feelings with two women who couldn't be more different from me. I'm okay sharing my apartment with them, but this? Nuh-uh.
They stare me down with determined looks on their faces, the likes of which I've never seen before.
Dang it, there's no way I'm ge
tting out of this.
"Fine," I say, but a grin already slides itself back on my face at the thought of Ethan. I try to tell them just the basics—that I ran into an elementary school friend today, and that's all that happened. But once I start talking about Ethan, it's like the floodgates open, and suddenly I'm gushing about why he was so amazing. I tell them how we used to have crushes on each other, how I'd carry his backpack to class, how he'd sit with me at lunch, and anytime he got hurt during recess, I'd kiss his boo-boos and make him feel better. Funny how things have come full circle, in a way.
If their faces were emojis, Sophie and Jolene would have heart eyes bugging out of their faces right now.
"That is so adorable!" Sophie coos and claps her hands together. "An elementary school crush. It's like in the movies."
"I can't believe you still remember him. Was he like, the king of kickball or something?" Jolene asks.
I purse my lips, trying to prevent a smile from betraying me once again. "There was just always something about him. He was the athletic one, for sure, and even in elementary school, all the girls wanted him. But I was shy."
"No. Chloe? Shy?" Jolene and Sophie make mockingly shocked faces.
I smile. "Well, it was elementary school. Obviously, nothing was going to happen."
"What, no playdates?" Jolene teases.
I bite my lip. "Actually, now that you mention it, I do remember a few playdates between us."
Sophie's jaw almost drops to the floor. Jolene smirks.
"It wasn't anything, really," I say, waving my hand dismissively. But my roommates have already sat on the kitchen counter and are leaning forward with their chins in their hands, ready for me to keep revealing my past love secrets. I roll my eyes but smile anyway because, to be honest, it is sort of fun getting to share my feelings about him after all this time.
"It was a MarioKart party," I say like that's all the info they're getting.
"For two?" Sophie pries.
I nod my head once. "Yes."
"Ohmygawd, that's adorable." Jolene shakes her head like she can't believe the level of cuteness in my story.
"Our parents thought so too," I add despite myself.
"Oh!" Sophie perks up expectantly, and I can't help myself. More memories flood back to me, and I have to tell them.
I lean against the sink and spill. "I remember he called me after school one day to ask for the homework, and I could barely squeak out a response."
Jolene jumps up from the counter and puts her hands up. "God, this is too cute. I can't handle it anymore."
"So, when are you going to see him again?" Sophie smiles at me.
I shrug my shoulders. "Oh, I don't know. I didn't exactly… tell him that I recognized him."
Sophie shakes her head like she doesn't understand why I would do such a thing, and Jolene just stares at me like I'm insane.
"What? Explain. Everything." Jolene jumps back on the counter, and I tell them how I was pretty much speechless and in shock at seeing him after all these years. I leave out the part about how attracted to him I was. But I guess I can't hide it in my voice, because they're giving me those dang secret smiles again, like they know something I'm not telling them. Though, that may be because I let slip a few details about his beautiful body, and how it really seemed like he was interested in me.
"No offense, but how would you know if a guy was attracted to you, miss virgin?" Jolene asks.
Sophie slaps her arm. "She may not have experience, but a girl can tell." She turns to me then and says, "Can't you."
I nod. "Yes." Heat fills my cheeks. I avert my eyes, embarrassed.
"Damn, he must be hot to get even shy Chloe to blush like that!" Jolene says. "I want to see. Let's look him up." Before I can protest, she rushes into the living room and plops down at her desktop computer. Sophie and I follow, and in half a second, she has a new Facebook tab open and her typing fingers at the ready. "What's his name?"
I press my lips together. "I don't know, it seems stalkerish. I never go on social media anyway. Plus, I don't want him to know we're looking him up."
Jolene gives me a you poor thing look. "He won't know, Chloe. Not if I search. I'm the queen of social media stalking."
I cross my arms, suddenly terrified of taking this step. What if I look Ethan up and don't like what I find? Or worse, what if I do like what I find and become way too hopeful? An inner voice asks me, Why would that be a bad thing?
In a single second, a million thoughts fly through my head in response to that question. Why would it be a bad thing to finally feel connected to someone after the last four years of being a loner? It seems like a great thing, to be honest. But like my roommates said, everyone's got their eyes on Ethan. He's going places after college, and I'll be going back home to Texas. Truth is, I'm grateful as ever for my experiences here at Tempt University, but being a sports nurse just isn't what I thought it would be. It would hurt too badly to get attached and then have to part ways with him all over again. It's better if I just keep to myself. "I'm not telling you," I say decidedly.
Sophie ignores me entirely and tells Jolene, "Chloe said he's the running back. Just look up the team members."
Jolene's fingers fly over the keyboard, and in two seconds, his picture pops up on the official Tempt University football team website. "Bam," she says. "Ethan Figueroa."
"Oh damn, he's the running back that everyone is talking about," Sophie says, narrowing her eyes at the description under his photo. "I heard a lot of NFL scouts want him on their teams."
"And a lot of girls who want him in their beds." Jolene makes wiggly eyebrows at me. I wave her off, but the thought upsets me for some reason. It's not like I have any claim over him. Still, the idea that my sweet elementary school crush would have been with any woman, let alone multiple, makes me feel odd. Maybe it's because I haven't dated much. Or at all, really. I guess it's hard to date when your dad is a known cheater. But I digress.
Jolene starts typing into a new tab and says, "I've got to get to class now, but while I'm gone, I'll just leave this here for you…" Ethan's Facebook profile pops onto the screen, and I'm immediately captivated by a fantastic picture of him in his high school football gear.
"Oh boy, she's already obsessed." Jolene jokes. She pats me on the shoulder, grabs her backpack, and heads out the door.
Sophie says, "I have to get ready for my date with Parker," then winks at me and prances into her room, shutting the door behind her.
And now it's just Ethan and me. I know it's a bad idea, but I can't help myself. I click on a photo album, and the first picture that pops up is one of Ethan shirtless on the beach, with two beautiful blonde women pouring some kind of alcohol down his throat and laughing like they're having the time of their lives. My stomach sinks. I plop down onto the desk chair, feeling somewhat defeated. It's stupid to think we'd be together. Ethan is a partier, a socialite, a player. Nothing like me.
My eyes gravitate toward his profile picture once more, and my heart throbs. Dang, he's handsome. He's every bit of attractive I knew he'd grow up to be. And when we spoke earlier, he seemed just as sweet and thoughtful as I remember. Not like any of the other players that come through the office. Maybe he is different than he appears in these pictures. Perhaps something really can happen between us.
Chapter Three
Ethan
The throbbing in my leg has finally gone down to a dull ache, and I don't know if it's from all the painkillers or if it's because my mind hasn't been able to stop thinking about that nurse.
FWOOSH!
Henley throws a small stuffed football my way, and it smacks right into my stomach. I lurch forward and drop my history textbook and notepad on the floor with a clatter, and a spasm of sharp pain shoots to my ankle. I give him an annoyed expression, but Henley just laughs.
"Why aren't you ready to go yet?" he asks, spraying an ungodly amount of Axe body spray all over.
I hold my breath until the foggy cloud disperses. "What
party?" I choke out.
Henley turns and gives me a curious expression. "Fuji's party? The one with all the chicks and endless booze?"
Honestly, he just described every frat party at Tempt U. But I remember the one he's talking about. I heard something about it on social media a week or so ago but hadn't really looked into it. Last year I would have been all over it, ready to show up and get in all the photos, make sure everyone knew who I was and that I'm the kind of guy you want in your circle. It worked well for me, seeing as once I started on that train, it's been a non-stop locomotive toward popularity and social success. To be honest, I think it has a lot to do with my football success. Partying with my teammates off the field tends to lead to celebrating wins with them on the field. At least, that's how it's always seemed. But somewhere along the line, it all started to get old. Parties just don't have the same allure as they used to. Besides, I've got an ankle to ice tonight.
"I can't go." I gesture to my foot.
Henley shrugs. "Just bring your crutches. Don't be such a wuss. Everyone's going to be there."
"Not me."
Henley shoves his wallet in his pocket and mumbles, "Whatever." Then he heads out without looking back. The door shuts behind him, leaving me with my own thoughts. I throw the football at the door absentmindedly, wondering what is wrong with me. Since when did I go from being the partier to the loner?
I stare at my homework on the floor and realize I have no intention of picking it up or finishing my assignment. I'm bored as hell, and I think I have been for a while.
Then a beautiful smiling face pops into my head—the sports nurse.
Who is she, and why does she feel so familiar? I reach for my laptop in the desk drawer by my bed and plop it on my lap. Soon, I'm searching all over the internet for her. Nurse Adams, she had said. But I can't find her anywhere on social media, or on the sporting staff directory for Tempt University. I look through all my friends' friends on Facebook and Instagram, even Snapchat, but to no avail.
Tempt University: Year One: A College Romance Collection Page 13