“Well, be careful what you wish for.” Hope flashes me a cheeky smile. “Her husband was Hephaestus, and he had a face only a mother could love. Besides”—she peers down at her own name—“I like being Snow White. I’ll get a prince and seven cute dwarfs, right?”
I snort. “I don’t think the organizers respect each storyline that meticulously.”
Hope’s mouth curls down, then she sighs. “Fine. Then just one prince.”
“Finding even one acceptable partner in this mess of losers will be hard,” I murmur.
Hope giggles. “I’m not placing high hopes on my mate. The rules only ask for the pairs to share a drink and a dance. I think I can do that with anyone, as long as he doesn’t puke on me. Even with a bumpkin.”
“Good.” I grin at her. “Because that’s all we’ve got here, I believe.”
We glance around the room to test my last statement’s truth. Unfortunately, I nailed it.
My eyes drift to a group of men in the kitchen. Instead of magical names, the sign, Sober Monitor, is stuck to their neon green shirts. The brightness of their uniform only stresses the smugness on their faces.
Hope follows my glance and shakes her head. “Look at them. They act like they’re the hottest thing since sliced bread. I can’t believe those gals buzzing around them like hungry flies around a juicy peach. Can’t they see that they’ve got no true chutzpah?”
Chutzpah is a word I’ve never heard anyone use except for Hope.
My friend claims that it’s common vocabulary in her hometown. Her mom used it to teach Hope the difference between a spineless jerk—Hope’s father—and a person worthy of one’s love—Hope’s stepmother.
“I don’t think those girls are searching for charisma. It’s enough for them that the guys hold the key element of tonight’s success in their hands”—I wiggle my eyebrows at Hope—“aka, warm keg beer.”
A tall guy with messy brown hair, kind eyes, and a proud chin, steps over to us. “Where did you leave your dwarves, my princess?” he asks Hope and shows his name tag.
It confirms that he’s my friend’s destined date.
Relief floods Hope’s face. “Ah, thank heavens, you’re semi-normal.”
The guy seems startled by her I give it to you straight style, but he must decide that Hope’s spectacular cheekbones and smoky eyes outweigh her snarkiness, because he grins back at her. “Indeed, I am. And you, you’re fabulous. Come, let’s have a drink.”
Hope gives me an apologetic glance, and I nod encouragingly. They march off in the direction of the kitchen.
When I’m alone, I check all the exits at my disposal. There’s a corridor leading to the backyard, but, judging by the snuggly couples sneaking in that direction, it won’t be my best option to escape if I need to. The only other way to leave this party is through the door we used to come in.
After making this mental list, I amble to the table where the party crew laid out the food.
A girl beside me picks up a potato chip, takes a bite, then drops it back into the bowl.
Okaaay…I guess I’ll just make a snack once we get back to our dorms.
I turn and stride back to my previous spot. It’s a rather strategic location, close enough to the toilets if my destined mate turns out to be worse than Hephaestus. Still, far away from the dancers so I don’t get an accidental jab in my ribs.
A chubby guy dashes toward me with an eager glint in his eyes, and I wince. Luckily, he passes by me and heads to the kitchen to refill his plastic cup.
After twenty minutes of standing alone, I’m almost lured into the fantasy that my fairy tale match must’ve already left the party or, better yet, never arrived.
My shoulders relax.
As if the DJ senses my mood, he puts on a song I actually like. I wave my hips to music while my eyes scan the crowd aimlessly.
Out of the blue, a baritone calls out behind my back.
“It seems my hunt is over. At last.”
The voice has a hint of familiarity, though it’s playfully deepened.
I whip around, and my jaw drops when I meet Wyatt’s eyes. With the dimmed light, they glimmer like two Hershey’s Kisses.
My brother’s best friend swipes his longish honey tresses that are infuriatingly stylish—which isn’t fair because I know he does nothing to them besides wash them—behind his ears and grins at me. “Aren’t you going to ask me why my hands are so beastly big?”
His hands? Why would he say that his hands are big?
Wyatt has always carried his solid, trimmed muscles with way more grace than any other boy I’ve ever met. I’ve often thought that part of the reason was his long fingers, which, despite his prominent athlete’s physique, give him the look of a piano player.
Puzzled, I let my glance drift downward.
My eyes zoom in on his black V-neck.
Big Bad Wolf.
“Are you…you’re…” I stutter like a fool.
“The scary predator whose task is to eat you up?” He winks, and my stomach makes a tiny flip. “Yep, that would be me.”
Bumping into Dev’s dazzling buddy at this weird party wasn’t something I expected. But him turning out as my destined mate? Now this renders me genuinely speechless.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to my campus?” Wyatt asks with a smile.
He, like all high-flying college football stars, lives in Tucson. I knew this, of course, yet it never occurred to me to let him know Hope and I were driving over. “I figured you wouldn’t come to a frat party to see me.”
Wyatt’s brows arch. “You kidding? Why not?”
Because your smile confuses me.
I bite back my idiotic phrase just in time. Unfortunately, I’ve been attracted to Wyatt ever since I’ve met him. At the same time, he never looked at me in any other way than as Devon’s little sister. I know that having an unrequited crush on my brother’s bestie is too much of a cliché—and I try not to remain stuck in it.
Which is why I didn’t inform him I’d be in Tucson.
I shrug. “I thought you didn’t pledge because you wanted to avoid the destructive jamborees? Or did you loosen up your strict regime?”
Being the popular guy he is, Wyatt got invited by several fraternities without ever doing a rush—formal or informal—but he turned them all down after his coach complained about the distraction the social clubs could cause.
If I’m honest, I admire his devotion. Even if I think he forgets to live outside the football field.
Wyatt shakes his head. “Nope. I still keep my eye on the prize, or in my case, the ball. I can’t be a top player and a frat boy at the same time.”
I shift my weight and give him a teasing smile while poking him on his arm. “How come you’re showing off your big fangs at this party then?”
Joking is my tried way to communicate with Wyatt. It helps me tame the mushiness the sight of him unleashes in me and avoid having him or my brother discover how smitten I am with Wyatt.
Wyatt shrugs, and his messy blond hair shakes with the ease of a young Brad Pitt entertaining journalists on the red carpet. “I had to drop off something to a guy who lives here, and as I entered, I got ambushed and branded as a grandma-eating monster.”
“Well, if the skinny guy at the entrance tackled you against your will, you might be losing your edge, warrior.” I wink.
Wyatt chuckles and leans into my neck a little. “My edge is intact, Ellie. Be careful what you insinuate. Remember what happened to Little Red in the fable.”
His hot breath gives me goosebumps.
Why doesn’t my body realize what’s safe to feel? Or in this instance, not feel?
“The wolf is killed by the huntsman, no?” I grin, ignoring my unstable pulse.
He turns with his entire body to me. “That’s the most popular version of the story, yes. But it doesn’t mean our tale can’t end differently.”
His gaze bounces between my eyes and my mouth, designating the amplified triangle on my face that’s s
upposed to be the universal sign that someone is flirting with you.
Or at least that’s what our non-verbal communication textbook teaches.
Though I’m relatively confident that Wyatt doesn’t care for me as a girl, should I still try to test the waters?
“Whatever the ending…” I hit a tone of voice that has only a hint of huskiness—if needed, I want to back out from my flirting act as smoothly as possible. “I’m not afraid. I’m happy that I’m with a trusted beast instead of a strange one.”
I straighten my back, wishing I had put on a top with a steeper neckline than the green one I’m wearing. Or at least a skirt instead of my white capri jeans.
Wyatt lifts a brow. “And I’m glad I didn’t smash the skinny guy when he fiddled on my chest. It would have been a pity to miss out on being your destined mate.”
His voice matches my mocking style, but there’s a weird undertone to it.
Almost as if…
Oh, golly…what’s happening here?
I’ve never heard Wyatt speak to me like this—not in these words and not in this seductive tone.
Could Wyatt be hitting on me? Or am I in such severe sleep deprivation after the last exam that I’m imagining things?
“Yes, it’s lucky we bumped into each other,” I mumble, entirely dumbfounded by the possibility that a forbidden desire I’ve been carrying for quite some time could materialize tonight.
Wyatt points at the door. “Now, I’d prefer to head out if you…”
My heart drops.
What a moron. Wyatt wasn’t wooing me, just expressing his joy of seeing his brother’s little sister. Great job, Ellie.
What was it with clichés and avoiding them?
A guy with glasses passes by us and taps Wyatt’s shoulder with a cheerful, “Your touchdown in that last game was massive, man. Even my chick thought so, and she ain’t no football fan.”
“Thanks, Lloyd,” Wyatt answers, but his eyes don’t leave my face.
That’s when I remember that Wyatt probably has a strict curfew to keep himself in top physical shape.
When Lloyd disappears, I say, “Of course, you’ve gotta go. You’ve got a game tomorrow, right?”
Wyatt shakes his head. “Nope. Spring break starts. I won’t have games for a week. I only wanted to move outside for the fresh air and have a stroll.”
“Ah, I see,” I mumble, pushing down my disappointment.
After all, does it matter why Wyatt’s in a hurry to leave me here?
Wyatt cocks his head, then reaches out and brushes back a curl from my face to behind my ear. The path his fingers trace on my skin lights up with sizzles.
“Shall we go then?” he asks.
We?
Wyatt must take my silence as hesitation instead of utter bafflement because he adds, “So what do you think?”
Ambling in a dark park with the one guy I can’t stop dreaming about? I’m thinking, heck, yes. “Sure, I’d love to.”
The words rush out of my mouth like a mouse spurting when chased by a cat.
Wyatt’s face illuminates. “Great. It’s too darned hot in here.”
Torrid. Especially with you close by.
With my glance, I search for Hope. I’d love to tell her I’m stepping outside for a moment (or more, I hope), but she’s dancing with her Prince Charming, so I decide it’s better not to disturb her.
Wyatt holds out his hand, and I put my palm in his.
As he pulls me through the crowd, several people turn to us. Similar to Lloyd, the males compliment Wyatt for his last game, and one of them even grabs Wyatt’s free hand to do some sort of lame cool-guy handshake. The females flash seductive pouty lips at Wyatt and give dirty looks to me once they notice Wyatt is holding my hand.
To avoid their nasty stares, I keep my eyes on our interlaced fingers while I count the steps to the entrance.
If it’s a prime number, I might have a chance at a pretty special night.
They add up to twenty-nine.
Bingo!
Once we’re outside and leave the buzzing frat party behind, I make a tentative gesture to wiggle my hand free.
I don’t really want to let go of Wyatt. After the first dazzling heatwave his touch gave me, I find it natural to hold his hand. Almost as if his long musician fingers and broad, strong palm were created to frame my tinier hand.
But the road is empty, and there’s no danger that we’d lose each other now.
Wyatt gives me a slanted glance and squeezes my fingers tighter. “As your magical mate, I must protect you.”
“I thought your duty was to eat me up,” I answer, as if his comment was a joke.
He grins at me. “That could happen, too, if you insist.”
I blink up at the speckled, cloudless sky. Its dark has a velvety quality, almost as if the air has thickened somehow.
“When I was still living in Kingman, I used to climb out to the roof and watch the stars,” Wyatt says. “On tough nights, when I’d yearn for the light of the sun to arrive, their sparkles were my promise that the darkness would end.”
I stop in my tracks and peek up at him. “Why were your nights difficult?”
His face steels as if he just realized he spoke out loud, but then his features soften. “It’s so effortless to tell you things, Ellie. Why do you think it’s like that?”
“I’m not sure,” I mumble while raking a hand through my curls. “Perhaps because you and Devon are best friends?”
Wyatt shakes his head. “I think it’s because of something else.”
“What?” I ask, but he’s not looking at me anymore.
He directs his glance at a bench that’s in a small clearing nestled between two university buildings. “Come, let’s take a pause here.”
He pulls me to it, then releases my fingers and plops down. He taps the place beside him.
My arm presses against his as I sit.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “There’s chewing gum.” I show him the smudge of pink on the wooden surface that I tried to avoid.
He puts his arms around me and pulls me even closer so that our hips collide. “There. We don’t want you to get into that dirty gunk.”
My throat closes with excitement, but I immediately scold myself for my reaction.
Though being alone with Wyatt is a scenario I might have fantasized about like a gazillion times and I’d counted twenty-nine steps, it’s still no good reason to read anything into his gestures.
Or his odd tone and puzzling words.
I need to wait and see how things unfold.
“So…uhm…how is life?” I say, in lack of a better conversation starter.
“Are you nervous about being here with me?”
My eyes dart to him. “Why would you ask me this?”
Wyatt takes my wrist and lifts my hand.
My thumb, that’s just arrived at my pinky, freezes.
“You always do this gesture when you’re upset,” he murmurs.
“You noticed it?” And he remembers it?
“I notice much more than you may think. Especially about you.”
“Why?” My heart drums in my ears.
Wyatt runs two fingers along my jawline. Slowly, really slowly. “I think you know why,” he murmurs.
My lips part. “What are you doing?”
Wyatt’s captures my eyes. “What does it look like?” His lips hint at a smile, but his voice is husky.
“Like you’re about to kiss me,” I mumble.
“Would you mind if I did?”
I swallow. “You mean…whether I would mind if you kissed me?”
“Yes.”
My breath hitches. “Yes.”
He lifts his brows. “Yes?”
“I mean, no. No, I wouldn’t mind.”
Wyatt smiles, but his lips don’t curl up with his usual composed chill. No, there is a slight quiver in their movement, as if he’s thrilled about my answer but also hesitant to believe it.
“Are you sure?
” he asks. “Because I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite some time. And if you don’t stop me now, I’ll go through with it.”
“What does that even mean?” I fear I might ruin this incredible moment with my blathering, but I can’t make sense of his words.
Wyatt wants to kiss me? How is this possible?
“I fancy you,” he says simply.
His confession takes my breath away. Mostly because he states it so self-evidently as if he’s just told me he likes football.
Was I wrong about Wyatt? Perhaps he has other desires besides becoming the next NFL superstar?
The confusion must be written on my face because Wyatt’s expression sobers. “I scared you with my forthcoming statement. Sorry.”
“No, you didn’t. I just…”
“You, what?” He asks while leaning closer, and his hot stream of air caresses my neck. “Ellie, you can talk to me.”
“Is this just—” I breathe in as I plan how to tell him what’s on my mind. “Devon says that you only do flings.”
Wyatt’s jaw sets in a line. “He’s not wrong. I’ve never had a serious relationship.”
My stomach tightens. “Is this a ‘let’s kick off the spring break’ night for you then?”
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No. I like you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You do?”
He bends closer so that our faces are only an inch apart. “Yes.”
“Does Dev know?”
“That’s a pretty weird question to ask right now,” he smiles, “but to answer it, no. I haven’t told your brother yet, because I didn’t know whether I had a chance with you.” His face becomes serious, and he searches my gaze. “Do I?”
As strange as it is, given the years I spent wishing Wyatt would notice me, this question has never crossed my mind. Wyatt has been as unattainable as winning the lottery. I didn’t consider what would happen if he ever showed an interest in me because I believed it could never happen.
Wyatt strokes my hair gently while repeating, “Do I?”
I know Wyatt has already a mistress—the game.
Can I ever compete with that?
Wyatt studies my face with furrowed brows. “Ellie, if you’d rather forget that I said anything, then—”
“No!”
“No?” He smiles.
Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) Page 10