I needed to get out of here and put some distance between us, fearing my sarcasm and self-deprecation were running out. “It’s my bedtime.” I rose to a stand, immediately missing the weight of his body pressed up to mine. “It was nice chatting with you without any explosions.”
“Explosions, sparks,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Same difference.”
He looked over me, in a way that was part possessive, part longing, and I waited for the internal dialogue to follow. The voice that would scream at me for misinterpreting the look on his face, the one that reminded me I wasn’t worth anyone’s troubles, not with what I’d done.
But before I could be astounded that no internal critic was sounding off, a girl—that had a similar body to Miss Ribbons, but was more edge than innocent—weaved up to William and slipped her h*ps into the seat I’d just left. So there’d been not one, not two, but three starry-eyed girls he’d had lined up for the evening’s agenda . . . and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.
I made sure I let him see the look in my eyes before marching away from him, hoping the distance would erase my feelings for him, but knowing it wouldn’t.
I barraged through a sea of black and orange, so consumed by my thoughts I charged into someone. Someone so large and hard my impact didn’t sway him, and someone so damp with sweat I knew the first thing I’d do is take a shower when I got back to my dorm. “Sorry,” I said, hurrying past.
“So that’s all I get? A sorry?” I had to turn around to put the face with the voice. “After dedicating five hard-earned points to you?”
I really didn’t need this new male development to sort through right now. I was living my own personal twilight zone with the male attention I’d drawn the past week.
“Hey, Paul. Good game,” I said formally, trying not to make my backing away from him insulting. I needed fresh air, a good night’s sleep, and possibly a lobotomy to sort through why two men worthy of every poem, song and praise ever conjured up for the male species had taken an interest in me.
Just as I was about to spin around, I caught a glimpse of William and his newest seat-mate. He was watching me, brows furrowed and lips tight, so I changed my plan. Time for a little payback.
Love was a battlefield . . . or so I’d heard.
I painted my lips into a smile, hoping it was that precise mixture of tease and allure that guys seemed to go crazy for.
“You were really amazing out there,” I praised, feeling vile for stooping to this new low to get back at the man who was driving me mad. I closed the distance between Paul and me and hung my hand on the side of his arm, hoping I’d feel something so I could write off what I’d felt when I’d touched William.
There was nothing . . .nothing but hot, sticky skin. William’s eyes narrowed, so I left my hand where it was, despite every instinct to swipe it away and wipe it off against my jeans.
Taking my hand on him as a hall pass to put his on me, he rested his hand above my hip. “You got plans for tonight?”
“No.” I shifted to the side, hoping his hand would fall off. No luck.
“Really?” he asked, sounding surprised. “There’s this party off campus I’m supposed to go to, but I don’t really feel like it and maybe if I had an excuse . . .” he took another step towards me, so literally every ounce of personal space was gone. “Like I had a date or something, I’d be let off the hook.”
Was he asking me out? I wasn’t sure if he was, or if he was just hinting to see if I had some hot, single girlfriend I’d refer him to. He’d have to be more direct if he wanted an answer, I’d never been adept at reading between the lines. Either way, it was a no.
However, as I was about to ask Paul for further clarification, William stood up and made no qualms about heading straight for us.
“What have you got in mind?” I asked Paul, letting him drop his mouth to my ear.
“Well I was thinking—”
William pried me from Paul, mid-sentence.
He face looked more upset than angry. “Just so you know,” he said through closed teeth. “Fancy fireworks ignited for the sole purpose of making someone jealous don’t count as sparks.”
I sucked in a breath, feeling like I was caught-up in a black-and-white movie where the leading lady is being pursued by two handsome, roguish-types. However, in my movie, I wouldn’t have the man the leading lady wanted striding away from her like mine was now.
Paul came up behind me. “Who’s that guy?”
“Just ignore him,” I said, not able to turn my eyes away from his retreating figure.
A good twenty paces away, he spun around. “You wish you could,” he shouted over the hullabaloo of the crowd, his arms shrugging as if saying, you had your chance, see ya.
He melted into the mass of bodies leaving the auditorium, but I kept my eyes on the exact spot I’d lost sight of him, wishing I could make him reappear so I could rewind to the exact moment I left his side on the bench.
“What a chump. Just forget about him,” Paul said, squeezing my shoulder muscles. “I’m going to go get showered up.” He headed for the men’s locker room, smiling back at me. “Will you wait for me?”
I barely managed a nod.
The last drove of fans had left a few minutes ago while I stayed behind, sitting in the seat I’d occupied earlier. I wasn’t waiting, but contemplating—trying to sort out my next move. I’d told Paul I’d wait for him for a date but not a fiber of me was in it, and the troubling part—aside from not being interested in Paul Lowe, a demigod in the eyes of OSU’s female populace—was that I knew he was what I should like. I should like the college guy who was a hero in the local community and defined all-American boy. But I’d learned long ago that what I should like, what I should do, just never seemed to work out for me. Like the world never had an easy, bumpless road planned for me. Up-to-date, it had been pocketed with sink holes and tombstones.