Page 2 of Guarded Love

I gesture subtly with my head toward a guy in the corner wearing a cowboy hat and swim trunks. "That one's been doing handstands against the wall for the last twenty minutes. No one knows why."

Blaise laughs, and my stomach raises back up from the floor and does a flip in my body. "Amateur. Check out the girl by thespeakers who's collecting every red solo cup she can find. She's got a stack of at least fifteen or twenty."

I follow his gaze to spot a girl with jet-black hair with bright blue streaks swiping abandoned cups like she’s on a mission. "Wow. That's some serious dedication. I wonder what her end game is."

"Frat house art installation? Recycling vigilante? The possibilities are endless."

I snort. "I'm betting on a social experiment for her psych class."

"Could be.”

“Or maybe she's planning to build a solo cup throne," I toss out lightly.

"A throne fit for the queen of questionable party decisions." Blaise nods. "We should probably keep an eye on her. Witness the coronation."

"Definitely." I take another small sip of my drink, the jungle juice burning slightly on the way down. It's so strange standing here going bar for bar with him like this. Easy. Comfortable even. Which is the opposite of how I usually feel around him because I’m usually hyperaware of the 'Knox's Sister' label that hangs between us.

"So," he says, breaking the brief silence, his voice a little lower now, "aside from taking dares and analyzing people, what else brings Willow Sanchez out on a Saturday night?"

I shrug. "Just needed a break. School's been kicking my ass, and trying to balance writing articles on top of that? It’s been hell."

"Tell me about it." He sighs, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Midterms are coming up, practice is brutal, and sometimes I think Coach lives purely to invent new ways to torture us."

"At least you get to hit people legally," I point out, swirling the ice in my cup. "Journalism can involve character assassination at times, but it is less physically satisfying."

He chuckles and I try to pretend I’m not affected by it. "True. Though sometimes, after a particularly bad check, I wish I could just write a scathing article about….” he paused for a moment, “the other team's questionable hygiene."

I side-eye him before returning my gaze to the dancing unfolding in front of us. “You’re ridiculous.”

"Maybe," he agrees, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "But you laughed."

"Barely," I retort, though the corner of my mouth betrays me when I can’t fight my smirk. "It was more of a pity chuckle."

"I'll take it." He leans against the wall beside me, mirroring my posture.

I look around for a second before turning to look at the man next to me. “I thought you were supposed to be meeting up with Wilder?”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

"Maybe," I repeat his earlier comment. "Or maybe I'm just wondering how long you plan on ditching the guy who supposedly rescued you from a night of playing video games by yourself."

"That's assuming video games need rescuing from," Blaise counters, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement pulls his hoodie tighter across his shoulders, and I force my eyes not to linger although every fiber of my being wants me to.

"Let me guess—you were in the middle of some epic raid? About to level up your wizard or whatever to fight the warden of Hollow Eclipse?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "First of all, it's a warlock, not a wizard. Completely different class specifications. And second—"He stops abruptly, studying my face. "Wait. How did you know I was playing Realm of the Unknown?"

I bite my lip, cursing myself for revealing too much. "Lucky guess?"

"No way." He's fully turned toward me now and I swear his eyes are sparkling. "You play?"

"I might have reached level sixty-three with the witch last weekend," I admit. It feels weird admitting this out loud, but here we are. "But if you tell anyone, I'll deny it and then kill you."

"Your secret's safe with me. Level sixty-three? That's impressive. I can't believe Knox never mentioned you play."

"Because Knox doesn't know," I say, lowering my voice. "It's a stress reliever, not something I broadcast."

Blaise’s grin widens slowly. "Okay, okay. Your secret gaming life is safe. But seriously, a level sixty-three witch? I’m impressed."