Page 21

Hartley

The discussion with Coach went smoother than I anticipated.

Once we got past the initial shock that I was actually participating in a class project that wasn’t mine, he agreed fervently to allow us use of the locker room.

Did I disclose that this project involved a firecracker of a woman who could bring me to my knees with her laugh?

No. Those are details that I’ll iron out as they come.

“Anyone here?” Her sultry voice echoes through the empty locker room.

Deciding to play around with her, I holler back, “Are we playing Marco Polo now, Goldie?” I peek around as she turns the corner into the main locker room area.

I’ll never get tired of the sight of her.

Her slick straight hair drapes over one shoulder as she tosses the other half over the other.

She’s in one of those dresses she likes, this one with tiny embroidered roses over the black fabric.

She’s always a vision, and I’ll need to practice some serious self-control if our time together is about to increase substantially.

“Hartley! What the. . .” She drops everything she’s holding, and it slams to the concrete floor sending echoes across the room. Her hands fly to her mouth then to her eyes as she sticks one hand out and backs away frantically. “Put some clothes on! Geez!”

A belly laugh erupts from deep in my core. “Don’t be silly, Goldie. I’m fully clothed.” Fully , being the word in question, but I’m wearing boxers. That should count for something, right? “Isn’t this what a muse is supposed to wear?”

She peeks one eye in between the slits of her fingers as she continues to wave her hand toward me. “This isn’t that kind of art! You’re supposed to be natural.” Her laugh rattles out, and the sound does something funny to my chest.

Reaching to the bench next to me, I grab the pair of gray joggers I wore here and slip them on. “The coast is clear. My pants are on.”

She peeks through those slits again to confirm that my pants are, in fact, on before she drops them to her hips. “What is wrong with you?!” she scolds. This side of her riles me up even more. Let’s go, babe.

“Come on.” I grab my hat off the bench and flip it backward before making my way across the empty room to her. “Is this your first time seeing a man in his boxers, Goldie?” I throw my hands on my hips and give her a playful grin.

“Excuse me?! For your information, no, it is not, but you caught me off guard.”

I throw my hands up in mock innocence as she shakes her head from side to side in disapproval. She should know to expect the unexpected.

“Can we forget this happened and start the sketching?” She chuckles.

“After you, my lady.”

Liza spends the next few minutes explaining my role in this project.

She begs me to act like ‘she’s not even here’.

She’s everywhere to me, but that feels a little too intimate for a friend to say, so I bite my tongue.

According to her, the perfect shot would be of me packing and unpacking my things into a practice duffle bag.

She also asks me to go about my pre-practice routine as I normally would so she can capture movement.

After about thirty minutes, she pops off the bench and announces that she has what she needs.

“Can I see?” Walking towards her, I reach for her sketch pad, but she clutches it to her chest while her mouth forms a little ‘o.’

“No way!” She shoots me a disgusted look. “You never show anyone the initial sketch. First sketches are horrible.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“No.” Pursing her lips, I realize this is a battle I won’t win.

Inching closer and closer until her back hits the wall, I brace my arms out along both sides of her.

Her breaths are staggered and her sass from a minute ago is long gone.

Leaning down slowly, I graze her ear with my lip before whispering, “I’ll respect it, but if you show anyone, it better be me.

” Taking a long swallow to gather myself, I back away to watch the way her throat moves up and down.

My eyes zero in on the small parting of her lips.

“Who else would I show it to?” Her voice is strained.

Licking my lips, I allow my cockiest smirk to surface. “I don’t know, Liza, but it better not be your boyfriend.” I push off the wall and back away before I lose control and claim her as mine.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she spits back.

“That’s not what it looked like last weekend.” Jealousy sears through my veins as the picture of her making out with Locke resurfaces to the forefront of my mind. That should have been me.

Taking small steps forward, the minx closes the space I put between us, folds her arms over her chest and purses her lips before tilting her head to the side.

“Next time. . .” She inches even closer to where her hot breath lands on my mouth.

“Do something about it.” Shimmying past me, she’s out of sight before I can register the challenging words she threw down.

Do something about it? I’ve wanted to do something about it since the moment we met, but she’s the most complicated puzzle I’ve ever challenged myself to solve.

She’ll have to give me more than a little show to convince me she wants me as more than just a friend, study partner, and muse.

The thought alone sends red hot fire through my body.

The next few days are consumed with practice and studying for this pill of an art history quiz.

I will never, I repeat, never use any of this information after this class is over, but it’s a GPA booster if I can pull it off.

Liza created a deck of magic flashcards color coded with important information to study.

The color matching does something to my overactive brain allowing the content to stick easier than I’ve experienced in the past. I’ve said silent prayers for days that I pass this quiz.

A buzz sounds off in my pocket, so I unzip the secret pocket in my athletic shorts.

Vi: Wanna meet for lunch?

Me: Don’t have to ask me twice. When?

Vi: Now if you’re free.

Me: OMW

Perfect. I need a distraction from the imminent doom of the art history quiz, and my best friend is the best at that.

Making my way from the library, I take a shortcut through campus to the cafeteria.

I catch a glimpse of Violet seated by the glass window, distracted by her phone.

My chest warms at the sight of her, and my muscles unwind and relax.

Seeing her happy makes all of the hard work of getting us both to Springs U worth it.

Walking through the entrance, I approach the table with caution.

Violet is easily spooked and I don’t want to disrupt her zen.

Sliding into the seat across from her, I throw my bookbag down and stick my phone in the front pocket.

“Hey, Vi.”

“Hart!” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

“I miss you.” She pouts, but quickly cracks a smile.

“Since when do we go days without seeing each other?!” she complains, and I can’t disagree.

We haven’t seen much of each other lately, and I hate that.

I’ve been consumed with football, tutoring, and Liza.

“It’s tragic, but I’m in the business of changing that.”

She giggles before reaching over the table to push my shoulder. “How’s football going?”

A lump in my throat forms at the thought of losing the game I’ve dedicated most of my life to, and that brings that stupid art history quiz back to the forefront of my mind.

“Same old, same old.” I shrug my intense worry about the situation off, but Violet seems to see through my facade with slits in her eyes.

“Really? We’re doing this now?” She glares my way, trying her best to show intimidation. “You’re lying.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she amps the glare to a full blown scowl.

“That readable?” I shrug.

“We’ve known each other for too long to put up a front. What’s going on?” she asks with concern in her tone.

“It’s nothing, Vi. I’ve got it handled. No need to worry.”

“I’ll always worry.” She leans over the table, commanding my attention with her shaky voice.

“I know you will, but I’m the one watching out for you, remember?”

“Not true. We watch out for each other.”

“I’d tell you if there was a problem, but I swear I’ve got it handled.” I wink in a picture of nonchalance.

She hits me with a suspicious look, but drops the conversation for the time being. Removing myself from any more questions, I slide out of my seat and walk to the campus quick service counter buying a large pineapple and pepperoni pizza for us to share before returning to the table.

“Woohoo!” She does a little happy dance looking at heat steaming off of the sweet and salty pizza.

“Soooo,” I drawl out. “How’s Shane treating you?” I tighten my fists in hopes of remaining calm. If I lose my cool every time we talk about her relationship, she won’t disclose the details, and I need those to determine if Ryan is a dead man or not.

“Everything is—” Her cheeks flush pink as she avoids eye contact. The tell-tale sign of Violet Evan’s crush. Here we go. “Great.” She hits me with a smile so bright that it meets her eyes, giving me confirmation that she’s genuinely happy.

“He’s treating you right? Taking you out? Being respectful?”

“Of course. The most respectful.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and her mind wanders away from our conversation.

“He better be.” Displaying distaste about their little “relationship” will only hurt Violet and I’s friendship, and she’s my lifeline. I don’t know what I’d do without her. “You know I’m always here, right, Vi?”

“I do, and I love you, Hart.”

“I love you, too. Enough mushy talk for the day. Tell me about the new 90 Day Fiance season. I need to catch up.”

“Oh my gosh.” She sits up straight in her seat and rests her elbows on the table. “You won’t believe who they casted again this season!” she squeals as she fills me in on our guilty pleasure show, not leaving out any details.

After our reality TV update, my bookbag vibrates against my thigh, indicating a notification.

Liza: Good luck on the quiz tomorrow. You’ve got this, Hotshot.

I let out a chuckle and stare at my phone like a complete idiot.

I haven’t seen Liza since our first session for her art portfolio project, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that day ever since.

She has a way of reeling me in, releasing me back, but keeping bait on the hook to lure me in every single time.

“Earth to Hartley.” Violet’s waving hand in front of my face snaps me out of my Liza induced haze. I place my phone face down and try to play it cool.

“Yeah?”

“You were staring at your phone like someone sent you a love letter. Spill!”

“Nothing to spill.” I wink at her and that scowl returns in full force.

“Sure. Ok.” Violet whips her head back and forth in disappointment. The last thing I need is her head filled with hopes of Liza and I becoming something.

“I know you. All these secrets will bubble up inside until you explode and finally tell me. I’ll wait it out.” She gets up, pointing her fingers to her eyes and back at me without a second look.