Page 18 of The Hardest Fall

“Your shirt is wet,” I blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

He looked at himself, brushed a hand down his front. “That’s okay.” Then he focused on me.

I took a step back. “Are you planning on telling me what you’re doing here?” I enquired as I started to back away and put some much-needed distance between us.

His eyes found mine, and I accidentally backed into a wall.

“Are you about to run away again?” Was that a grin he was trying to fight off? I couldn’t find one single thing that was amusing about the situation. He held my gaze as if he himself was trying to figure out the answer to my question. I dropped my eyes to his throat and kept backing away…right into the tripod I had set up earlier.

Great, Zoe. You couldn’t have acted more like an idiot if you tried.

I was either gonna go for the tripod and save it, or I was gonna hold on to my towel as if nothing could break us apart. I went with the latter and just let the tripod crash to the floor, wincing when the sound echoed in the room. Thank God my camera was no longer attached to it.

When my feet got tangled and I lost my balance for a second, he made a move toward me.

“No,” I yelled, admittedly a little louder than necessary. “No—ah, you don’t have to move. Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead of giving me an answer. His gaze dropped to my tripod on the floor then met my questioning gaze again.

Come again? His question stopped me in my backward shuffling.

“Could you, maybe, oh, I don’t know—come up with an answer instead of more questions? I live here. You’re the one who’s in the wrong place, not me, buddy.”

Another easy smile. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so. You don’t think what, exactly?”

“I don’t think I’m in the wrong apartment.”

“I actually, really think you are.”

He crossed his arms and just stood there…fully clothed, unlike me. “I don’t think so.” He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a key, shaking it in the air.

He had a key.

Goddammit, Zoe, use your brain! How else could he have gotten in?

“Look, uh…” I glanced back over my shoulder—I was only ten, twelve steps away from the corner that would take me to my room. If I could just throw on some clothes and stop with the uncontrollable shivering, I was pretty sure my mind would start working again. “Just give me a minute to get dressed and come back out here so we can…”

He nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead of saying Yeah, buddy, you are, I gave him an exasperated look, barely stopped myself from huffing, and disappeared down the hallway.

Not two minutes had passed before I was back in the living room, fully clothed this time. It had taken me exactly thirty seconds to get dressed, and the other minute and a half had been spent trying to make myself look…better. My heart did this weird jump at the sight of him. Adrenaline…I was sure it was the adrenaline still coursing through my body that made my stomach clench and my hands go ice cold. He was standing in the exact same spot where I’d left him; the only difference was that instead of looking right into my eyes, he was looking down at his shoes and talking on his phone.

“Yes, I understand, Coach. Of course. Okay, I will. Yes. Again, thank you.”

Coach…of course. What was I even thinking?

I’d have loved to call him and talk to him myself, but if he was with his wife, I knew he wouldn’t pick up my call, so why bother?

I leaned down and picked up my wounded tripod. After making sure it wasn’t broken, I set it up closer to the wall where I couldn’t trip on it again then walked toward the couch, the one that would take me farther away from Dylan Reed. Before my clothed ass hit the cushions, he was off his phone, and we were alone again.

“So…from the sound of things, I guess neither one of us is in the wrong place, then,” I said, speaking to his back. Even though I was surprised, I could already guess what was going on.

He turned to face me, and his eyes did a sweep up and down. “It would seem so.”

I felt like I was about to shrink under his stare, so I grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it to my stomach. The way he looked at me… I was tempted to look down and see what he found so interesting, but I already knew I was wearing my black leggings and an old t-shirt that had the words Pizzama Party all over it in small print—nothing interesting whatsoever.