Page 80 of The Hardest Fall

“I don’t mind,” I cut her off. “I mean, as long as it’s not for hours on end, it’s okay. I’ll grab my laptop before I leave so I can work while I’m waiting.”

She squeezed my arm a little tighter. “Oh, you’re the best. Thank you. Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait.”

We walked into a huge room where hotel employees ran around arranging tables and chairs for the players. There were still twenty minutes until the guys would be filtering in, and Cash wanted us to be ready to take shots of them as they piled food onto their plates. If they were happy with the photos we took during the weekend, apparently the team was going to consider using them in their brochures for the next year.

Under Cash’s careful watch, it took us fifteen minutes to take the photos then it was our turn to choose from whatever was left on the open buffet table. I grabbed some mashed potatoes, broccoli, and chicken.

When I hesitated while following Miriam, she touched my arm. “You coming?”

My eyes were glued to Dylan, who was sitting alone at one of the tables. Mark had already eaten and left, and I hadn’t seen Chris around after I’d taken a quick shot of him constructing a steak mountain on his plate. If there was ever a choice between Dylan and anyone else, I’d always go with my roommate.

“No, you go on. I’ll see you later.”

One hand holding the strap of my camera, the other balancing my plate, I pulled out a chair with my foot and sat across from Dylan.

“Hi,” I said softly, offering him a smile as I settled down.

He stopped eating and studied me with angry eyes.

When he didn’t say anything back, I started to lose my smile. After giving me a quick nod, he focused on his food again. Dylan had been one of the last ones to come in, so while I’d been taking shots of the players and the coaches who were eating, Dylan was nowhere to be found.

Picking up my fork, I pushed the broccoli stems around. “Are you okay?” I asked in a low voice as the silence turned uncomfortable, which had never happened between us before.

He dropped his fork with a clatter and reached for his water bottle.

Had I done something? I forced myself to swallow down a piece of broccoli and waited for him to say something.

Seconds passed, but nothing happened. As soon as he cleaned his plate, he started looking over his shoulders. It was obvious he didn’t want me sitting with him, and I had no idea why. Feeling a little bit hurt and, truth be told, confused, I cleared my throat and gathered up my plate so I could leave. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was bothering—”

I was halfway up when he stopped looking around the room and met my eyes. “Was that Coach I saw going into your room earlier?”

I dropped back down in my seat and my plate clattered on the table, drawing the curious eyes of his teammates.

“What?”

“You heard me. I was coming to your room to see if you wanted to hang out, but Coach made it there before me so I didn’t bother.”

I swallowed hard. How to get out of this one? “And?” It was a lame attempt to play it cool, but I had nothing else.

“And?” His nostrils flaring, he pushed at his plate and leaned over the table. “I didn’t know you were close enough to invite him into your room.” Something he saw in my face made him pause, but unfortunately, it didn’t stop him. “I didn’t see either of you around for an hour.”

My mouth opened and closed as my hands formed into fists under the table. I slid forward in my seat, mimicking his stance.

“An hour? What are you saying, Dylan?”

His eyebrows inched up to his hairline. “I think you know what I’m saying.”

I sat back. I did know what he was saying, and why was I so surprised anyway? I’d already expected him to think exactly what he was thinking, but how had I not anticipated the hurt it would cause to actually hear the confirmation?

“He was only in my room for five minutes, Dylan, six tops. My dad is driving in from Phoenix to see me, and Mark wanted to know if he was going to make it to the game tomorrow.”

My heart sank, and I hated myself a little more for the lie Mark had essentially forced me to tell.

“Your dad is coming,” he echoed.

“Yes.” I pushed my plate away, grabbed my camera, and stood up. “He should be here any second, so I better go…” I was waiting for him to say something, but it was pointless; he just studied me with his ocean blue eyes as if trying to decipher everything I couldn’t say out loud. “Yeah, I’ll just leave.” And with that clever closing remark, I pulled my eyes away from Dylan’s expectant gaze and walked away.