Page 21

Chapter

Sixteen

If I thought Shar and Crystal were deer in headlights the other night in Shar's apartment, it was nothing compared to the two of us. A bulldozer could have been bearing down on us, and neither of us would have flinched.

My mind did the math.

No cars or trucks had pulled in or out of that parking lot since Shar and I had left the bar. He'd been sitting there the whole time. Three cars down. And Shar and I had not been whispering. Had he heard that last sentence? Had he heard me yell penis sex? I couldn’t decide which was worse.

I wanted to die. I wanted to bury my head in the sand like an emu or ostrich—if that was something they actually did and not just another lie spread by Saturday morning cartoons.

What exactly had I said? Why had I opted to end with that closing statement? Had I referenced him since we were closer to the bar? Strike that final addition, and the rest of it would have been embarrassing but salvageable. But this?

"Sharla. Maddie." Chase coughed at the end of my name, then folded his arms only to think better of it and drop his hands on the hood of his truck. His jaw tensed, and he wouldn't meet my eyes.

Oh, damn it.

"I'm just going to—" Sharla slowly backed away, and I shot her a glare that said, If you dare leave me alone right now, you're dead to me. She mouthed, "I’m sorry?" Then turned and speed walked to the lobby.

That little skank.

I turned back to Chase, my cheeks burning. Hell, he looked good. A long-sleeved heather-grey T-shirt. His hair no longer combed like it had been at the game.

I had no other choice but to go on the offensive. "Were you just sitting in your car? Who does that?"

He rounded the hood, and I took a step back. "I was going to come into the bar, but then I got stuck on a phone call."

"At one in the morning?" What the hell time was it, even? I had no idea.

His jaw ticked again. "Yeah."

My curiosity spiked, but embarrassment overrode any potential questions. "How much of that did you hear?" I didn't want the answer, but I had to know.

He shrugged. "All of it, I guess."

" All of it? You didn't think to alert us to your presence?"

"I did."

I scoffed. "After you listened to all of it."

He took a step closer. "Yeah. I know that was a dick move, but I couldn't—" He ran a hand through his hair. "I couldn't stop."

Couldn’t stop. What kind of excuse was that? My eyes burned. This was why I didn't open up to people. Why I didn't say out loud my deepest, darkest fears. "Well, I hope it was entertaining." I turned on my heel and started after Sharla.

Chase's footsteps sounded on the pavement behind me. “I have a biology problem, too.”

I froze and looked over my shoulder. "What?"

"The biology thing or whatever the hell you were saying in the study room."

Nothing he said computed. "With Rory?"

"No." He let out an exasperated sigh. "The thing you were saying. About me. That you were trying to fix or get over."

My heart picked up speed. The biology thing. Ohhhh. My biology in response to his. That's what he was talking about.

Chase glanced sheepishly back at the bar, then walked forward and stopped in front of me. He shoved his hand in his pocket, searching for something. He pulled out a thin white card. My heart stalled.

"I heard you were looking for a tutor."

The swoop in my lower belly made my vision darken at the edges. Was he—did he just?—

“Do you—?" He bit his lip and looked away, muttering something that sounded a lot like "shit" under his breath. When he turned back, his eyes locked on mine. "I'm not your professor."

"No." I shook my head.

"I'm not your coach."

I shook my head again.

“I’m not your brother.”

“Correct.”

"And you don't answer to me on the committee."

That was true. We were partnered up, but I reported to Lamont.

"Is there anything else that makes you feel like I'm in a position of power over you?"

I blinked. "No?"

“Say it more definitely if you mean it, Maddie.”

That was part of the problem, wasn't it? I didn't view him as Coach Wilson. I viewed him as Chase. Hot Chase. Chase, who had been in my shower naked. Chase, who leaned against lockers. Chase, whose shirt rose a little above the waistband of his jeans when he reached for a water glass.

I shook my head. “No.” It was the honest truth.

He handed me the key card. I took it with trembling fingers. "Since I apparently suck at poetry responses, maybe this is something I'd be better at . . . helping with." He wet his lips. "Room 413."

He hesitated another moment, then stalked past me.

I stood there. Speechless. Chase Wilson just handed me his room key. Chase Wilson— I whirled. "Chase won't you—how are you going to get in?"

He turned back, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "I have two keys, Maddie."

Right. Two keys. I only had one because Sharla had the other, which meant he had his own room. Of course, he had his own room.

I started to hyperventilate. "Like, right now?"

His nostrils flared. "Your study schedule is up to you, I guess." He took a step backward, momentarily bleached in the parking lot spotlight, then turned and crossed through the circular drive for check-in, disappearing behind the sliding doors.

I waited until my body remembered how to breathe then hurried inside. I scanned the empty lobby, forgetting which direction the elevators were. When my brain rebooted, I strode past the check-in desk and turned left, then stood in front of the elevator bank a moment before pressing the button.

I couldn't do this. Just show up at his room and—what? My heart punched a staccato rhythm against my ribs.

No. He wasn't my professor or my coach. And no, I didn't think he held some leverage over me. But there were so many reasons why this was a terrible, if not an irresponsible, idea.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside. I hit the “three” for my floor.

It was past one thirty in the morning. Chase just overheard me talking about how I wanted him, and I had entertained the idea of an intimacy tutor with Sharla.

Clearly, we were not thinking straight. I needed to go back to my room, get a good night's sleep, and wake up to study with Rory and Axel at eleven.

The elevator rose. I flicked Chase's card between my fingers.

If the team or Coach Blakely saw me entering his room, if anyone on the committee got wind of something going on between us—or my mom? No. The whole thing would be disastrous. Plus, he was apparently leaving at the end of the semester and?—

The elevator slowed. It dinged as the doors opened. I willed my feet to move, but they stayed planted, rooted to the spot.

That last thought rolled through my head like a marble. He was leaving at the end of the semester.

My pulse kicked, and my mouth went dry. Right now, we weren't on campus, and we weren't even in Alberta. I wasn’t on University time.

None of the university staff was here now, and Chase wouldn't have given me his key if he thought there was any chance that someone would see me entering.

Maybe he was on a different floor from everybody else?

The door started to close, and heat flashed in my middle.

I reached out and smacked my hand against the number four.