She’d run a personal record of 41.55 seconds. Enough to slide her into the finals and boot Carly and me to the curb.
I’d exited the field, given my mom and stepdad a hug, talked to Coach about what went wrong, and then escaped to the girls room to avoid everyone. I’d sat in the last stall sullenly, listening to the flushes of toilets and the chatter of happy people.
I was so fucking disappointed. And angry.
I’d found a quiet corner against the back of the stadium. I just needed like ten minutes to myself to compose my face before I confronted my family and Coach again.
Until he had found me. Mr. Mysterious Good Looking.
“You’re only a junior,” he said. “You’ve got next year to make it up.”
I jerked my chin up, narrowing my eyes at him. “Stalk much?”
“When I see a pretty girl? Nah, I just use the roster.” He smiled as he pulled up a crumbled roster from his pocket. He offered it to me, but I declined. “Suit yourself.”
I sighed. “Yeah, but who knows what will happen next year. I probably won’t have enough money to go here again.”
Bitterness soured my words. My body pulsed with irritation, disappointment and sadness. It crushed my soul to not be good enough. I clenched my jaw and let out an irritated growl.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered to myself.
“Mmm,” he said, nodding and pursing his bottom lip. For a moment, my eyes fixated on that lip. I wanted to bite it. Every nerve in me was short-circuited either from desire or anger, and I didn’t know if I wanted to punch the wall or kiss him. “That makes sense. Kinda unfair though.”
“Life’s unfair,” I ground out, shrugging my bag farther up my shoulder. “That’s how it is.”
“I’m Emmett, by the way” the guy said, extending his hand. I eyed the heavy veins that snaked down his arm to the back of his hand. I took it, delighting in the shivers creeping up my arm as his warm fingers enclosed around mine. “And you are?”
“You already know,” I snapped, then realized I was being a dick. I shouldn’t take my disappointment out on him. I smiled up at him. “But Ophelia. Ophelia Lopez.”
“A pleasure,” he said, bringing up my hand and brushing his lips against the backs of my knuckles. My stomach dropped. Holy fuck.
His gesture was old-fashioned. But holy fuck, it was sexy.
And it made the swirling knot of disappointment and anger in my chest dissipate with the press o
f his lips.
Our hands dropped but remained entwined by the fingers. Flickers of warmth skated across my chest, and I stared at Emmett. Why was I responding so strongly to him? This was insane. His eyes, I noticed, were dark, forbidding, like the Midwestern storms I was all too familiar with in the middle of buttfuck Oklahoma.
“So what are you doing here?” I asked, looking at him under my lashes. “You aren’t a runner.”
He stepped closer, and a delicious scent of expensive cologne filled my nostrils. Who was he? He gave off a different vibe than I was expecting. Something more...suspicious.
“I’m supporting my little brother,” he said. His fingers left my hand and trailed up the inside of my wrist. I sucked in a sharp breath. With my response, he stepped closer, and an electrical current built between us. “But that’s not important.”
Suddenly, his elbows were positioned by my head, his face leaning close to mine. His masculine scent flooded my nostrils – heavenly. I pressed back against the stadium wall, shocked at how my body both wanted to be next to his and far away. His eyes raked my face, and I couldn’t decipher the expressions in them. Curiosity, desire...and something else churned in the icy depths.
I jerked when warm fingers touched my cheek. His eyes heated. But my body was frozen, wanting more of his touch, craving it. His fingers trailed along the cut of my jaw, fiery tingles. I’d thought about this last night, dreamt of kissing the hot guy who kept popping up, but this was real. His body before me was real and warm and – my hand unstuck itself from the wall and trailed itself across his pectorals – hard.
“You’re different and odd,” I said, licking my dry lips. There was something just off about him. I couldn’t pinpoint any outward sign or anything that told me this. But I felt it. “But I like it.”
He made a small sound in the back of his throat. He grabbed my wandering hand and placed a soft kiss on the inside of my palm. The tender touch zapped me out of my stupor.
“Let me kiss you,” he said, locking eyes with mine. He was demanding rather than asking. “Let me.”
My mouth dropped in astonishment, drawing his heated gaze. He stared at my lips like an addict.
I should have said no.