The butthurt grows when he never looks my way at any point during the meeting. Not when the president and the dean take turns speaking, not when the head coaches each take a minute to assure everyone that all rules will be followed, and not when he himself is introduced to say a few words. It’s as if my portion of the bleachers don’t even exist, and that stings. Whatever connection I believed we had was nothing more than temporary idiocy. As the university president speaks, I force my gaze away from Colin, determined to ignore his very presence on earth.
“In closing, I want to reiterate that this is very, very serious. If any of the rules about student/staff behavior are violated, the staff member will be dismissed immediately and the student will face expulsion. There is no middle ground on this. Be mindful of these rules when the normal athletic schedule resumes tomorrow, and everything will be fine. Break them and you'll feel the consequences immediately.”
I've never heard Rothstein speak so firmly about anything. Normally he's an uptight but fairly affable type of man. Not today. Clearly, this whole thing with Coach Adams was a game changer. Pun intended. But right now I care about none of that because I’m too busy being salty about Colin’s complete and utter obliviousness to my presence on this earth, even though I am one hundred percent certain he knows I go here since I told him myself.
“…feeling some Italian dressing as the marinade for your chicken tonight. You cool with that?”
Shit. I’ve been so focused on my anger for the last few minutes that I forgot where I am. Shaking it off, I look up and find Miles staring down at me expectantly.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I agree as I hastily stand and grab my peach colored wristlet from the bleacher. “Italian dressing it is. I’m also going to make some broccoli and a baked potato for us to split so if you’d take charge of throwing together a salad, that’d be tops. Maybe after dinner, we can watch an episode of Modern Family.”
Miles throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side before dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “No can do tonight, baby girl. After dinner I’m going to Stella’s to study,” he jokes, only loud enough for me to hear.
Leaning in closer to him, I look up and give him puppy dog eyes as I push my lip out and pretend to pout. “Should I worry? I’ve heard if you use it too much it falls off,” I joke.
Miles tosses his head back and laughs, which draws the attention of pretty much every girl within fifty feet. Since we were thirteen years old, Miles has always been one of the most popular and most sought-after guys I've ever known. He gets more ass than Lazy Boy, but somehow he doesn't have a man-whore reputation. I suspect this is because he's kind, funny, and doesn't treat girls like dog shit to make them do his bidding.
I'm not blind—he's a smoking hot twenty-one-year-old version of Alexander Skarsgård. Blond haired, blue eyed, six feet tall, muscles for days, clear skin, perfect teeth, a sexy jawline and a sense of humor. On top of all that he's rich as hell, drives a Mercedes and has impeccable manners. People often suspiciously ask us how he and I have never hooked up. Our answers are the same—we're like siblings. I understand that he's attractive, but I have absolutely no interest in him, and I know he feels the same way about me.
“You’re a nut,” he jokes. “You wanna stop and say hi to Colin—”
“No!” I squeak. “I mean, not now. I’m sure I’ll see him later. I’m so hungry right now I could eat your arm. No time to chat. He looks busy anyway.”
Miles chuckles and nods as he guides us toward the exit. I breathe an inward sigh of relief that he bought my excuse. As far as Miles is concerned, Colin isn't on my radar—nor has he ever been. I mean to keep him oblivious to the reality. If he knew how I really felt—and what's gone on—he'd be grilling me on the daily.
As we make our way to the double doors that lead to the hall, I get the strongest sensation of being watched. I refrain from turning back for as long as I can, but just as we get to the doors curiosity gets the better of me, and I look over my shoulder.
My mouth goes dry as I stumble, eyes wide as I realize that the person looking at me is Colin. Standing with his arms crossed over his chest he’s watching me with narrowed eyes. Even from this far away I can see that his jaw is clenched. I barely have time to blink before Miles is tugging me through the doors, but I keep looking back over my shoulder at Colin until the large silver door closes behind me, cutting off my view.