2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Tate
The heat racing through my body is comparable to fire, so hot it would burn the world around me down. I see his hand tighten on her arm, refusing to let go. I can feel her fear from here.
“Everything alright out here?” I know it’s not, but I’m giving the asshole a chance to make a better decision before I make it for him. After nearly twenty minutes, I had to check on her. Something in my gut told me that things were off, and it wasn’t wrong.
“What the fuck do you want, Jackson?” Brett Silas- wide receiver for our football team here at Ballad University and one of the biggest dicks on campus.
We’re close to the same height, but he’s leaner to ensure he’s fast. I’m muscle, my job as a defensman is to protect my Goalie and stop pucks, I’m built like a brick fucking house, and this guy is about to find out about that real fast. “I think she’s done talking to you.
So let go of her arm, before I end your wannabe Pro Football career before it even starts.
” I can hear my teammates jostling around behind me, having followed me out here.
His face tightens at my words,
“This isn’t your business.”
I glance down briefly at his hand still wrapped around her arm.
“Seems like it became my business. When you decided to put your hands on a woman. So I won’t ask again. Let go of her before I break every bone in your fucking body.”
He hesitates.
Then, he finally drops his grip.
Celeste immediately steps back, putting a little space between them.
Brett lets out a sharp laugh.
“You don’t even know what this is about.”
“You’re right,” I say calmly.
Another step forward.
“But I know what it looks like.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“And what’s that?”
“Like you were being an ass.”
Celeste lets out a quiet breath behind him like she’s trying not to laugh or maybe trying not to make things worse.
Brett notices, and his attention snaps back to her.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he mutters. “Running to someone else the second things get inconvenient.”
“I didn’t run to anyone,” she fires back immediately.
“You didn’t have to,” he says, jerking his chin in my direction.
Something ugly flickers across his face.
Then he shakes his head.
“Forget it.”
He looks back at her one last time.
“Figure it out yourself.”
As the guys stand between Brett and us, I reach for Celeste.
She’s shaking, and I don’t know if that’s from the cold or because she’s scared.
Without a second thought, I shrug my jacket off and wrap it around her shoulders.
But, something tells me Brett Silas isn’t the kind of guy who walks away quietly.
“Are you okay?” I lower my voice, not wanting to frighten her any more than she already is.
Her dark hair frames her face in soft escapees from her bun, and her eyes, green and tired, yet so damn beautiful, looked like they were searching for the nearest exit.
I take a step back to give her a little room to breathe, but still close enough to protect her.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I… I should get back inside.” She turns on her heels, and her apron swishes with her body.
I reach for her arm, but by the way she flinches, I know I made the wrong choice. I let her go as fast as I reached for her. “Wait a second, please,” I pleaded with her. “Can I have a pen and paper?”
She looks at me with confusion, but takes a pen and her black booklet out of her apron and passes them over to me. I hear a car door slam and footsteps follow.
“He’s gone,” Preston states while walking past us to go back into the diner.
“Thanks, man,” I say while scribbling out my number. “Call or text. Whenever you need to.” I pass her the pen and booklet back. Her eyes lock with mine, and there is no confusion. She knows why I’m giving her my number, and God, I hope she uses it if she needs to.
“Thanks, but I won’t need it.” She stands tall, lifting her head. All fear in her body has left. Before I can say another word, she’s walking away from me. My eyes scan her body, fuller hips, great ass, and beautiful dark chocolate hair. And god is she so damn beautiful.
My eyes track her as she walks away, the diner lights spilling across the parking lot and catching in the soft waves of her dark hair. Her apron swishes behind her with every step, and for a second, I think that’s it.
She’s just going to disappear back inside.
No conversation.
Just a girl I helped in a parking lot and will only see when I stop here for my late-night coffee excursions.
Something about that doesn’t sit right in my chest.
“Damn,” one of the guys mutters behind me. “Ice cold, Jackson.”
I ignore him, still watching the door.
She reaches it, hand wrapping around the handle. For a moment, she pauses, like she’s debating something.
Then she disappears inside.
The guys start drifting back toward the diner, the tension from the confrontation fading now that Brett’s gone. Preston claps me on the shoulder as he passes.
“Nice hero moment,” he says with a grin. “You coming or what?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
I take one last glance at the door before following them inside.
The warmth of the diner hits immediately, along with the smell of coffee and fried food. The bell jingles above the door as I step in behind the guys.
Conversation hums around the room again, as if nothing happened.
But my eyes automatically start scanning the place.
Looking for her.
She’s at the counter now, back turned, punching something into the register like she’s trying very hard to focus on literally anything else.
For a second, I consider just leaving it.
She said she didn’t need the number.
Message received.
I start toward our booth.
She’s holding something in her hand.
My number.
Our eyes meet across the diner.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then she walks over, stopping a couple of feet in front of me.
Up close again, I notice the little things I hadn’t before.
The faint freckles across her nose.
The tired shadows under her green eyes.
The way she’s holding herself, like someone who’s used to standing on their own two feet.
She holds the paper and my coat out toward me.
“I think you forgot something,” she says with a shy smile across her face, her curls, the itch to run my fingers through, slowly becoming more and more chaotic as the night goes on.
But when she waves the paper at me, my eyes unglue from her face and I look down.
It’s the paper I gave her that has my number on it. Still folded neatly.
“I gave that to you, both of them,” I say, nodding to the paper and coat. It’s one of my windbreakers they give us every season, I have three others just like it, and Ballad U green – our school colors – looks beautiful on her
“I know.” Her lips twitch slightly, like she’s fighting a smile. “But maybe you should save it for one of the girls at the party tonight.”
“Or you could just keep it, in case you ever wanted to meet outside of this place.” I see her eyes narrow, but in a playful way.
This is the most we have ever exchanged words, and gosh, I want to drag it out as long as I can.
“I don’t date, but thanks.” She says it in such a confident way that it turns me on.
“Well, just keep it, please,” the tone in my voice is suggesting more than I mean it to be.
“Fine, but I don’t think I’ll need it. Oh, and Tate?” When she tucks the paper back into her apron, it takes everything in me not to jump up and down like a fucking clown.
“Yeah?”
Her smile this time is small, but genuine.
“If I ever do need that number…”
She taps the pocket of her apron where the paper disappeared.
“I would know where to find you instead.” Her eyes glance over at the counter where I sometimes like to sit when it’s busy in the diner.
Then she turns and walks away again, disappearing behind the counter.
I stand there for a second staring after her.
Preston whistles low from the booth behind me.
“Well,” he calls. “You gonna marry the waitress or come eat?” his voice in his normal monotone style.
I shake my head, attempting to rattle my brain back into place, before returning to the booth.
But I sure as hell wouldn’t mind getting to know her better to learn what’s below all those layers of her.