Chapter 7 #2
By the time I’m down to the last bite, my napkin’s a mess and my stomach’s full.
I toss the wrapper onto the table and lean back.
I stretch a leg across the table, my foot resting against Nathan’s.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t even glance at me.
Just stays where he is, slouched into the corner, his arms folded and his head tipped slightly toward the TV.
He looks relaxed—at least more than he ever is when we’re at practice or around the team. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t… noticing things.
The soft flicker of the TV casts pale blue light over his jawline, highlighting the soft stubble there. There’s something weirdly hypnotic about the rise and fall of his chest, the shape of his mouth when he chews, and—Okay. This is starting to feel like a problem.
I lean back, eyeing him. “You know, watching you at a party is painful,” I say, just so I can put an end to the thoughts running around my head.
He turns his head, his brow furrowed as he meets my eyes. “Painful,” he repeats slowly, like he’s not sure if I’m teasing him or insulting him.
“Yeah,” I say, slouching deeper into the couch. “You didn’t have to look so uncomfortable out there.”
He glances over. “I wasn’t uncomfortable.”
“Right,” I say dryly. “You just stood there in the corner with a cup you didn’t drink from and a death glare that could’ve cleared the room.”
“I wasn’t glaring.”
“Could’ve fooled me. You had the face of a guy counting down the seconds until escape.”
He keeps his eyes on me. “Maybe I was.”
That pulls a laugh out of me. “And yet here you are. Still hanging out with the guy responsible for all that misery.”
He doesn’t smile, exactly, but the edge of his mouth softens. “You’re different when it’s just us,” he says, making my brows shoot up in surprise.
“Yeah?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “That a good different or a bad different?”
He watches me for a few seconds, and I don’t know why my heart rate picks up the longer he does. “Just an observation.”
I swallow a laugh, pretending like my pulse doesn’t jump. “You know, if you didn’t want to scare people off, you could try smiling once in a while. Maybe even talk to someone. Or… wild idea—flirt.”
That earns me the smallest eye roll, but there’s a hint of color rising in his cheeks, and I can’t help but grin wider. “I don’t flirt.”
I grin. “No kidding.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Good thing I’m here. I could give you a few lessons.”
He looks up, brow furrowed like he’s sure he misheard. “Lessons?”
“Flirting lessons,” I clarify. “You’re overdue, and lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher.”
He makes a face, his nose scrunching. “I’ll pass.”
“Come on,” I say, bumping his knee with mine. “Lesson one: Body language. You need to roll your shoulders back and maybe loosen your jaw a little. It’s a little intimidating to approach you when you look like Cole,” I joke.
His eyes flick to me, unimpressed. “You done analyzing me?”
“Just saying,” I shrug. “You’re hot, but you don’t give anyone a chance to figure it out.”
“I—” He coughs, blinking in shock. “What?”
“What?” I tease, a smile spreading across my face. “You don’t think you’re hot?”
He scowls, color climbing his neck. It starts at his neck, climbs right up to his ears. It’s almost unfair how easy it is to rile him up. “Shut up, Gray.”
“Lesson two,” I say, leaning back and stretching my arm over the couch. “Confidence. When someone calls you hot, you say thank you.”
He turns his head, frowning at me. “You’re seriously still going with this?”
“Yup.” I pop the p, draping my arm over the back of the couch. “It’s a public service, really. Can’t have our goalie terrifying every poor girl on campus.”
His jaw tightens. “Maybe I don’t want to flirt with any girls.”
“Everyone wants to flirt.” I smirk. “Even you, Captain Serious.”
Nathan exhales slowly, tipping his head back against the couch. “You’re exhausting.”
“Lesson three,” I say, shifting so I’m facing him. “Eye contact.”
He opens his eyes, glancing my way—and oh fuck, big mistake. His lashes are stupidly long, and there’s something warm in his brown irises that makes my mouth dry up a little. I swallow hard.
“Lesson four,” I say, clearing my throat. “Compliments.”
He exhales through his nose. “You never stop talking, do you?”
“Not when I’m right.” I nudge his leg with mine. “Come on. Practice with me. Just say something nice. Compliment me.”
He rolls his eyes. “No.”
“Yes.” I tip my head, lounging back. “Live a little. It’ll be fun.”
“It won’t.”
“Scared you’ll like it?” I tease with a smirk tugging at my mouth.
His lips press together, the muscle tensing in his jaw as he keeps his eyes fixed on the fries before shoving a couple in his mouth.
I grin, can’t help it. He’s so damn easy to rile up. “One compliment. That’s all I’m asking. One tiny, harmless compliment. I promise it won’t kill you.”
He lets out a long sigh. “You’re annoying.”
“Not a compliment,” I reply with a tut.
His jaw ticks, that muscle along his cheek jumping. “You want me to lie?”
I blink, feigning offense. “So you think I’m ugly?”
His head jerks up, eyes snapping to mine as he swallows. “I didn’t say that.”
I hold his gaze, a slow smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. “So you think I’m hot.”
“I—Jesus Christ.” He rakes a hand through his hair, groaning like I’m the bane of his existence.
I chuckle under my breath. “You could just say yes, you know. Save us both the agony of your lies.”
He glances sideways at me, a faint flush creeping up the side of his neck.
“One real compliment,” I say, slouching deeper into the couch. “Just one. I’m not asking for much here.”
Nathan doesn’t even glance over. “No.”
“You like my shirt. You think my jawline could cut glass. You admire my charm. Pick one.”
His brows pull together like he’s wondering why he hasn’t murdered me yet.
I grin and tap his knee. “You can do it, man. I believe in you.”
He exhales, squeezes his eyes closed and then his eyes flick toward me, then right back to the TV. For a second, I think that’s the end of it. But then—
“Your hair doesn’t look like shit today.”
My brows shoot up to my hairline and I can’t help but smile at his compliment—or at least the closest I’m getting to one from him. “Holy shit,” I say with a chuckle. “Nathan Hayes likes my hair.”
He shakes his head, but there’s a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late. I’m adding it to my diary.”
Nathan huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head, but his ears are still pink, and that’s what keeps my grin alive.
I lean back into the couch, stretching my arm lazily along the top cushion behind him. “Lesson five,” I say, lowering my voice. “Touch.”
He gives me a wary look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“If you’re gonna flirt with someone, you can’t keep your hands in your pockets the whole time.”
He arches a brow. “You really think you’re an expert?”
“I know I am,” I shoot back. “Here. Pay attention.”
Before he can argue, I reach out, brushing my fingers lightly against the inside of his wrist, before trailing lightly along his forearm. “You start small. A tap, a graze, something that says you’re paying attention.”
His eyes drop to my hand. I can feel the heat under his skin, steady and alive beneath my fingertips.
His eyes flick down to where my hand rests, then lift again, catching mine. He swallows once. “And then what?”
My grin softens. “Then you hold eye contact,” I tell him, “and do something that draws their attention to your mouth.”
His eyes flicker down, straight to my lips, and my own lips part on instinct.
I mean to keep talking, to throw in another joke, but then his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and it’s like someone just cut the power in my brain.
Jesus.
“Yeah,” I manage, quiet, the word slipping out before I can catch it. “Just like that.”
What the hell is happening right now?
I’m supposed to be teasing him. Teaching him. Not…whatever this is. But now I can’t seem to remember what the next lesson was supposed to be.
He lifts his eyes to mine, looking at me like he’s not sure whether to move closer or run, and I don’t have a single thing to say.
The TV’s still on, some laugh track echoing faintly behind us, but all I can hear is the sound of him breathing. The space between us feels smaller than it was a minute ago.
And his mouth—
Christ.
I drag in a breath, but before I can say something, he beats me to it.
“Lesson’s over.” He stands all of a sudden, putting space between us. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
He doesn’t look at me as he gathers the empty cartons and cups from the table.
“Sure,” I say, forcing the word out past the tightness in my throat. “Night, Hayes.”
He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even reply as he heads down the hall with his shoulders tight and his jaw tense before he takes the stairs.
The door to his room clicks shut a few seconds later, and I sink deeper into the couch, staring at the empty space he left.
I drag a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.
The sitcom keeps playing, but I couldn’t tell you what’s happening even if someone held a gun to my head.
All I can think about is the way he looked at me before he walked away… and the fact that I’m still sitting here wishing he hadn’t.