Chapter 3
Chapter Three
CHLOE
Why did I have to hit Snooze on my phone?! I’m supposed to be at the Mynt to Make a Difference charity orientation in less than ten minutes. I can’t be late. Not on day one!
I power walk down the hallway and round the corner at full speed, glancing at my watch.
In that split second, I slam into something—or rather, someone. There’s a muffled grunt, followed by a huge splash.
I stumble back, blinking in horror. The sleeves of my pearly-white sweater are soaked. And covered in . . . green sludge? Ugh. I take another step back and land in a puddle of water. It goes through my white Keds. Great. Just great.
Then I see him. A guy sitting on the ground, shaking water off his arms. I gulp. He’s taken the direct hit. His blue polo shirt and brown cargo pants are plastered in the green slime. It’s on his arms, his face, even dripping from his hair.
Guilt floods my system. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” I sputter. “Are you okay?”
He turns to me, pushing soggy strands of hair out of his eyes, and glares. “I’m fine. No thanks to you,” he mutters.
I inhale sharply. It’s as if somebody has dropped me in the middle of the Arctic Ocean and I’ve turned into an ice cube. Of all the people I could’ve crash into, it would be Drew Sullivan. The universe hates me.
I swallow hard. He hasn’t changed at all. He still has the same strong jawline and wavy nutmeg-colored hair. Despite the green muck, he’s still incredibly attractive.
My heart skips a beat. And not in the romantic, butterflies-and-stolen-glances kind of way. More like the I-need-to-get-out-of-here-as-fast-as-humanly-possible kind of way.
He blinks through the mess, trying to assess the damage. “You try to do something nice, and this is the thanks you get,” he grunts, reaching for a roll of paper towels. “It’s the last time I help Emma out.”
I tug my hair forward like a curtain and duck my head, praying he won’t recognize me right now. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“No kidding,” he says without looking at me.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No.”
Ouch. I wince, hugging my soggy arms to my chest. This is not how I pictured our reunion going.
And as much as I want to crawl into the nearest potted plant and disappear, I have to get to that orientation.
I was already running late before I turned Drew Sullivan into an unwilling aquarium exhibit.
“I hate to do this to you, but I have to run. There’s this meeting I—”
“I got that . . .” He trails off, finally looking at me. His eyes narrow. A glint of recognition flickers behind them. “Wait a second,” he says slowly. “Chloe, is that you?”
My stomach drops. “Um . . . hi,” I stammer.
And there it is. He does remember me. All at once, I’m equal parts horrified and giddy? I mean, this isn’t exactly how I imagined Drew recognizing me, but still, he knows who I am.
Luckily, before he can say anything else, a woman shouts my name.
“Miss Reynolds! There you are!” The woman, who is in a fuchsia blazer and wearing a lanyard, comes hurrying over, holding a clipboard like it’s a weapon of efficiency.
“I’ve been looking for you. All the other athletes have checked in and we’re just about to start. ”
“I’m coming,” I say quickly, grateful for the lifeline. “I just had a little . . . accident.”
“I can see that,” she says, her eyes flicking over the scummy pond we’ve managed to create. “Should I even ask, Drew?”
“No,” he says flatly.
She sighs and shakes her head. “I’ll have someone from housekeeping come help you. As for you, Miss Reynolds . . . We need to get going.”
The event coordinator turns and walks briskly down the hallway. I shoot Drew one last awkward grimace, then scramble after her.
As we round the corner, I chance another glance over my shoulder. He’s cleaning his arms with paper towels. He lifts his chin. Our eyes lock. For several seconds, he watches me. My pulse races, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
His face softens. The frustration from earlier slips away as one corner of his mouth lifts in the smallest of smiles. Heat rushes to my cheeks. I have to get out of here. Swallowing hard, I dart inside the safety of the ballroom.