Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Savannah
Baby James
Back on campus, Anna is napping in our dorm, and I don’t want to wake her, so I bring my backpack to the library instead.
It’s mostly deserted, so my favorite table by the fireplace is free.
The cackle of the flames eating the wood is the only sound I hear, which is perfect for homework, but I’m up to date on that, even ahead on some readings, so I take out my leather notebook.
I got it for my birthday, with a card telling me to fill it with my stories, but so far it just has a bunch of papers slipped into the back pocket where I scribble down ideas and plotting attempts. There are a lot of scraps.
Dallas
Just landed. Loved seeing everyone. HBD Dad, and see you all again soon.
I heart Dallas’ message in our family text chain.
I miss having him close, because I love him and all, but I also liked hanging out in the stands during his practices.
There was always something going on if I wanted to daydream or figure out a plot hole, but there was also something about being out there with nothing better to do than write that got my creative juices flowing.
It isn’t too cold out today, and Sunday afternoons usually had football practices, so I pack everything up and make my way to the field.
I still know most of the players, but they’re all too engrossed in the game to notice me.
Except Parker, who’s been best friends with Clayton for at least a decade, and became Dallas’ protégé when he joined the Wynchester football team, making him my double bonus big brother.
He winks at me and makes an ‘S’ with his hands from their huddle, and though I shake my head at him, my face surely crimson, I can’t help the smile that takes over.
There are a couple of girls watching our interaction, so I get some glares and assessing looks, but they must decide I’m not a threat, because they stick up their noses and turn back to the boys, while I pull my coat and scarf tighter.
A football team would solve a lot of my plotting issues. It would be fun to add classes, interactions on campus, the electricity of game night…but every time I picture my love interest, I now see Dallas, and that will not do.
I cross out that page.
Maybe firefighters?
“Oh my God!”
The voice is way too close for her not to be talking to me, as I’m the only one in this section of the stands, so I close my book and look up.
She has dark hair and fake nails that look like Wolverine’s claws, but her face tells me absolutely nothing. I am about to tell her she has the wrong girl, but she speaks before I can.
“You’re Baby James,” she tells me, garnering us the attention of anyone close enough to hear her exclamations.
I wince when she adds, “Dallas and I were super tight when he went here, if you know what I mean.” She winks, so I figure it out easily, as does everyone else around us, while I try to sink lower into my seat. “Natasha Rummoli.”
She smiles as if she expects me to know who she is.
“Nice to meet you.” I put on my polite smile, resisting the urge to scratch the back of my neck, but my scarf feels like it’s suffocating me.
“The thing is, he gave me his new number, but I lost the paper before I could put it in my phone. If you could just give it to me now, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
She says it with such a straight face I almost believe her, but my brother hasn’t changed his cell number since he got it at fifteen.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll call you when he has a minute. There’s been a lot of training and travel now the season is going.”
I don’t want to be the one to tell her he most definitely blocked her number, unless she never actually had his to begin with, but I can see her brain working.
“Of course. That makes total sense. Only I lost my phone a while back, and decided to get a new number. Stalker ex,” she adds to justify the switch.
“I’m so sorry. If you want, you can give me your number and I’ll pass it along next time he calls,” I offer. And I will. I just don’t think he’ll take it.
“You could just call him.” She tries to hand me her phone, as if I would be dumb enough to type his number into it for her.
“He’s on a plane right now, but like I said—” I get up and try to leave, but another girl joins us.
“Did you say your brother is Dallas James?”
“That last game against Baltimore, he was amazing.”
“He was great,” I agree, tugging off my scarf, but it doesn’t help with the sweating.
I don’t have an issue with crowds, and to be honest, I had no problem giving speeches to hundreds of kids at summer camp.
But this kind of attention makes me queasy.
“I’m so sorry, but I have a meeting with my advisor, so I’m just going to—”
“Do you ever get to see him play?”
“Will he be back here soon?”
“Is he seeing anyone?”
“Hey ladies,” Parker’s flirtiest voice cuts through their interrogation. “How ‘bout cheering for us on the next one?”
Parker never gives jersey chasers the time of day, so they all focus on him, and the other Wolves, allowing me to slip past the girls, where I feel like I can finally take a breath.
I mouth, “Thank you,” and make a beeline for the exit.
I’m not ready to go back to my dorm, whether Anna is awake or not, but I don’t want to go back to the library either. I’m halfway to Words and Lattes, my favorite café on Ivy, when I put my hands in my pocket and find the key fob Dallas asked me to return.
Unlike my brothers, I like to follow the rules, so I head back to campus.
When I walk into the state-of-the-art athletic complex, I head straight for the reception desk to hand it in, ignoring the pool and fancy weight rooms. It isn’t until I get to the intersection of administrative offices and the arena that I hesitate.
The door to the rink is wide open, and I realize I’ve never been inside.
Hockey is one of the few sports my brothers were never into, or at least not long enough for me to go to any games.
I look around to make sure no one can see me before I slip inside. It can’t hurt to take a look, right?
It’s not as cold as I expected, or as empty, as there are a handful of guys on the other side of the ice, waiting for the Zamboni to finish cleaning it. I find the whole thing fascinating.
No one notices me, so I climb the stairs to a block of seats that are partially hidden from the ice, which would suck if I was here to watch a game but all I want is some peace and partial quiet to write.
I pull out my leather notebook and get back to work, coming up with my main plot points, and what makes my characters tick.
I nearly jump when I look up and see a little girl watching me from a few feet away. Her light brown hair is braided into two pigtails, and she’s wearing a sparkly outfit under two winter coats, the top one looking like it could belong to one of my brothers.
“Are you here to watch practice?” she asks, coming close.
“I’d like to,” I tell her honestly, scanning the area for whoever she belongs to.
“You must be special then. My brother says only special people are allowed to watch them practice, but a lot of people come to the games. Do you go to those?”
Without asking, she takes the seat beside me, and I can’t help but admire her confidence.
“I haven’t yet. Do you come here often?”
“Not here, but I used to. You should come. He’s good.”
I assume she means her brother. “I’m sure he is.”
“What are you working on?” She points to the notebook I closed when she walked up.
“I like to write stories,” I admit, though I would usually keep that to myself.
“Like fairytales or chapter books? I’m reading Charlotte’s Web, but there are some words I don’t know yet.”
“I loved that one,” I share. “This is more like a chapter book than a fairytale, but there will be a happily ever after.”
“I like that,” she tells me. “Noah makes up really good bedtime stories when he’s the one in charge. With voices and everything.”
“My brothers were really good at that too.”
“Are you too old for bedtime stories now? My friend Holly says they’re for babies, so I told my mom not to, but I still let Noah.”
“I don’t think we’re ever too old for stories. You’re what, ten?”
“Eight,” she tells me proudly.
“My apologies.” I smile, remembering when I was also thrilled to have people think I was older. “I was a camp monitor, and even the other monitors loved bedtime stories.”
“I was in the Ladybug group,” she admits, looking at me with some kind of regret. “Veronica was in yours, and she said you were the best.”
“That’s very sweet.” I remember the overly dramatic blonde fondly. “Tell Veronica I say hi.”
“Is your name really Banana?” the girl asks with a furrowed brow that makes me laugh out loud.
“Savannah,” I correct her. “But my brothers call me Banana, so I used it for camp. What about you?”
“Isabelle, but most people call me Izzie.”
“It’s really nice to meet you.”
We move on to what I’m studying, and she asks insightful questions, before I am fully distracted by the six foot something adonis walking toward us, looking concerned.
His eyes are a deep blue I’d assume were contacts if the girl beside me didn’t have the same ones.
He runs his hand through his dark hair to keep it off his face, and I’m shocked that my first thought is that I wonder what it feels like.
It’s not even the fact that he’s tall and built and looks like he could bench press me but still look good in a suit – a very important quality.
I grew up with athletes, but he struts up with a pink princess backpack over his shoulder, and when Izzie rushes into his arms for a koala hug and he looks relieved rather than annoyed, my ovaries melt.
“I was worried, Iz. I told you to stay there,” he chastises, but there’s no harshness to it, only concern.
“I know, but I saw Savannah. She was a camp counsellor and she’s going to watch practice too.”
He turns to me, and I am literally speechless.
Those eyes are beautiful on their own, but him focusing them on me makes the world stop and I feel flushed before I remember I should be saying something.
I open my mouth to explain that I’m not staying now I’ve been discovered, but before I can come up with a decent excuse as to why I’m here, a security guard comes out of nowhere and asks, “Who let you in?”