Tell Me I’m Wrong (Invisible String #1)

Chapter 1

One

Denise

I’m being stalked by a six-foot-tall hockey player, and I can’t tell whether I like it or not.

Honestly, it’s leaning more toward the latter, but that’s information that I’ll happily be keeping to myself because as much as I secretly enjoy the attention I get from Lucas Callahan, that’s all it’s ever going to be.

He can look but he can’t touch.

And okay…maybe I’m not playing fair because wearing my matching pink workout set to the gym wasn’t exactly necessary.

The spandex of my shorts cups my ass, doing favors for the curves I don’t necessarily have but like to pretend I do. While on the other hand, bending over quickly made me realize my bra was more for aesthetics than function.

But hey, I have every right to want to look hot while working out.

Lucas not being able to take his eyes off me just so happens to be a bonus.

He’s aware that I know he’s watching me.

It’s a game we’ve been playing for months. He can’t keep his eyes off me, I pretend I don’t notice, and we never say a word. But for some reason, today I find it a little hard to play along.

I’m chalking it up to the fact that not only did he come in wearing a white muscle tee that shows off his golden tan skin and stupidly delicious arms, but the second he walked into the gym and spotted me, he apparently decided that today he was going to have the audacity to blatantly watch me.

And maybe it has something to do with me knowing the hockey players have a gym of their own. Fancier than the one here on campus by far.

There, he has access to slide boards. KPullies. VertiMax.

You name it.

It’s a hockey player’s dream, really.

But why he comes here isn’t beyond me, which is why I make a show of working out.

Usually, he’d look away the second I caught him staring, just for him to do it again, but the past hour has consisted of him watching me while he works out.

There’s something about the way he’s almost moving on autopilot just so his attention stays entirely on me, that has me trying to be subtle about pressing my thighs together.

His dark brown eyes move with every step I take, his knowing grin sending a shiver down my spine. The black ringlets that make up his hair are slightly frizzy from his movements and the sweat that coats the back of his neck.

He’s not that much taller than me—maybe only a five-inch difference—but he holds himself with a level of confidence that I usually make a mission to intimidate out of men. I don’t think too much about why I haven’t done it to him yet.

Lucas’s eyes watch and I try to keep my facial expression neutral.

Indifferent.

Not letting Lucas know that I feel whatever this shift is that’s happening between us.

While focusing on my own squats, I can’t help but watch Lucas set the barbell down and purposely sit on a bench right behind me.

His eyes follow every time I squat down but because I like seeing the pained look on his face, I may or may not find myself purposely squatting down lower, staying still for a few seconds longer before coming back up.

My thighs are burning but the look on Lucas’s face is worth it.

Wide eyes and teeth chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.

I take it even a step further by making direct eye contact with him through the mirror, not even bothering to hide my own grin.

After doing this for a few sets, I let out an amused snort when Lucas fixes his shorts. His head snaps toward me at the sound and his eyebrows furrow for all of half a second before he quickly replaces the look with his infamous boyish grin.

“You got a staring problem, Callahan?” I finally let my voice cut through the tension-filled silence between us.

“Only when it comes to you, Stryker.”

I roll my eyes while moving to grab my water bottle, taking a few sips before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and tightening my ponytail.

A quick glance in the mirror next to me reminds me that I need to redo my highlights. The natural blonde parts are starting to look bland.

Lucas doesn’t move from his spot.

Arms resting on the tops of his thighs that seem all too tempting to ride.

I shake the thought from my head because there’s at least four other people nearby, who are taking advantage of the early morning quietness of the gym. Not that I mind a little exhibition but that would go against my three-month attempt of trying to avoid the jock.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you followed me here,” I say, hands resting on my hips.

His grin grows wider. “Well wouldn’t you like to know.”

I drop myself onto the black and white speckled foam gym floor, moving in position to get ready for sit-ups. Lucas finally stands and for a moment I think he’s going to walk closer to me, but instead he moves to my right, where the weight racks are.

His hands wrap around the fifty-five pound cast iron dumbbell set and my eyes follow the movements.

I need to get a grip.

That or I need his grip on me.

I force myself to go back to our conversation and my own workout, rather than what kind of workout the both of us could do together.

“Oh, please,” I scoff, voice slightly shaky from doing sit-ups and definitely not because of the way Lucas flexes his arms. “You’re not as inconspicuous as you think.”

He chuckles and brings the weights back to the bench he was previously watching me from. “Inconspicuous?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that word too big for you?”

“Yeah, actually.” Lucas sits and begins curling his right arm, dumbbell in his hand. “I barely learned how to read yesterday, Stryker.”

I sit back up straight, leaning back on the palms of my hands. The corners of my mouth turn down and I squint in his direction.

He goes about his business like he wasn’t just blatantly staring at me three minutes ago and now he’s not even looking in my direction.

My eyes narrow. “You know, for someone who just loves using my last name, you’d think you’d be more afraid of me actually striking you.”

Lucas finally looks back at me, his eyes taking a painstakingly long look at me. His gaze travels from my legs, deciding not to stay there for long. No, now he’s apparently decided to look directly at my eyes while grinning, like he knows something I don’t.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

He doesn’t give me time to react before he’s turning his attention back to the dumbbells and completely ignoring me.

I cross my arms, shooting daggers in his direction and growing even more annoyed at how broad his shoulders are and how easily my body grows warm at just the sight of him.

This doesn’t usually happen.

Never in my twenty years of life have I ever had a guy ignore me. It’s usually the other way around.

Now it’s my turn to watch him without caring if he notices or not, because what the hell kind of game is this man playing?

He practically couldn’t stop watching my every move for months, and then he follows me into the gym and takes me in like I’m the last glass of water in the desert.

And now he says shit like that just to turn away from me?

It’s stupid to care—which I don’t. If anything, I’m relieved because now I don’t have to worry about him sneaking into my apartment and watching me sleep.

“Something wrong, Denise?”

Lucas doesn’t even have to look up for me to hear the grin in his voice.

Before I walk over there and demand to know what the hell his problem is and where this newfound audacity came from, I shoot up from my spot on the floor, quickly grabbing my bag and water bottle.

My movements have Lucas finally looking up at me, seemingly not the least bit alarmed or even bothered.

“Try not following me out this time, okay?” I huff.

He shrugs, casual. In control. “Can’t make any promises.”

I don’t hesitate to flip him off and blame the shallowness of my breath on working out and not because Lucas has the power to fluster me. Ever. This earns me a deep chuckle and a smile I desperately want to slap off his face.

It’s bad enough that I have to see Lucas during Kingswell’s hockey season with my dad being the head coach and all, but to still have him hanging around my circle is apparently a guaranteed way of pissing me off.

Sure, having his eyes on me is nice. I mean, what can I say?

A guy practically eye-fucking me every once in a while boosts a girl’s ego. The problem just ensues when he finally opens his mouth.