“He’s totally staring at you!” Piper whispers ecstatically.
“Who is he?” I hear myself asking. She’s such a football fan she actually reads about these players in her spare time and follows the scores and the schedules.
“His name is Blake Travis. He’s a junior and already the starting quarterback. Not your typical quarterback, as it turns out. There’s this rumor going around – well, it’s actually more of a headline news item than a rumor. It’s all over Snapchat. He’s nineteen and still a virgin. He’s saving himself for his one true love. Can you believe that?”
“Wow.”
“Of course every girl in the school swoons over him not only because he’s a romantic but also because he’s hotter than hell. I mean, look at that guy, would you? He’s perfect.” Piper has already made friends with the girls sitting next to us. She’s so outgoing and friendly, she can just strike up a conversation with anyone who happens to be around. I feel a pang of jealousy, but it passes. I’ll never be like that, but at least I’ve made one friend so far. That’s probably all I’ll have time for anyway.
As she talks football with our neighbors, I can’t help it: I am looking at him. And yes, he is about as perfect as a person could possibly be. He’s sitting on the players’ bench in the middle of what’s turned into a huddle as their coach talks and makes a lot of hand gestures like he’s worked up. This Blake Travis is sort of half listening and half trying to look over in our direction. He has dark hair that’s messed up from his sweat and his helmet. Even from this distance he looks big and so muscular that I know for a fact I want nothing to do with him. He may be a perfect star quarterback who’s saving himself, but that’s hardly my concern. I have bigger things to worry about than Blake Travis’s sex life or lack thereof. I have a sculpture to make in three months or less. The conditions of my scholarship: that I finish it on time, that it’s amazing, and that I maintain at least a 3.5 grade point average. In fact I should be working right now.
The crowd groans as the visiting team scores a touchdown.
The huddle around Blake clears and I watch him stand up. His eyes scan the crowd until he finds me. I look around me, trying to be subtle about it. Maybe he’s looking at someone else. But no, I can feel the heat of his attention from all the way over here. His lazy fascination. Usually I hate when people stare at me. But this feels different. His gaze feels warm. It’s a strange feeling. Hypnotic and intense. Like he’s already touching me. I don’t feel as shy as usual. It also feels like the temperature in this stadium has just gone up by about ten degrees. I’m practically feverish.
He puts his helmet back on and runs back out onto the field.
His body is long and lean and powerful as he moves. As he makes his plays, he’s cool about it. He’s not hot-headed. He’s thinking carefully about what he’s doing, measuring up his decisions as he watches his teammates. He passes the ball with graceful, measured precision each time. There’s something mesmerizing about him. The entire stadium is spellbound. You can see why he’s the star quarterback. Every single pass he throws is on target. The ball doesn’t even wobble, it just curves and spins in a smooth arc.
I’m as riveted by Blake Travis’s style as I am by his looks. I could watch him all night and I’m surprised to find myself just as engrossed in this game as Piper is. Silently, I’m cheering for him. I want him to get the glory. One of the plays brings him closer to our side, to where we’re sitting in the stands, and this time when he looks at me I can see his eyes are a clear, jewel-like shade of blue, rimmed by dark-black lashes. As our eyes meet from this closer distance, that blue gaze does strange things to me. Connective things. Almost like I can read his mind.
I know what he’s thinking as he runs past me with his glorious body and those steady, vivid blue eyes.
I know why he’s watching me, even as all the other girls call out to him. I can feel not only his fascination but his resolve. His decision. You’re the one I want, that gaze says. You.
No. The realization thrills me beyond belief but at the same time terrifies me, like I’ve just taken a seat behind the wheel of a race car and someone’s revving the engine to full tilt. My stomach does a crazy little flip and I can practically feel the gravity-defying g-forces of a ride that promises to be way more than I could ever handle. I can feel my pulse in hot, needy places.
Suddenly, I need to get out of here.
Blake Travis is a complication I definitely don’t want right now. If I’m too shy to talk to random strangers, I have no business exchanging meaningful glances with the likes of Blake Travis.
I turn to Piper, who’s laughing at something one of the girls has said. “I’m going,” I tell her. “I’ll see you back at the room.”
“What? Why? Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the end of the game?” she says. “They’re only leading by fourteen points and there’s still twenty minutes to go.”
“No, I’ve really got to get ready to start work early in the morning. But you guys have fun. Cheer on our team for me. I’ll see you later.”
Before she can protest more, I bolt. I try to keep calm and take deep breaths as make my way through the stands to the side exit. I walk away from the bright lights and feel a little better as I get swallowed up by the calm, quiet distance. I’m good at being alone. I’m fine. I’m good at keeping my distance and doing the things I need to do.
Without complications.
It’s better this way, I assure myself. I can’t get hurt if I follow my rule, which is all about keeping myself safe from the kind of emotional engagement that’ll only end up breaking my heart.