Shaking my head at her, I pull on a clean shirt and work my hair into a loose ponytail, suddenly wanting to make myself as plain as possible—so no other boy notices me ever and Nate can start acting normal again.
Nate
“Dude, what crawled up your ass?” Ty asks when I shove through our door, popping the handle with enough heat to lodge it against the opposite wall. I pry it loose and close the door again behind me, then I let my head fall forward against it.
“Ohhhhh you know, just lost my shit a little seeing Rowe with some bodyguard-looking dude,” I say, rolling my head to the side to look at Ty with a raised brow.
“Ha. You’re jealous. That’s funny,” Ty says, going back to whatever he’s working on at his laptop.
“Uh, it’s not funny. And I hate it. And I’m pretty sure Rowe doesn’t like me like this either.”
“Yeah, well, then maybe she won’t go hanging out with…what did you call him? Bodyguard-lookin’ dudes?” Ty’s not quite teasing me, but there’s a little bite to his comment.
“He was just big, that’s all,” I say, not really wanting to go into how good-looking he was, knowing that would just send Ty into fits of laughter.
“The girl practically got you floor seats to the Thunder game, and she’s over here more than she’s anywhere else. You’ve got nothing to worry about, unless…have you closed that deal yet?”
Silence. I keep my back to him while I pull out my sweatshirt.
“You’re kidding me!”
“She’s different, Ty. This isn’t some girl from summer ball that I’m using to forget about Sadie. She’s…more,” I turn back away from him, hoping like hell I’m going to get serious-Ty and not the ass**le that also inhabits his body. When he doesn’t say anything for a while, I start to relax.
Ty doesn’t say another word, and when Cass comes over, the two of them sit quietly, studying. Rowe comes about a half hour later, and despite all of the sense I’ve talked myself into since I left her room, the minute I see her, my selfish, king-of-the-jungle, pound-on-my-chest instincts move right back inside my body.
She’s wearing a pair of tight jeans, black Converse shoes, and a thin, blue T-shirt. I know she’s going to get cold later, but I don’t want to tell her, because I want her to have to wear my sweatshirt—something of mine. And I want bodyguard-guy to run into us while she’s in it, so we can clear that shit up right then and there.
“You look nice,” I say, doing my best to push the beast that wants to pound his chest back inside. She leans into me, and I kiss her cheek, pulling her close to my side. Her hair is pulled back, and all I want to do is bite her neck.
“Okay, look for us on TV,” she says to Cass, and I reach down to hold her hand again. My teammate Reece was nice enough to let me borrow his car again so I could drive us into the city. I was starting to think I needed to bring my car up from home just so I didn’t have to rely on others so much. It wasn’t a big deal when it was just Ty and I, but now that I want to do things like take Rowe places, it just seems to make sense. I think Ty would like it if I had my car here, too. It’s modified so he can drive it.
Rowe is biting at her lip when we get in the car, and I can tell she’s nervous. I know the crowd is going to be a big deal for her. I tried to talk her out of coming, but I know she wants to prove to herself that she can do this.
“I’ll be right next to you, the entire time,” I say, reaching for her fingers again as I back out of the parking spot. She just smiles nervously.
For the entire drive, we talk about nonsense. Rowe tells me stories about spending Thanksgivings at her grandparents’ farm up North, and I talk about our non-traditional ones with my parents, where we order in a bunch of things that have no relationship to turkey whatsoever. She likes the rambling stories I tell, and I think it’s setting her mind at ease, so I just keep talking. But inside, all I’m thinking about is that ass**le that walked her home, and how I want to ask her about him. But I know now is definitely not the time—it wouldn’t come out right.
The parking lot is packed, so we find a spot near the roadway. We have to walk far, but at least the exit is close, assuming a line of traffic doesn’t block our car in when we leave. The closer we get to the entrance, the tighter Rowe is holding my hand, until eventually my knuckles are actually turning white.
“Rowe, we don’t have to do this. I would be just as happy spending the next hour driving home with you, and then we can stop to get Sally’s or something,” I say, my heart breaking from the terrified look in her eyes as we stand along the sidewalk while hundreds of people pass us. The crowd is so thick, people bump into our shoulders, and Rowe closes her eyes every time it happens.