She was the girl I use to bully. That was until she captured my heart.
Still relevantly new in a relationship, I can't keep my hands off of her. My Red was addicting. Forever addicting.
Now, we're in college with a imperial distance between us.
No...
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With a palm against Mercer's chest, I pushed away from him. My eyes flicker around his handsome face, taking in his features.
He shaved, and his hair was pulled back in an unconventional way for him. I observed that, in contrast to his untidy short strands, his hair has grown since I last saw him. There were dark circles underlying his eyes, and his hard cheekbones were more defined.
"I missed you too," I breathed, my thoughts going crazy.
Who exactly was Harlow?
I was far from stupid to be aware that she has some sort of liking for Mercer. I had questions, and I want the answers to them.
Not that I would ever doubt Mercer, but I wanted an explanation. As if sensing my serious mood, he pulls away with a sigh.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"A bottled water, please," I say softly while following him toward the kitchen area. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to me. "Thanks."
"So," Mercer says, turning back to me. "Mind telling me why you're here? Not that I don't mind it because I love having you around me, and I missed you in my presence like hell. But you did not text or call me.
"I wanted to surprise you." I leaned in front of the island. With the water between my fingers, I played with the cap. "And something felt off about you."
I don't miss the way his shoulders tense. It was almost unrecognizable the moment he moved, but I caught it.
"I'm..." he starts, taking a moment to think of his words. He chooses carefully, as evidenced by his prompt response, knowing that lying to me would only make me upset with him. "It's nothing for you to worry about. I'm not stressed about it."
"Then it shouldn't be a problem to fill me in." I immediately realized my poor word choice as soon as his eyes started to glaze over. "No, no. I meant to tell me what's bothering you."
"It's football. I've been thinking hard on it as far as a career."
My brows furrowed together. I walked to stand in front of him. "You don't know if you want that life."
"If I get there," he mutters, and the agitation in his voice unsettles me.
I did not think twice before setting my water down on the counter and taking both of his hands in mine. "You're amazing at football. One day, Mercer, you will become a pro. I am confident that you will achieve your goal of playing the sport you love on the field.
Although he does not respond right away, the expression on his face indicates that he has heard me.
"And if you decide on another course, I will be right here to support you." I bring his hands up, intertwining our fingers and closing the space between us. "No matter what."
