The Quarterbacks Kiss

6 | Wasting time

"I love you."
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Carson

The band was on stage, pouring their hearts into a song I didn't recognize but had to admit sounded good. The crowd was a mess of swaying bodies, shouting voices, and clinking glasses. If it wasn't for Kade and TK dragging me out of the weight room one hour ago, I'd be anywhere else.

Leaning against the back wall, I sipped my beer and scanned the room.

Okay, maybe not anywhere else.

I spotted her before I was even looking.

Eve Beckett.

She was near the stage, half-illuminated by the pulsing lights, talking to the guy I saw her with after class a couple days ago. Her dark waves bounced every time she laughed at something he said. She looked relaxed, confident, like she belonged here. Meanwhile, I felt like a lumbering giant in a room too small to contain me.

TK elbowed me. "You've been staring at her for five minutes. Gonna make a move or keep lurking like a serial killer?"

I shot him a glare. "I'm not lurking."

"Sure. Totally normal to burn holes in the back of someone's head."

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of my drink, finishing it off. TK just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Relax. Go talk to her. Worst-case scenario, she blows you off."

I pushed off the wall, weaving through the crowd toward the bar to grab another drink, when I felt someone crash into me, hard enough to make me stumble back a step.

"Jesus, watch where you're—" Her voice cut off mid-sentence, and I looked down to see Eve glaring up at me, her water cup teetering precariously in her hand.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

"Carson," she said finally, her tone flat but her eyes sharp.

"Eve." I smirked, glancing at the now-soggy sleeve of her leather jacket. "Spilling drinks on people. Bold move."

She rolled her eyes, brushing past me. "Maybe don't stand in the middle of the walkway like a brick wall."

"Careful," I called after her. "You keep running into people like that, someone might think you're doing it on purpose."

She stopped, turning back just enough to glare at me. "You really think you're funny, don't you?"

"I don't think it," I said, grinning. "I know it."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but I caught the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her cup. Was she annoyed? Flustered? Both? God, I hoped it was both.

"Do you want something, Carson?" she asked finally, her tone clipped.

"I was just trying to help. You know, make sure you didn't get trampled."

"How thoughtful," she said dryly.

"Always am."

She stared at me for a long moment, like she was trying to figure me out. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly, and I wondered what conclusions she was jumping to.