Waiting on the Sidelines (Waiting on the Sidelines #1)(117)

“I think maybe I’m going to go home, if that’s ok with you?” I hated leaving him here alone, but I also knew Travis was a bit of a player and would probably be making out with a girl by the time the night was over.

“You want me to walk you? It’s late,” he was starting to slide down from the wall to stand with me, but I just put my hand on his knee to stop him.

“No, I’ll be fine. There are security guards all over the walk, and it’s not that far. I’ll keep my phone out, though, and I promise I’ll call you if I get jumped from the bushes,” I joked, realizing he was already checking out a leggy blonde girl dancing near Sarah. He just nodded a little, smiled and walked away to work his charm.

The walk back was crowded with other freshman who were walking from the dorms to the dance and the recreation center all evening. It was only 9 p.m., so I didn’t feel anxious about being alone.

I was at our dorm entrance in minutes and walked by the front desk where I flashed my card key that unlocked the main door. I noticed a few letters in my mailbox and pulled them out to flip through them as I took to the stairs. The first was a postcard from Sean from San Diego bragging that his weather was better than mine. The second was from my mom, sweetly telling me that she was proud of me and wanted the honor of being my first piece of mail. I wouldn’t dare tell her that I’d read Sean’s card first.

I was breathing a little harder by the time I made it up the five flights and opened the stairwell door to head down the hall to go to our room at the end. I saw the flip flops and bare feet first, stopping me in my tracks. Reed’s legs were unmistakable, tanned and muscular, his college basketball shorts draped down to his knees. His long legs were jetting out from the wall, his body leaning against my door as he sat on the floor, his eyes closed as he listened to music through his headphones. His hat was pulled down a little over his eyes and his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

Not wanting to disturb him, he looked so perfect and peaceful, I stood still for a few seconds. He was everything I’d remembered, and somehow, over the few months I’d been away from him, he’d grown so much. My mouth went dry as I thought about my words in the paper, and my palms started to sweat when I realized he was probably here to yell at me for being so careless with the reporter and taking the focus off of his achievements.

For a moment, I considered turning around and going to find Sienna to ask her what I should do. But I kept forging forward instead. Finally at his feet, I kicked them a little with my own and he startled awake, pulling his hat from his head and running his fingers through his hair that was once again a little longer.

He stood awkwardly, stretching and trying to get to his feet. I held my breath as I waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, I reached into my pocket for my keys and stared him in the eyes, sure I hadn’t blinked for over a minute. “Wanna…come in?” I asked, sucking my lip in and holding my breath yet again.

He looked down a little, kicking his feet and stuffing his hands back in his pockets before looking back at me. “Yeah, that’d be great. The floor’s a little stiff,” he smiled, stretching his back a little as he walked through my tiny door frame. His body had definitely grown as he seemed to fill my room more than he ever had before. He had always towered over me, but now he seemed to double my width as well.

I followed him in and locked the door behind me out of habit. “You planning on kidnapping me?” he joked when he saw me do it.

“Oh, sorry, habit. My dad calls me to remind me,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m glad he does,” he said, smiling and looking around our room. He looked over Sienna’s desk and shelves with affection before turning to my side of the room. He picked up the small heart pillow I had brought from home and held it close before putting it back down and picking up the hat he had given me. He looked over the pictures on my cork board and straightened one of me and him. I swallowed hard as I watched him, my heart swelling that he was here in my personal space.

He walked over to the window and pulled the curtain back a little to check out our view. “You can see the stadium,” he said, looking out at it for a while before closing the curtain again. I just nodded.

When he turned to face me, my body flushed and I thought briefly I might pass out. He leaned back and sat on the edge of my desk, his hands once again back in the pockets of his sweatshirt. He looked down for a long while, thinking, his forehead heavy with thought and his eyebrows drawn close together before he finally turned up to capture my gaze with his.

“Nolan, what happened…you know that it wasn’t your fault, right?” I had feared this. I just gulped a little and nodded slightly, trying to make myself small. “Do you really?”

He was questioning me and moving closer to me now, standing straight. I was leaning against the wall opposite of him, against our closet door, and as he closed the distance between us I thought seriously about opening the door, crawling inside and locking it to wait him out.

He stopped when he was an arm’s length from me, his eyes still pouring into mine. The green was mesmerizing, like a truth serum. “Nolan? Did you mean what you said in the paper? That you felt like this was all your fault?” he was even closer now. I closed my eyes a little at his question, afraid to look at him this closely.

“Sorta,” I squeaked.

I heard the breath escape him and he stepped forward again, now inches from me, his arm leaning against the wall next to me. When I felt his forehead press to mine, I shook a little, trying to stifle my cry. I kept my eyes closed tight, not wanting to feel any of the guilt I’d tried so hard to escape.