Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(22)

I finished off half the sandwich, and took up my pen again.

Pick a fucking subject that’s not her. Running. Write about running.

Safe. Easy. I could describe the adrenaline that coiled in my muscles right before the starting gun fired. Or what it felt like to fly over a hurdle. Or that last leg of the baton race with my lungs on fire and my legs driving to the finish line…

Where Autumn waited for me to wrap her arms around my neck, not caring if I was all sweaty, and she’d kiss me…

“Christ…”

I was about to call it a night when my Object of Devotion walked in the door. With her red hair and green dress, she looked like a handful of rubies and emeralds. My stupid heart took off at a gallop and then nearly stopped short when her exquisite face lit up to see me.

“Hey,” she said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah,” I said, my eyes drinking her in as fast as they could before looking away. “Small world.”

“Small world? I’ve been working here for two years and I’ve never seen you.” She started to sit in the chair across from me, then froze. “Oh. Are you busy? I’m just here to pick up my schedule. I won’t bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me.” I moved my shit from her half of the table so she had room. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Autumn sat sideways in the chair, her purse in her lap. “Most mornings, and a double shift on Sunday.” She glanced at my plate with the half-eaten sandwich. “Carb-loading for your meet tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“I remember Connor mentioned it at Yancy’s.” Autumn’s cheeks turned pink. “God, I was a mess that night. I didn’t say anything terrible, did I?”

You said I had ocean eyes.

“Nah, you’re safe.”

“Thank God. When I drink I have no filter and amnesia,” she said with a laugh. “The worst combination.”

Which meant she probably didn’t remember saying I had ocean eyes. Or much of our conversation about poetry and music. Erased by booze, and all that was left was laughing and playing pool with Connor.

Disappointment bit at me, but I brushed it away. Better that way. For her.

Her glance landed on my doodle-filled paper. “Working hard or hardly working?”

“I have a…paper due.” I flipped the notebook to a clean page. “Advanced Macroeconomics.”

“That’s right, you’re an Econ major. Do you have an emphasis?”

“Not yet,” I said, and struggled to fill the silence; to give her something so she didn’t have to drive the conversation. But the girl left me damn tongue-tied while my brain was firing off a thousand thoughts a minute.

The paper due is about you, with an emphasis on how beautiful you look in every light. In sunlight, in a bar, in a dim café. The object of my devotion. I’ve only been in your presence for a handful of minutes, and the only fucking thing I want to write about is you.

“…tomorrow?”

I blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“How many races do you have tomorrow?”

“Three.”

“Three in one day?” she said. “Is that hard?”

“They’re spread out so I have time to recover. Two are short—the 60-meter and 110-meter hurdles. Then one baton relay.”

“How long have you been running track?”

“Since I was a kid.”

“And Connor’s been cheering you on the whole time?”

“He comes to every meet,” I said. “Hasn’t missed one. He’s had my back for a long time, actually. Since prep school, when other kids gave me shit for…lots of things. Not having any money.”

Connor did all that for me because he’s my best friend and he’d never screw me over. Not over a girl, not for any reason.

“He’s a good guy, isn’t he?”

“One of the best,” I said.

Autumn blushed prettily at this and propped her chin on her hand. “What was prep school like?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Her shoulders rose in a shrug. “Can’t help it. Like Einstein says, I have no special talents. I’m just passionately curious.”

“I doubt that.”

“You doubt my Einstein?”

“I doubt you have no special talents.”

Autumn’s smile softened. “That remains to be seen, playing a mean round of pool aside. So. Prep school. Was it as uptight as it sounds?”

“Worse. Bunch of wealthy kids in uniforms. I felt like I’d wandered onto a movie set by accident.”

“How did you…?”

“Afford it? I got in on a scholarship for that too.”

Autumn reached over and tapped my hand, like a mini high-five. “Good for you. Track?”

I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. Autumn had no clue about Sock Boy and with any luck, he’d stay safely locked in the drawer where he belonged.

“You’ve been running a long time, then,” she said.

Chasing, not running. I’ll be chasing that fucking car until I die.

“Yep,” I said. “Speaking of which…?”

“Am I coming tomorrow?” She sighed. “I’d like to, but…”