The Hardest Fall(15)

When my feet got tangled and I lost my balance for a second, he made a move toward me.

“No,” I yelled, admittedly a little louder than necessary. “No—ah, you don’t have to move. Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead of giving me an answer. His gaze dropped to my tripod on the floor then met my questioning gaze again.

Come again? His question stopped me in my backward shuffling.

“Could you, maybe, oh, I don’t know—come up with an answer instead of more questions? I live here. You’re the one who’s in the wrong place, not me, buddy.”

Another easy smile. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so. You don’t think what, exactly?”

“I don’t think I’m in the wrong apartment.”

“I actually, really think you are.”

He crossed his arms and just stood there…fully clothed, unlike me. “I don’t think so.” He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a key, shaking it in the air.

He had a key.

Goddammit, Zoe, use your brain! How else could he have gotten in?

“Look, uh…” I glanced back over my shoulder—I was only ten, twelve steps away from the corner that would take me to my room. If I could just throw on some clothes and stop with the uncontrollable shivering, I was pretty sure my mind would start working again. “Just give me a minute to get dressed and come back out here so we can…”

He nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead of saying Yeah, buddy, you are, I gave him an exasperated look, barely stopped myself from huffing, and disappeared down the hallway.

Not two minutes had passed before I was back in the living room, fully clothed this time. It had taken me exactly thirty seconds to get dressed, and the other minute and a half had been spent trying to make myself look…better. My heart did this weird jump at the sight of him. Adrenaline…I was sure it was the adrenaline still coursing through my body that made my stomach clench and my hands go ice cold. He was standing in the exact same spot where I’d left him; the only difference was that instead of looking right into my eyes, he was looking down at his shoes and talking on his phone.

“Yes, I understand, Coach. Of course. Okay, I will. Yes. Again, thank you.”

Coach…of course. What was I even thinking?

I’d have loved to call him and talk to him myself, but if he was with his wife, I knew he wouldn’t pick up my call, so why bother?

I leaned down and picked up my wounded tripod. After making sure it wasn’t broken, I set it up closer to the wall where I couldn’t trip on it again then walked toward the couch, the one that would take me farther away from Dylan Reed. Before my clothed ass hit the cushions, he was off his phone, and we were alone again.

“So…from the sound of things, I guess neither one of us is in the wrong place, then,” I said, speaking to his back. Even though I was surprised, I could already guess what was going on.

He turned to face me, and his eyes did a sweep up and down. “It would seem so.”

I felt like I was about to shrink under his stare, so I grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it to my stomach. The way he looked at me… I was tempted to look down and see what he found so interesting, but I already knew I was wearing my black leggings and an old t-shirt that had the words Pizzama Party all over it in small print—nothing interesting whatsoever.

“So…” What the hell was I supposed to say? “You’re here to pick something up for Mark?” That could be a possibility.

He lost the small smile on his lips.

“No.”

That was what I was afraid of. “You’re not just dropping by, by any chance?”

“I think I’m your new roommate,” he announced, getting to the point.

And just like that, I started feeling sick again. I had been holding on to the hope that whatever he was doing there was temporary, but roommate didn’t sound temporary.

“Coach didn’t mention I was coming?” he asked, pulling me out of my little freak-out.

I tried my best to act like everything was okay. This wasn’t my apartment, after all. It was Mark who was paying the rent, not me. “Nope. I’m guessing he didn’t mention I was here, either.”

“No.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, drawing my attention to it. It was still short, pretty much the same length it had been the last time I’d seen him, so at least that hadn’t changed. I kind of liked him with short hair. Walking around the couch, he chose to sit right across from me and dumped his phone on the expensive marble coffee table. I winced at the sound. “He said he wasn’t aware that you’d be here, but it wouldn’t be a problem since you’re barely in the apartment. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be around much either, with football season starting and everything else going on. I won’t bother you.”

I sighed and rubbed my temple. “Sorry to crush your dreams, but I’m always here.”

He smiled, not a big, easy one that did things to my heart, just a promise of one. “You’re not crushing my dreams.”

Not knowing what to say—or more like not knowing how to say it—I fussed with the pillow in my lap instead of meeting his eyes. There was something unnerving about the way he kept meeting my gaze. “Did he tell you who I am?” He wouldn’t, of course he wouldn’t. I knew that, but still…