Page 92 of The Run Back Home
I drink her in. "Seven's perfect."
She lifts one hand, raking her fingers into the hair behind her ear, and suddenly, I remember exactly how they felt dragging down my back.
Her throat moves up and down. "Where should I meet you?"
I lick my lips, and she watches like she wants to do it too.
And fuck, I want her to do it too.
Ideas run through my mind but only one seems to stick, and for once, I run with it before second-guessing.
"I'll text you the address."
She tips her chin down, lingering for an extra second like she might say something else—like she might do something else, but then she shifts her weight back toward the exit. "I should probably get back."
I nod. "Sounds good."
The corners of her lips curl as she twists toward the elevators, and the memory of being there with her before—the vision of her walking away—makes me want to hold on.
"Lenny," I say, reaching for her.
Even just for a second.
She stops, facing me, her eyes dropping to where my fingers wrap around her wrist. "Yeah?" she asks softly.
I let go of her, tucking both hands into my pockets, not trusting myself otherwise not to pull her closer. "Thanks for checking in."
She smiles.
For showing up.
18
Lenny
When I got Jace's text, I sort of thought he was kidding.
Jace H.
101 Stadium Dr. I'll meet you at the west gate.
I figured it had to be a coincidence. Or that I was wildly overthinking it.
No surprise there.
Turns out… it was neither.
So now, walking up to the far entrance of the Gators' stadium, my brain really is working overtime.
Why am I here?
What's the motive?
And how can I be so overwhelmed and yet… so turned on at the same time?
As I get to the gate, which is obviously locked up on an off day, I pull my phone out to let Jace know I'm here. But the second I pull up our string of messages—and give the familiar flutter that comes with seeing his name on my screen a second to settle—I hear him from a distance.
"Over here," he calls, his voice bellowing through me like it was said over the sound system.
