Sugar Rush (Offensive Line #1)

The flinch is gone from his face but I can still feel it in the air around him. I think it’s tied to this topic. To the future. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one with baggage in that department.

He turns to me, about to say something, but he stops when he catches me looking at him. I’m embarrassed he caught me staring but I don’t look away. Instead I smile easily, something about his eyes on mine making me sigh and settle inside.

His mouth quirks into that crooked grin. “You have a great smile.”

“That is an old, tired line.”

“Maybe the line isn’t tired. Maybe your smile is classic.”

I laugh at how cheesy that sounds, but then if it’s cheesy why am I blushing? And why am I still smiling my classic smile at him?

We’ve made it back to his band of brothers and he offers me his seat, the only vacant one for miles. The boy actually pushes my chair in for me as I sit down, and then moves to the other side of the table to stand across from me, behind Sanchez. I have to admit, I’m liking the view.

I’m hearing an awkward story about a German girl trying to get all up on Birchart at a bar, laughing at his terrible understanding of the German language, and making copious amounts of smiling, flirting eye contact with Jax, when I hear it.

My shame.

“I am the Rally Queen!!!”

I close my eyes and breathe out slowly. When I open them again, Jax is smiling at me.

“Someone you know?” he chuckles.

“Have they seen me yet? Is it too late to pretend I don’t know them?”

“Wren! We found you!” Mel screams.

Jax gives me a pitying look. “It’s too late.”

I swear under my breath as I turn to face my humiliation. Red-faced and disheveled, Mel and Ben come running down the aisle toward me.

“What happened to you?” Ben asks, his voice about ten decibels too high.

“Um, I went pee and you ditched me,” I remind him incredulously. “That’s what happened.”

“We got turned around,” Mel explains breathlessly. “We saw this adorable T-shirt—”

“She saw an ‘adorable’ T-shirt,” Ben corrects.

“And we had to go get it.”

I look at her empty hands. “Where is it?”

“Oh, I didn’t buy it. It was stupid.”

“I thought it was adorable and you just had to go get it.”

“Me too!” she says, getting excited. “I thought it was adorable too. Should I go back and get it?”

“No, you shouldn’t. You should slow down a little.”

“No, no, no. We have to go to the rides now. It’s ride time!” she screams in my face.

“Wow,” someone behind me mutters.

“Okay, guys, yes,” I tell Ben and Mel, looking them both in the eyes for as long as they’re able. “Let’s go do the rides, but let’s stick together, okay? No more ditching Wren. Got it?”

“You got it! I was so worried when we lost you,” Mel says, becoming instantly solemn. She pulls me into a crushing embrace that nearly topples us both back onto the table behind me. “What if someone killed you?”

“That’s cheery, thank you. I’m fine, though, so let’s go do the rides, okay?”

“Ride time!” she cries, letting me go abruptly to jump up and down.

I turn to face American Pie and the gang, feeling a pang of regret. I’d really rather stay here, hear the end of Birchart’s failed romance, and smile at Jax than leave, but drunk, loud hos before bros, so I grimace and wave goodbye.

“Thanks, guys. It was nice meeting you all.” I look at Jax, memorizing the round blue eyes that will haunt my dreams for the next month. “And thanks, Jax, for saving me before.”

He raises his beer in a sort of salute. “Happy to help. Maybe we’ll see you around?”

I feel a spike of adrenalin at the thought. “I’ll be at the rides, apparently, so…”

I don’t have an ending to that sentence so it falls awkwardly between us on the table. All of his buddies are looking down at it with amused faces.

“Wren!” Ben calls, the Drunken Duo already leaving the tent and me behind.

“Bye,” I say, waving one last time and running after them.

This is a huge place, ridiculously so, and I know he’ll never find me. Even if he looks—which I doubt he will—the chances are slim. So I look over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of him one last time, and I find him watching me go.

“Bye-bye, American Pie,” I sing to myself, casting him one last smile.