Okay, so I might have been the one to send him packing after we had sex in my bed. But it had been intense, too intense, and I’d needed to collect myself in private. And, yes, I was the one who made it clear that I wouldn’t see him until our next Philosophy class.
And though it’s probably safer if we don’t look at each other during class, his behavior now is odd. He’s withdrawn, not talking. By the time class is over, I’m convinced that we are too. It’s shocking how much this hurts.
Drew leaves first. I find myself following. I might be overreacting. How would I know anymore? My inner radar has gone AWOL. But I buck the f**k up and decide to find out.
He’s already out of the lecture hall and descending the wide front stairs.
“Baylor.” I don’t say it loud, but he hears.
His long stride stutters and then he turns. And because I’m following him down the stairs, we both come to a halt at the same moment, face to face. I’m a step above him, which makes us almost even in height now. I hadn’t noticed it before, being a paranoid freak and all, but now that I get a good look, he’s pale beneath his tan, and his mouth is pinched and white around the edges.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “You look terrible.”
His mouth flattens further. “I’m fine.” He glances toward the quad as if to find safety. And I go cold. He’s never looked to get away from me before.
“All right.” I move past him. “See you.”
I don’t get to take another step before he grabs my hand. “Anna…”
He lets me go when I look down at our hands, and instantly I want his back.
“I have a headache,” he grumbles.
My lips twitch, a strange aching relief pushing through my veins. “And big, strong men don’t admit to weakness?”
The corner of his mouth curls, but he won’t meet my eyes. “Something like that.” Then he goes so pale that I move closer.
“Hey,” I say softly, as I search his face. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”
He gives a bare nod. “Migraines. I get them.”
“I do too.” And they suck. I touch his arm, and the skin under his forearm is like silk. I have to stop myself from stroking him. “You need to lie down. You shouldn’t have come to class.”
“I can’t skip class,” he says with a sigh. “And I can’t go home. I’ve got practice in an hour.”
“Practice? Drew—”
“It’s what I do.” He presses his fingers to his eyes. “Sometimes it sucks. But that’s part of the job. I’ve downed about ten ibuprofen, I’ll be okay.”
“You’re going to have guys slamming into you while you have a migraine?” I need to let this go, but my head hurts for him.
Instead of being annoyed, he gives me weak smile. “Feeling sorry for me yet? Because I think I can manage a tear or two.”
“Stop trying to deflect.” I take hold of his elbow. “Come with me.”
“I don’t know, Jones. As much as I want to, I don’t think I can perform at top level—”
“Drew, shut up.”
Meekly, he complies.
I could take him back to my place but there isn’t enough time. So I lead him toward the student union. The sun is high and bright as we walk across the quad.
The brush of Drew’s fingers against mine tells me he’s trying to grab my hand. I evade him and step away. He doesn’t look happy about that, and I point toward the salad bar. “I’ll be there.”
I leave him frowning before he turns and talks to his fans.
At the salad bar, I find a small condiment container and fill it with olive oil.
“What’s with the olive oil?”
I almost drop the container at Drew’s question. “For someone so big, you can sneak up on a person surprisingly well.” Now that he’s here, I feel the warmth and energy of him at my back. I pop on a lid. “And you’ll have to wait and see.”