Page 14 of Full Court Love
And pissing me off.
I know the first thing is more important–the second just feels necessary to admit to myself.
He’s laying it on thick. His hands are gesturing nonstop, and he’s giving her a big, gross, cheesy smile.
She’s not having any of it. Her eyebrows are raised, and she’s nodding like she’s thinking of a million ways to kick him in the nuts. I really wish I had some popcorn to munch on while I enjoy this incredible show.
When he tries to put his arm around her, it’s the last straw. She ducks out from under it, leaving him slightly staggering and off-balance. Then she gives him a salute. Like a genuine arm salute.
And I can’t be sure, but I believe I hear the words, “Terrible effort, kiddo. Better luck next time with someone who enjoys mansplaining a little more than I do.”
I’m grinning like a fool, frozen to the spot as I bask in the glory of this moment. It’s the greatest shutdown my eyes have ever had the pleasure of witnessing.
She didn’t need me at all–this girl can definitely take care of herself.
And just like that, she’s gone.
CHAPTER 7
LUCY
Maybe I’m just delusional—it’s definitely on the table. I’m not coming in with a whole lot of experience. And I typically don’t try to read into the emotions of men because I’ve genuinely never cared. I have more important things to worry about. But dammit if Jordan hasn’t thrown me for a loop.
I wore the “going-out” look that I feel most confident in and took extra care to do my hair and makeup. I hate curling irons, but I braved it to make my hair look the most beachy. It feels so stupid when I’ve barely had a conversation with this guy, but I did it. For him–or at least to try to get his attention. I thought he might make some sort of move tonight.
Apparently, I grossly misread this whole situation.
I feel like a massive moron. It seemed like Jordan was looking at me across the bar the entire night, but he never tried to come talk to me. Maybe he was actually looking at someone else. There are more than enough girls on this campus who’d be happy to wear his jersey on the sidelines. To be fair, I was also glancing his way and never made a move, but I was waiting for him to take the lead. Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted this over-confident, model-looking man to pursue me.
Instead, I was left with the idiot freshman trying to put on the moves. He reeked of booze and misogyny–two truly disgusting scents. So now I’m walking home in the cold, alone, because my friends have more stamina than me. And because I misinterpreted–or straight-up imagined– the signals of a guy who’s probably a douchebag.
What a fantastic celebration of our first win of the season.
The worst part is, I really thought he was feeling the same connection, but I’m sure that’s what every girl feels. It’s the reason girls get played by a guy like this. I mean, he was willing to chat with quite a few girls tonight–just not with me. I saw Tyler introducing him around, and I kept praying they would come my way.
But they didn’t.
And he didn’t care enough to do it himself.
Ugh, jealousy is an ugly emotion. It’s also one I’m not super familiar with.
Just as I begin cursing everything from Nebraska cold weather to every male college athlete ever, I hear a voice behind me.
“Hey, Townes. Wait up!”
I don’t bother turning around because I know this voice. It’s familiar from our brief conversations, and even more so from the many postgame interview clips I’ve watched of him.
Plus, though I’d never admit it, I know it from my daydreams.
Jordan Mitchell appears beside me, slightly winded like he’d been running to catch up. Unfortunately for him, he waited just long enough for me to get riled up over his lack of initiative this evening.
The cute nervous little Lucy has gone home for the evening, replaced by the sassy and sarcastic Lucy, who’s far more difficult to deal with.
“Oh, hey, Jordan. Fancy seeing you here.”
Good start. Great work, Lucy.
“Yeah, sorry to chase you down like that. Just thought you might want a walking buddy. These streets are notoriously dangerous.”