Playing Hard to Get (The Players)

I’M AT WORK, minding my own business as I restock miscellaneous items that have been returned or misplaced throughout the store. It’s always so messy at the bookstore during the first few weeks of class. Weekday mornings, when students are either in class or still asleep, are my favorite times to work.

Like now.

It’s quiet and peaceful. Only one customer is currently browsing through the store, rifling through the dismal leftovers of school mascot-themed shirts and sweatshirts. When I first spotted her in the section, I let her know we have a new shipment coming in later this week, but that didn’t deter her.

She’s still looking through what’s left, her disappointment palpable.

I’m currently putting away a variety of calculators, which of course makes me think of Knox Maguire and our interaction at Logan’s last night. The whole thing had been so incredibly embarrassing, racing for the chair and landing on his lap like that. I’m still surprised he didn’t push me off of him in disgust.

But he didn’t. Instead, he’d grabbed hold of my waist with those giant hands of his and kept me still. I could feel him beneath me. Hard as rock thighs. Something else might’ve been hard too.

Maybe I was imagining things. I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure he was sporting a semi beneath my butt.

And it was big.

Couldn’t admit that to Natalie though, who found the entire interaction between me and Knox last night amusing. I, on the other hand, did not. It was a humiliating moment I’d rather forget. I’m sure plenty of girls would want to drop on top of his lap and have him grip them by the waist, but not me. I don’t care how tingly I felt when those hands landed on my waist. The entire moment was unsettling.

It’s weird though. I’d been with Bryan for a couple of years. He was my first, my only boyfriend, the supposed love of my life, and not once did I ever feel like that just from him putting his hands on me.

The worst part was Knox didn’t even remember me. Not at first, which kind of hurt, but then again…

I’m sure he meets plenty of people. And I’m just some dumb girl at the bookstore, who sold him a calculator he didn’t want for a class he’s reluctant to take. I’m sure I left a big impression.

Not.

Wild how he could completely forget me in a matter of a few hours. But he’s the big man on campus, while I’m essentially a nobody, so I guess it makes sense. Look at my dad. He was a big-shot athlete who let his moments of fame get to his head, even after his glory years, forgetting all about his family. I guess that’s what men like him do.

They only care about themselves.

I put away the calculators one by one. With three left to go, I hear a deep, male voice from behind me.

“Huh. I think you like hanging out in this section.”

Turning, I find Knox standing in front of me, a sheepish expression on his face.

It’s like I thought about him and conjured him up, which is…unsettling.

Again.

Why does this keep happening?

“Oh.” I brush a stray strand of hair out of my eyes, clutching the packaged calculators I still need to put away close to my chest. “Hey.”

He lifts the calculator up that he purchased from me yesterday, still in its packaging, the crumpled receipt clutched in his hand. “I need to exchange it. The professor said I got the wrong one.”

I frown. “She did?”

He nods. “Yeah, she was kind of pissed about it too, when it was an honest mistake.”

“My mistake,” I add, hating the guilt that washes over me.

“Nah, I must’ve screwed up. That’s all on me.”

“Which one do you need?”

His phone magically appearing, Knox studies the screen as he rattles off the model number, and I realize I’m holding the very one he needs. “Got it right here. Let me put the rest of these away and then I can exchange it for you.”

“Okay, great.”

I thought he’d go to the cashier counter and wait for me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he remains behind me, watching as I put the other calculators away. It’s as if I can feel his intense gaze tracking my every movement and he’s making me feel self-conscious. Of course I drop one of the calculators, wincing when it clatters loudly onto the floor.

He reaches down and picks it up, handing it to me while I stand there and blush like an idiot.

“Sorry.” God, I wish I could punch myself in the face.

“Accidents happen,” he says easily.

“Thank you.” I take the calculator from him, hating the spark of electricity I feel when our fingers brush. I don’t even know how that happened, or why we touched each other, but we did and it was odd, how my body reacted.

Don’t think that’s ever really occurred before. I blame his superstar magnetism. He pulls people into his orbit, even those who don’t want to be there.

Like me.

“You have fun at Logan’s last night?” he asks out of the blue.

Oh. I’m surprised he wants to make conversation with me. “Minus having to fight over a chair with some random guy, yeah. I had a good time.”

I’m lying. I had one drink and then was desperate to go home, mentally vowing to never return to Logan’s again. I stuck it out for Natalie’s sake—and the fact that I didn’t want to leave alone. I acted like I was having a decent time, a fake smile plastered on my face, as I clutched a glass of Sprite while saying it was vodka and soda to whoever asked.

People who drink at bars don’t seem to like seeing people who remain sober, so I’ve learned to pretend I’m getting drunk with the rest of them.

“Ha, nice one.” He smiles, and it’s just…wow. I’m momentarily struck by how his entire face lights up, and his greenish eyes sparkle. He has nice teeth. A nice mouth. Sharp cheekbones and a square jaw. A nose that’s perfectly proportioned to his face. Thick brows and long eyelashes and holy shit, I am blatantly staring at him like a lust-filled groupie.

Blinking, I turn away from him, reshelving the last calculator before I head for the cashier counter. He keeps pace beside me, his strides long, which causes him to gain a few steps ahead, and I scurry to catch up to him.

“This calculator is more money, I’m afraid,” I say as I shift behind the counter, lifting up the package.

“Figures. I’m cool with it.” He sets the old calculator on the counter, along with the receipt.

I run through the transaction, making the exchange, trying my best to be efficient while he just watches me. It’s a completely different interaction from yesterday when he got on his phone and immediately forgot all about me.

Honestly, I don’t know which one was worse.

“Okay.” I hand him the new receipt and he signs the bottom of it. “Hopefully this is the right calculator.”

“It better be. Almost feels like she’s messing with me.” That smile of his is still on his face and I try not to look at him straight on, in fear of what I might do if I allow that pretty smile to influence me in any way.

I might say something stupid, like “let’s go make out,” which would be completely embarrassing.

Especially when I know he’ll reject me.

“Well, thank you.” I hand him the bag with his new purchase and he takes it, though he doesn’t walk away from me or say, ha ha, you’re welcome, like he did last time.

“Hey, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened last night.” The solemn expression on his handsome face tells me he means business. “I didn’t mean to steal that chair from you.”

“Oh.” His apology surprises me. I figured he didn’t think he did anything wrong. “It’s okay. Really.”

“I hope you weren’t embarrassed.” He visibly swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “That was never my intention.”

“I wasn’t that embarrassed. Only a little bit.” I try to smile.

He does too.

“Am I forgiven?”

If Knox keeps looking at me like that, he could murder my parents right in front of me and I’d probably forgive him. “Definitely.”

“Whew. Good. Don’t want any bad karma haunting me as I go about my day.” He lifts the bag he’s holding. “Thanks again for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” Knox starts to walk away and I call out, “Have a nice day!”

He glances over his shoulder, that devastating grin still on his face. “You too.”

The moment he’s exited the bookstore, I slump against the counter, a shaky exhale leaving me.

“What was pretty boy Maguire doing here again?” Leon asks, magically appearing beside me.

I narrow my eyes at my co-worker. “Where did you run off to?”

“I had to go into the back real quick to check on something. Never even saw him come in.” Leon curls his arms in front of his chest, his gaze on the store entrance. “A visit from the famous football star two days in a row? Very suspicious.”

“He bought the wrong calculator for his statistics class,” I explain.

“Uh huh.” The doubt in Leon’s voice is obvious. “Maybe he’s trying to flirt with you.”

“Please.” I explain to Leon everything that happened last night at Logan’s, leaving out the possibility that Knox had a hard-on when I briefly sat on his lap.

I’m sure I’m just imagining things, and I don’t need to start any needless rumors.

“I don’t know, Jo Jo. He might like you.”

“Very doubtful. He apologized for stealing my chair and exchanged his calculator. That’s it. End of story.” I point at Leon. “And don’t call me Jo Jo.”

He used to call me that all the time and it got under my skin, which he totally knew. He even had a name badge made for me that said Jo Jo, though I stashed it away in the old, beat-up desk that’s in the store’s stockroom.

“Look what I found.” Leon holds up a lanyard with said name badge attached, the irritating nickname on it. “Jo Jo is back in action once again.”

“No,” I groan, shaking my head, “don’t make me wear it.”

“As assistant manager of the store, I insist. You don’t currently even wear a badge.” He points an accusing finger at my chest. “Where is it?”

“I always forget. You know how I am.” Plus, sometimes I just want to pretend I don’t work here. People leave me alone, always going to Leon or another co-worker with questions.

It’s not that I hate my job. I love working here, but sometimes, I hate peopling.

Peopling is the worst.