He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Fifteen: Gracie | The Customer Is Always Right

I feel like I'm being swarmed by three tall bodyguards. The arena to the parking lot is all the way across campus. During this walk, RJ and Eli walk slightly ahead of me, and Weston stays close to my side. Apparently, I can't walk in a straight line because my arm continuously bumps into his. And he doesn't pull away.

When we pull up to the house, I slam the car door as hard as I can. My lips twitch with satisfaction when I see the wince on Weston's face. And when he sees the kitchen and the intentional mess I've left behind, I don't stay for his reaction. But I do see him making a direct beeline towards the mop.

Meanwhile, I'm changing out of my clothes and into something comfier. Sweatshirt and some flannels it is. I throw my hair into a high ponytail and scrub off my makeup. The entire time I'm scrubbing my concealer off, my mind gravitates towards Weston. When I first signed up to live here, I expected total freedom and a promise of friendship. What I didn't sign up for was a 6-foot-tall bodyguard with an over-protective stance. Enacting a campus wide hands-off policy is bonkers. Absolutely bonkers, and now the desire to defy this policy is sending me into a furious spiral. With auditions for the fall musical coming up, I don't have the time to brainstorm more revenge tactics against Weston. I need to work on memorizing my lines since I'm going to be auditioning for the main role of Ariel Moore. This means nailing all the high notes.

I'm doing my vocal warmups singing from low to high, then high to low, but my mind is in a different place. And right on cue, there's a knock on my door. I have a feeling I know who it is. So I ignore it. I keep on singing. But the banging doesn't stop. "What?" I snap, swinging the door open.

No other than Weston is standing by my door (surprise, surprise). Weston's hair is freshly damp, like he just came out from the shower. He crosses his arms and leans against the threshold.

Immediately, my head is rushing back to the last time we were in this position. How close we were. How he touched me. And most importantly, how badly that conversation ended.

"It's nine at night." His jaw is clenched so tight, I'm sure it's gonna cost him plastic surgery one of these days. "Do you really need to be doing this right now?"

"I'm sorry. Was it bothering you?" I tilt my head and put my hands on my hips. "Was it annoying? Unnecessary? Is it interfering with your day-to-day life?"

"Okay, princess, tone it down."

"I have an important audition coming up. I need all the practice time I can get."

"Audition, huh?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes. You're looking at the future Ariel Moore of Bomont." Those captivating green eyes place a lock and hold on me. As much as I try, I can't seem to look away. And apparently, neither can he. Weston does a slow sweep of my body in a way that feels personal and intimate. Even though I'm wearing oversized pajamas, he has a way of looking at me that makes me feel half naked. I shift on my two feet. "It's from the movie-"

"Footloose. I know. I've seen it." This fact shocks me to my core. I never imagined someone like Weston appreciating a classic musical. I can't picture him liking musicals at all, actually.

He puts a hand on either side of the doorframe, his arm muscles flexing as he leans into my room. He takes in the atmosphere, eyes landing from my clothes on the ground, to the crystals littering my windowpane, and then to the bra dangling on the door handle. He frowns. "How can you live like this? It's like a pig-sty in here." To make matters worse, (as if insulting my bedroom wasn't enough) he welcomes himself inside. He picks up an empty plate sitting on my desk and quirks a brow.

"I was studying and got hungry, okay?"

He maneuvers around my abandoned laundry on the ground, picking up his legs like he's travelling through quicksand. "When was the last time you did a load of laundry?" Weston asks me while making his way to my wardrobe, where a clutter of stray cups and bowls sit.