8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Joel isn't saying a word as he drives. I'm staying silent, too.

When we got to his car, Joel slid back my seat as far as it could go so I could keep my injured left leg stretched out in front of me. Now that we're en route to my apartment, he has the heater cranked up to maximum, and my shivering is thankfully subsiding.

"How are you doing?" Joel breaks the stillness, his words laced with tension.

I lift my head off the headrest and look his way. "Much better now, thanks to you."

Joel glances at me and puts his concentration back on the road. He doesn't reply.

"How did you find me, anyway?" I shift in my seat to view him better. "Up until this evening, I didn't even know there was a creep-tastic basement in that building. How did you know to look for me in there?"

"I didn't know to look for you in there. At least, not at first." Joel's jaw muscles are working as he adjusts his hold on the steering wheel. "After you insisted on leaving the gym alone, I was worried about you. I called your phone a couple of times, but the calls went straight to voicemail. I therefore took the liberty of driving to your apartment to make sure you got home all right. When I knocked on your door, however, no one answered."

It takes a beat for me to process Joel's words. He drove all the way to my apartment to check on me? I'm so overcome by this revelation that I don't even know what to say. The only thing that comes out of my mouth is:

"Savannah is working at the Coffee Loft this evening, which is why she wasn't home."

"I know. I discovered that when I went to the Coffee Loft next."

"You also went to the Coffee Loft?" I'm unable to hide my astonishment any longer. "You did all of that to make sure I was okay?"

Joel frowns. He suddenly cranks on the steering wheel, yanking the car over to the side of the road. He brings the vehicle to an idling stop, his hands still gripping the wheel while he stares outside.

"Um, is everything okay?" I dare to inquire.

Joel releases his hold on the wheel and faces me. "Danielle, I don't know what happened in your past to make you believe that guys who are athletes would never care about you, but not all guys are the same." The gleam in his eyes is fiery. Determined. Piercing. "So the answer to your question is, yes . Yes, I also went to the Coffee Loft to try to find you. I needed to know you were safe." He exhales hard and goes back to glaring out the windshield.

I stare at his profile, again rendered speechless, while a potent heat expands in my chest. All is intensely quiet. Joel turns his head to look at me again, causing the glow of the nearby streetlight to land upon his alluring features and make his eyes shine. Suddenly, the quiet between us electrifies, and our gazes lock in a more feverish way. A powerful magnetic pull seems to draw me to him, and I lean his way. Joel's chest rises and falls with his deep breaths as he leans toward me at the same time.

Assuming you don't get banished, you're starting med school next year, which means your life won't be your own. So no matter how Joel is making you feel in this moment, nothing can come of it. Besides, he's going to become an even bigger celebrity soon. When this month is over, you'll be nothing but a vague memory to him.

The voice in my head gets its point across, brutally and clearly. I sit back. Instantly, Joel's face becomes empty of emotion, and he focuses out the windshield. He resumes driving, appearing as unruffled as ever. I attempt to look equally unfazed as I pull my gaze from him and stare outside, but my heart keeps thundering in my chest.

What just happened between us?

Did something just happen between us?

"In further answer to your question," Joel is speaking as if nothing is out of the ordinary, "when I got to the Coffee Loft, Savannah informed me that you hadn't been by. She also mentioned that you sometimes study in the tutoring center, and so I went there next. After I got into the building, I―"

"How did you get in?" I dare to look at him again. "The building was locked."

Joel's attention stays on the road. "It's locked until you kick open one of the back doors."

My jaw drops. "You managed to kick open one of those gigantic doors? I mean, don't get me wrong: it's clear you have more than enough muscles to . . . that is, I just didn't think that . . ." I cut myself off, my cheeks scorching.

Joel's eyes float over to me. Perhaps it's the way the streetlights are now dancing upon his features, but I swear he grins a little before he goes back to watching the street.

How utterly, aggravatingly cocky of him . . . and how immensely, roguishly attractive.

I quickly go back to watching out the window.

"When I got inside the building, I went to the tutoring center first, since the light was on in there." Joel is speaking in all-seriousness again. "I saw your bag, so I knew you had to be nearby. I started walking the hallways, and that's when I spotted your badge on the floor outside the door that led into the basement."

I push my hair from my face. "Joel, I don't know what would have happened, if you hadn't found me. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. Like I said, you're my teammate, and teammates look out for each other."

Before either of us can say more, my apartment complex comes into view. Joel parks, gets out of the car, and grabs my things from the backseat. He comes around to my side of the vehicle and opens my door. He slips an arm around my waist and assists me from my seat.

"How's the knee?" Joel is holding me against him.

I bear some weight on my left leg. "Fortunately, it's not bad. My knee is sore, but it's nothing that'll keep me from practicing on the basketball court every day until―"

My knee buckles. Joel immediately scoops me up in his arms and carries me into the building. Ignoring the stares of the other people who are in the lobby, he takes me into an elevator and up to my floor. Only once we're in front of the door of my apartment does he set me on my feet once more. My body is flushed as I accept my bag from him, pull out my keys, and unlock the door. Joel slips an arm back around my waist and assists me inside while using his foot to shut the door behind us. With his free hand, he flips on the lights, and then he takes my bag and sets it on the foyer table.

I lift my eyes to his. His gaze traces down to my face. Instantly, that wild electricity―that magnetic pull―returns and consumes the quiet. My pulse rate rises. All I can think about is what it would be like to kiss him.

I need to say something. STAT.

"Do you like casserole?" I blurt out.

Joel's eyebrows rise. "Uh, yes. Casserole is great."

"Okay, um, that's good because we have leftover chicken-broccoli casserole in the fridge. It's delicious. Would you like some for dinner? It's the least I can do to repay you for your help."

Joel's eyes flick toward the kitchen. "Sure. Thanks." He slips his arm from my waist.

I pause. Did I just invite Joel in for dinner?

Is this a sort-of date?

A breath later, I coach myself back down from the rafters. Of course this isn't a date. I'm merely thanking him for rescuing me from the haunted basement.

"Um, please come on in." I motion for Joel to follow me.

I lead the way, limping into the main area of the apartment. I turn on more lights while doing a rapid survey for anything embarrassing that Savannah or I may have left lying about. Fortunately, except for the two empty containers of ice cream that are on the couch near the remote control, I don't spot anything incriminating.

I move into the adjoining kitchen. "Please have a seat at the table, and I'll get the casserole heated up."

Joel returns to my side. "Why don't you sit down and let me do the prep?"

"Thanks for offering, but this is no problem." I open the fridge and pull out the heavy pan of casserole, which Savannah and I made the other night. "My knee pain isn't terrible; it's nothing that's going to keep me from practicing my shooting each day before the fundraiser."

Joel takes the pan from me nonetheless. "Speaking of the fundraiser, I was actually hoping to chat with you about it."

I slowly shut the fridge. Here it comes: Joel has (wisely) realized that if he's going to have any chance of saving the play area, he needs to jettison me as his teammate. It's the right call, even though it's crushing. I want to help those kids. I want to stop Angela from shutting down something that's important to young patients. I want to stop cocky Kaden from beating Joel. I also want to defeat sweet, drop-dead-gorgeous Felicity, who's clearly crushing on Joel and . . .

Okay, the Felicity part of things is beside the point.

The point is that I wholeheartedly agree that Joel should team up with an elite-level basketball player rather than staying weighed down by a chemistry tutor whose only basketball experience comes from shooting in the driveway of her childhood home. Yet although it's the right and rational decision, getting benched is still tough to absorb. The competitive streak in me, which up until recently I didn't even know existed, fiercely wants to be on the court fighting on behalf of those pediatric patients.

I can't be selfish, though. This is too important.

"I know what you're about to say, and I truly understand." I grab two plates out of a cupboard. "I agree that you need a real basketball player to join you for this fundraiser. There's too much on the line."

Joel sets the pan on the counter and watches while I put a big serving of casserole onto each plate. "Actually, that's not what I was about to say."

Relief mixed with surprise flashes through me, and the sensation is quickly followed by a hefty amount of confusion.

"It wasn't?" I put the first plate into the microwave. "So what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that I signed you up for this fundraiser without stopping to consider the stress it would put you under." Joel rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "There's no one else I want on my team, but the publicity you're being forced to endure . . . the worry . . . the risks this event may pose to your future career . . . the obnoxious way Kaden is flirting with you . . . what happened this evening . . ." he trails off and drops his arm to his side. "It's not right for you to go through this. I can't allow anything like what happened tonight to happen again. I'll find a new teammate."

The microwave pings.

I turn from Joel, open a drawer, pull out some hot pads, and remove the plate of bubbling-hot casserole from the microwave. The kitchen seems particularly quiet as I carry the plate over to the table and set it down. Still staying nothing, I slip the other plate into the microwave. Though I'm saying nothing, however, my brain is spinning. Joel is being a gentleman. He's worried about my well-being as much as he's worried about saving the play area, and he is doing everything he can to make things right for all involved. Not to mention, he deserves a more talented teammate.

So why is the competitive spark inside of me expanding into a blaze? Why do I want to practice for hours every day to make sure that Joel and I win? Why am I determined not to get scared off by Angela, Kaden, or the media?

Because this matters to me. And when something matters to me, I see it through. Whether it's acing a test, helping someone I care about, or ensuring I have a good enough application to get interviewed at top med schools—if it's important to me, I do all that I can to make it happen. And this determination includes doing all I can to save the play area.

I grab some glasses from another cupboard. "Before I reply, Joel, I need you to promise to be truthful with me. You have to be totally honest when you answer the question I'm about to pose, no matter how much you think it might hurt me."

Joel nods once. "All right."

"Taking all other factors out of the equation, who would you choose to be your teammate?"

Joel actually smiles. "That's easy. Like I've said before, the answer is you. Anyone who's willing to march into Angela Cox's office―especially when she's about to start interviewing for med school―has heart, grit, and tenacity. And that's who I want on my team."

I smile, too. "Then as I've said before, I want to be in the competition with you."

"Are you sure?" Joel's expression grows serious again. "Even after what happened this evening, and despite all you've had to put up with already?"

"I'm sure. I'm completely sure."

Joel's eyes don't leave my face as he takes the cups from my hands. Without warning, I'm rapidly consumed by another extremely inconvenient urge to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. Thankfully, I'm saved by the microwave pinging again. I retrieve the food and carry the plate over to the table. Joel fills up the glasses with water and adds them to our place settings. I put down utensils and napkins, and he pulls out my chair for me. After I sit down, he takes his place across the table. We're just about to dive into dinner when his phone starts ringing.

"Sorry." Joel retrieves his phone from the pocket of his sweatshirt. He glances at the screen and pauses before silencing the noise.

"Please feel free to answer that, if you need to," I tell him.

Joel puts away his phone. "It's all right. It's Felicity. I'll call her back later."

I act unbothered, but there's an unmistakable stab of disappointment in my heart. I know it's absurd of me to feel this way, though; there's no reason why hearing Joel say Felicity's name should throw me off-kilter. Frankly, Felicity is a perfect match for him: she's gorgeous, athletic, and someone who understands the zany, stressful world where celebrity, student life, and rigorous athletic demands collide. She's also obviously crushing on him . . . and perhaps Joel is quietly crushing on her, too.

"Felicity seems great." I adopt a cheerful tone. "It's too bad she's already taken for the competition. The two of you would make a fantastic team."

Joel stops with his fork hovering above his plate. "So you think there's something going on between Felicity and me."

I take a bite of my food, chew, and swallow. "No. However, it seems that there could be something. She certainly seems into you, anyway."

Joel proceeds to consume a huge fork-full of casserole and chug down approximately fifteen gallons of water. He then puts down his glass, refocuses on me, and firmly remarks:

"There's nothing romantic between Felicity and me. The last thing I would do is enter a romantic relationship at this stage of my life."

His words hit me once . . . and then twice. The first time, I idiotically experience relief. The second time, even more idiotically, I'm struck with more disappointment. I almost shake my head at myself. None of this should matter to me or come as a surprise. This shouldn't affect me at all, in fact.

So why, then, is this affecting me?

I bolster my smile and attempt to keep things lighthearted. "I'm guessing it's not common for celebrity-athletes like you to put dating on the backburner. You probably have women chasing you wherever you go."

"Nah." Joel's demeanor is as humble as ever. He starts cutting another bite of food. "However, I have come to learn that some women are more interested in my so-called celebrity status than they are in the man who's behind that status. It's one reason why I'm not interested in pursuing romance right now."

I pause. I'm ashamed to realize that I've never considered this perspective before. It must be awful for Joel—or for anyone in his position—to wonder if he can trust someone's true intentions and interest. I don't blame him for deciding to put away his heart.

"That must be hard," I comment.

"Well, as I said, it's one reason why I've decided to put aside romance for now." Joel looks at me directly. "Far more importantly, though, is that I would never drag the woman I love into this crazy life that I'm living. My schedule is hectic. I travel a lot. My days are consumed by sports and schooling. Not to mention, if I pursue sports after college, my world will get exponentially busier. I'm already fielding offers to play basketball professionally here in the States, to play professional volleyball in Europe, and to join the coaching staffs of several elite college men's teams."

My eyes get big. "Wow. That's impressive, Joel."

Joel shrugs. "I don't know if it's impressive. However, I do know that I would never want the woman I love to feel neglected because I'm living such a fast-paced, busy life. I also don't want her to be subjected to the absurd amount of media scrutiny that athletes' significant others are forced to endure." He shakes his head. "I'll stay single before I make the woman I love go through any of that."

I take my time drinking my water, letting myself absorb Joel's words. He's single not because he wants to be, per se, but because he wants to protect and prioritize the woman he cares about. Even if he fell in love, and he was certain that she loved him for the right reasons, he would still protect her rather than pulling her into his celebrity world.

And to think that I once assumed Joel was an arrogant, self-absorbed jerk.

And to think that, although our lives are drastically different, Joel's situation is reminding me of . . . my own.

"In a way, I understand what you mean," I dare to say. "While I obviously don't have a clue about what it's like to live in the spotlight, my life is so absorbed by other commitments that my schedule isn't conducive to romance, either. Though I want to find love, romance is going to have to wait for a long time."

Joel sets down his drink. Slowly. "And are you happy with your life as it is?"

I don't answer right away, and it stuns me that I need to ponder his question. Only a few weeks ago, I would have immediately and confidently replied that I was happy with my life's plan. Now, however, I'm not so sure.

"That's a complicated question," I confess. "I can honestly state that I love medicine and it's what I want to do with my career. However, pursuing this path means giving up a lot of other things I want, including a relationship." I look past Joel and stare out the main room's window. "Most daunting of all is that, much like how you describe your life's trajectory, this is only the beginning. If things go according to plan, after I graduate from college, I'll go right into med school, and after that will come several years of residency. My life won't be my own. So, like you, I don't want to get involved in a relationship because I can't give it the time it deserves. Plus, I don't yet know where I'll be going for med school or residency, and I wouldn't want to put a man through that uncertainty either."

When Joel doesn't reply, I shift my eyes back to his. He watches me a second longer before he resumes eating. Quiet settles over us. I realize, though, that it's not a strained or uncomfortable quiet. Shockingly, it's a calm, pensive quiet that makes me feel at ease with my own thoughts and emotions. I don't know how it's possible, yet out of all the guys in the Universe, this famous athlete makes me feel safe, whole, and understood.

The stillness is broken by the sound of the front door getting unlocked.

"Danielle, are you here?" I hear Savannah start walking toward the kitchen. "Joel stopped by the Coffee Loft and . . ."

Savannah goes mute when she reaches the kitchen and sees Joel seated at our table. She glances my way. A mischievous smile appears upon her lips for only a nanosecond, but I know what she's thinking: she's thinking that Joel and I are . . . that we might be . . .

We can't and won't be together, though. Tonight's conversation has made that clearer than ever.

Savannah refocuses on Joel with a friendly smile. "Hey, Joel. Long time no see."

Joel stands and grins. "I hope you don't mind that I'm enjoying some of this fantastic food."

Savannah sets her purse on the counter. "Not at all. I'm glad you're helping us eat it." She looks between the two of us while pulling a plate from the cupboard. "I'll just heat up some for myself and head into my room to study."

"You don't have to go. You're more than welcome to join us." My tone is as casual and breezy as Savannah's, but I know she'll detect the hidden message in my words. "Feel free to stay and hang out."

Savannah's eyes dart my way, letting me know that she understood perfectly.

There is nothing going on between Joel and me, and there never will be.

And my heart feels like it's going to break.