Believe me, I have no interest in Parker O’Ryan. I cross my arms and give them nothing and they finally scamper back down the steps.
Keeping my eyes on Parker, I say coolly, “Well, I guess congratulations are in order.”
“On?” He asks as he drops into the chair across from me, long legs extending under the table.
“Not collapsing under playoff pressure.”
He flashes me his dimples. “You watched.”
“Impossible not to. I’m a Texas girl.”
Not. But he doesn’t need to know that.
I was there. I was in the student section in the end zone where he caught the game-winning touchdown. Why? My reasoning was to see first-hand how the team handled it. But it may have been to see how this guy who is well spoken, and obviously smart, performs on the field when he can’t seem to understand why he’s able to do what he does.
“Am I dreaming or is Annika impressed?” The corner of his lips twitch as he asks.
“I’m impressed by your adrenal regulation.”
He blinks and his eyes widen. “My what?”
“Your fight or flight response mechanism. It didn’t override your motor coordination.” My eyes widen as I get more excited.
Parker throws his head back, laughing way too loud, “You’re saying I don’t panic.”
“I’m saying your amygdala didn’t sabotage you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
I lean my elbows on the table. “You would know if you knew the definitions, which we’re going over in just a minute. But it’s data.”
His eyes narrow. “You analyze me a lot.”
It’s not a question and that’s the dangerous part. Because he fascinates me when he shouldn’t.
His gaze locks as if he has me right where he wants me.
“You give me plenty of data.”
His eyes flicker with interest. “Alright smarty pants. What are we doing today?”
“Action potentials.”
The groan that comes from him makes my thighs squeeze, so deep and raw. “Kill me now.”
“You probably don’t remember what they are.” My shoulders lift almost to my ears before I let them fall. “Don’t you want to know the signals that tell your muscles how fast you need to run to catch the ball?”
“You saw me. I know how to catch.”
“You know how to perform. That’s different.” I admit that I roll my eyes just a little.
And there it is. The shift.
He sits up straight. “You think I just coast.”
“I think you rely on instinct.”
Quirking his left brow he asks, “And that’s a bad thing?”