The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 56
“It’s really new,” William said flatly, glaring at me. Something in my eyes must’ve won him over because the big guy sucked in a large breath, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and faced Bryan, saying, “And we’d like to keep it between the two of us.”
Something passed behind Bryan’s eyes, some emotion I couldn’t quite read as he stared unflinchingly at his teammate. Bryan’s glower was menacing and the air began to press heavy, thick with unsaid words.
William stared back. The tense moment caused a twisting achiness in my chest and a spike of nervous sensation to alight along my skin.
Eventually, Bryan glanced away. His lips twisted in what looked like a bitter smile. “Well, that’s nice,” he said, making the words sound like an insult. “You two have plans for tonight?”
“No,” I answered for both of us, guilt—always guilt, for the lie, for pulling William into my drama, for just everything—carving out a hollow space in my chest. “Not tonight.”
But I need time to think! Away from Bryan and his tiny towel of doom.
Dun dun DUN!
Unexpectedly, William volunteered, “Friday. I’m taking her out Friday.”
I nodded unnecessarily.
But before I could say anything, William added, “And, you know, lunch tomorrow.”
I glanced at the big guy, startled, certain both question and confusion were etched on my forehead.
William turned a wry smile on me. “And maybe Thursday, too,” he shrugged, his smile warming, “if I’m lucky.”
***
“I am so sorry,” I blurted, sliding into the seat across from William.
He lifted his brown eyes to me, wide with surprise, presumably at my sudden appearance, and then finished taking the sip or gulp of his drink.
It was lunch on Wednesday. William had left a message for me to meet him at a pub across the street from the complex. I had no chance to apologize the night before, since roping him in to playing my pretend boyfriend.
After making my false announcement, I’d left. I’d gone home and tucked Patrick into bed. And then I’d lain awake half the night fretting, growing angrier at Bryan, because how dare he!
And yet, every time I closed my eyes I saw him in his housecoat, clutching his mint tea. Or I saw him with his head thrown back, laughing at my embarrassing story. Or I saw him in the park, when he’d first set eyes on Patrick.
Or I felt his hot breath falling over my shoulder, the slide of his finger on my throat, the aching brand of his lips against my skin.
Crackers.
Presently, swallowing his gulp of water, William gave me a small—very small—smile, and asked, “Why are you sorry?”
I stared at him, shaking my head, not knowing where to begin and finally settled on, “For this. For lying. For forcing you into going out with me for lunch.”
“You didn’t force me. Lunch was my idea.”
I shook my head, pushing the menu to the side and folding my hands on the tabletop. “William, I am so sorry. I’m—I don’t even know where to start. I’m just so sorry. I’m a hot mess and I dragged you into my messiness, and Bryan—”
“Bryan is your son’s father.” William placed his hand over mine.
I closed my eyes, letting my chin drop to my chest and gave him a half-hearted nod. “How did you know?”
“He told me.”
My head shot up. “He what?”
William nodded. “We’re roommates.”
“He told you?”
“Yeah. This morning on the way in. We ride together sometimes.”
I exhaled a disbelieving breath, my eyes moving unseeingly to a spot over William’s shoulder. “I can’t believe he told you.”
The big man cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to him. His expression was patient and kind as he said in his quiet way, “I was going to ask you out.”
“You-you what?”
“I was planning to ask you out,” he said simply, honestly, openly, a rumbly straightforward confession. “I don’t want you to think this,” he motioned between the two of us, “is a hardship for me. You’re lovely. And genuine and kind. I like you. A lot.”
. . . dun dun DUN!
I gaped at him, unable to do anything else. I was not prepared for this.
I was prepared for his irritation. I was prepared to apologize profusely. But I was not prepared for this.
WHY MUST THESE MEN CATCH ME SO UNPREPARED???
His eyes darted to my lips, and his curved to one side, just subtly. “You’re more than lovely. You’re beautiful. But you already know that.”
“William, I . . .” I shook my head. What is going on?
“I wanted to tell you. You have no reason to apologize,” he finished gently, his brown eyes now striking me as remarkably soulful.
So I stared at William Moore. I really, really looked at him.
He was good and honorable, hardworking and ethical. I knew this to be true. The guys on the team respected and admired him, as did the administrative and coaching staff. And clearly he was brave, fluent in emotional maturity.
William would make a great father, the thought popped into my head before I knew I was thinking it—unbidden, honest—followed immediately by another thought, equally unbidden. But William is not who you want.
I gave him a warm smile that I hoped reached my eyes, flipping my hand over and twisting our fingers together. “You are a remarkable person, William Moore.”
Something passed behind Bryan’s eyes, some emotion I couldn’t quite read as he stared unflinchingly at his teammate. Bryan’s glower was menacing and the air began to press heavy, thick with unsaid words.
William stared back. The tense moment caused a twisting achiness in my chest and a spike of nervous sensation to alight along my skin.
Eventually, Bryan glanced away. His lips twisted in what looked like a bitter smile. “Well, that’s nice,” he said, making the words sound like an insult. “You two have plans for tonight?”
“No,” I answered for both of us, guilt—always guilt, for the lie, for pulling William into my drama, for just everything—carving out a hollow space in my chest. “Not tonight.”
But I need time to think! Away from Bryan and his tiny towel of doom.
Dun dun DUN!
Unexpectedly, William volunteered, “Friday. I’m taking her out Friday.”
I nodded unnecessarily.
But before I could say anything, William added, “And, you know, lunch tomorrow.”
I glanced at the big guy, startled, certain both question and confusion were etched on my forehead.
William turned a wry smile on me. “And maybe Thursday, too,” he shrugged, his smile warming, “if I’m lucky.”
***
“I am so sorry,” I blurted, sliding into the seat across from William.
He lifted his brown eyes to me, wide with surprise, presumably at my sudden appearance, and then finished taking the sip or gulp of his drink.
It was lunch on Wednesday. William had left a message for me to meet him at a pub across the street from the complex. I had no chance to apologize the night before, since roping him in to playing my pretend boyfriend.
After making my false announcement, I’d left. I’d gone home and tucked Patrick into bed. And then I’d lain awake half the night fretting, growing angrier at Bryan, because how dare he!
And yet, every time I closed my eyes I saw him in his housecoat, clutching his mint tea. Or I saw him with his head thrown back, laughing at my embarrassing story. Or I saw him in the park, when he’d first set eyes on Patrick.
Or I felt his hot breath falling over my shoulder, the slide of his finger on my throat, the aching brand of his lips against my skin.
Crackers.
Presently, swallowing his gulp of water, William gave me a small—very small—smile, and asked, “Why are you sorry?”
I stared at him, shaking my head, not knowing where to begin and finally settled on, “For this. For lying. For forcing you into going out with me for lunch.”
“You didn’t force me. Lunch was my idea.”
I shook my head, pushing the menu to the side and folding my hands on the tabletop. “William, I am so sorry. I’m—I don’t even know where to start. I’m just so sorry. I’m a hot mess and I dragged you into my messiness, and Bryan—”
“Bryan is your son’s father.” William placed his hand over mine.
I closed my eyes, letting my chin drop to my chest and gave him a half-hearted nod. “How did you know?”
“He told me.”
My head shot up. “He what?”
William nodded. “We’re roommates.”
“He told you?”
“Yeah. This morning on the way in. We ride together sometimes.”
I exhaled a disbelieving breath, my eyes moving unseeingly to a spot over William’s shoulder. “I can’t believe he told you.”
The big man cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to him. His expression was patient and kind as he said in his quiet way, “I was going to ask you out.”
“You-you what?”
“I was planning to ask you out,” he said simply, honestly, openly, a rumbly straightforward confession. “I don’t want you to think this,” he motioned between the two of us, “is a hardship for me. You’re lovely. And genuine and kind. I like you. A lot.”
. . . dun dun DUN!
I gaped at him, unable to do anything else. I was not prepared for this.
I was prepared for his irritation. I was prepared to apologize profusely. But I was not prepared for this.
WHY MUST THESE MEN CATCH ME SO UNPREPARED???
His eyes darted to my lips, and his curved to one side, just subtly. “You’re more than lovely. You’re beautiful. But you already know that.”
“William, I . . .” I shook my head. What is going on?
“I wanted to tell you. You have no reason to apologize,” he finished gently, his brown eyes now striking me as remarkably soulful.
So I stared at William Moore. I really, really looked at him.
He was good and honorable, hardworking and ethical. I knew this to be true. The guys on the team respected and admired him, as did the administrative and coaching staff. And clearly he was brave, fluent in emotional maturity.
William would make a great father, the thought popped into my head before I knew I was thinking it—unbidden, honest—followed immediately by another thought, equally unbidden. But William is not who you want.
I gave him a warm smile that I hoped reached my eyes, flipping my hand over and twisting our fingers together. “You are a remarkable person, William Moore.”
