The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 7
Now I smirked, my attention moving back to her eyes. So lovely.
“Sir?”
She stared at my shirt collar. “I don’t know you.”
“Don’t you?” Not to sound egotistical, but everyone here knew me. Sometimes for the wrong reasons.
Okay, usually for the wrong reasons.
Her eyes met mine again, and damn, something in them knocked me off guard for a second. A weird feeling of déjà vu hit me as I blurted, “Have we met before?”
Her expression gave nothing away, her face a palette of indifference, which again made me wonder if I was barking up a tree I’d already visited. Because honestly, I couldn’t imagine a situation involving alcohol and me where I wouldn’t have tried to bed a woman who looked like this one. Trouble was, there were huge chunks of my memory missing. Like poof, completely gone.
Thanks, Smirnoff.
“If we did meet and you don’t remember, I can safely s-s-say it’s not worth us talking now,” she said with a haughty chuckle.
I really liked her voice. There was a queenly calm to it, even if she was visibly nervous. I decided she was right; we obviously hadn’t met before. In spite of my old tendency to black out, I didn’t think there was any alcohol strong enough to make me forget this beauty, and if I did, I didn’t deserve to remember her.
“Fair enough,” I said and tried to think of a way to prolong the encounter. Which, of course, was a bad idea, but there was something about her that made me feel this sense of urgency. This need to know her before she disappeared and I never saw her again.
I shuffled a step closer, feeling strangely compelled to do so, and caught a stronger waft of her perfume. Maybe it was the watermelon, or maybe it was just her, but for whatever reason I was struck with the need to lick and taste.
She didn’t speak, but her lips formed a tight line, which made me think I was probably coming on a bit too strong. I cleared my throat and stepped back. A moment of awkwardness fell between us.
“So, you having a good time?”
Christ, I was so out of practice talking to women. She gave a little shrug, and I got the sense that she really didn’t want to talk to me. It was weird, but it didn’t deter me from keeping her there.
“Sure.”
I laughed warmly. “You’re hating it, then?”
At this she appeared surprised. She blinked a few times and shook her head. “I just don’t go to stuff like this very often. I’m more of a homebody.”
“Yeah, me too. I’d much rather be home catching up on my Netflix addiction.”
She gave me a look of suspicion. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Why so skeptical?”
She shrugged lightly, looked to the side and then back to me. God, her eyes were gorgeous. “You just d-d-don’t s-strike me as the t-t-type.”
I noticed how she stuttered and wondered if it was a permanent thing or if I just made her anxious. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and frowned severely, appearing frustrated.
“Once upon a time you would’ve been dead-on with that statement,” I tilted my head, considering, “but not anymore.”
She stared at me for a long time, longer than warranted, and for the life of me I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Maybe she was just an odd bird.
Eventually, she blinked as though shaking herself. She cast her gaze to the floor and gestured to the bathrooms over my shoulder. “Yes, well, if you don’t mind. I need to go visit the ladies’ room.”
I unfolded my arms and nodded numbly as she moved by me, not giving me another look. I caught myself swaying in her direction as she passed, fighting the urge to grab her wrist.
Huh.
It wasn’t that I thought I was the prize of the century or anything, but generally speaking, when I made the effort to chat up a woman, they were a lot more receptive than Red had just been.
Maybe I’m getting old, losing my touch . . .
Now there was a sobering thought.
I glared at the bathroom door and decided I wouldn’t be that bloke who hovered outside of the ladies’ like a nutcase. Clearly, my conversation and company were unwelcome.
With a frustrated sigh, I left the corridor and went back to the party, finding a few of the lads from the team and shooting the breeze for a bit.
Wouldn’t you know, the first woman to catch my interest in years would rather hide in the loo than spend another minute in my company. Regardless, for the first time in over a year, I was actually thinking about watering my house plants.
Sometime later, after marinating in my bad luck for at least a full hour, our coach approached me. His name was also Bryan, except he spelled it “Brian.” This was Ireland. The name was about as common as Pierre in France, or Mohammed in Saudi Arabia.
“Let me introduce you to our new physio intern,” he said, leading me across the room. “She recently graduated from university in the States and comes highly recommended. She’ll be working under Connors for the next couple of months.”
“Really? I thought Connors was getting the sack.”
Brian shook his head. “No, he’s staying put. I know he’s not exactly the most popular with you and the lads, but he’s the general manager’s cousin, and he knows his stuff.”
“I just wish he’d use deodorant every once in a while.”
Brian chuckled. “That’s you and me both, son.”
We approached a small group and the first person I saw was Sean Cassidy. Beside him was Lucy, his girlfriend and Ronan Fitzpatrick’s younger sister. The final person my eyes landed on was again familiar, Gorgeous Red. I felt my mouth begin to curve into an unbidden smile as our eyes clashed. I quickly wiped my expression. She was stiff as Brian introduced us.
“Sir?”
She stared at my shirt collar. “I don’t know you.”
“Don’t you?” Not to sound egotistical, but everyone here knew me. Sometimes for the wrong reasons.
Okay, usually for the wrong reasons.
Her eyes met mine again, and damn, something in them knocked me off guard for a second. A weird feeling of déjà vu hit me as I blurted, “Have we met before?”
Her expression gave nothing away, her face a palette of indifference, which again made me wonder if I was barking up a tree I’d already visited. Because honestly, I couldn’t imagine a situation involving alcohol and me where I wouldn’t have tried to bed a woman who looked like this one. Trouble was, there were huge chunks of my memory missing. Like poof, completely gone.
Thanks, Smirnoff.
“If we did meet and you don’t remember, I can safely s-s-say it’s not worth us talking now,” she said with a haughty chuckle.
I really liked her voice. There was a queenly calm to it, even if she was visibly nervous. I decided she was right; we obviously hadn’t met before. In spite of my old tendency to black out, I didn’t think there was any alcohol strong enough to make me forget this beauty, and if I did, I didn’t deserve to remember her.
“Fair enough,” I said and tried to think of a way to prolong the encounter. Which, of course, was a bad idea, but there was something about her that made me feel this sense of urgency. This need to know her before she disappeared and I never saw her again.
I shuffled a step closer, feeling strangely compelled to do so, and caught a stronger waft of her perfume. Maybe it was the watermelon, or maybe it was just her, but for whatever reason I was struck with the need to lick and taste.
She didn’t speak, but her lips formed a tight line, which made me think I was probably coming on a bit too strong. I cleared my throat and stepped back. A moment of awkwardness fell between us.
“So, you having a good time?”
Christ, I was so out of practice talking to women. She gave a little shrug, and I got the sense that she really didn’t want to talk to me. It was weird, but it didn’t deter me from keeping her there.
“Sure.”
I laughed warmly. “You’re hating it, then?”
At this she appeared surprised. She blinked a few times and shook her head. “I just don’t go to stuff like this very often. I’m more of a homebody.”
“Yeah, me too. I’d much rather be home catching up on my Netflix addiction.”
She gave me a look of suspicion. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Why so skeptical?”
She shrugged lightly, looked to the side and then back to me. God, her eyes were gorgeous. “You just d-d-don’t s-strike me as the t-t-type.”
I noticed how she stuttered and wondered if it was a permanent thing or if I just made her anxious. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and frowned severely, appearing frustrated.
“Once upon a time you would’ve been dead-on with that statement,” I tilted my head, considering, “but not anymore.”
She stared at me for a long time, longer than warranted, and for the life of me I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Maybe she was just an odd bird.
Eventually, she blinked as though shaking herself. She cast her gaze to the floor and gestured to the bathrooms over my shoulder. “Yes, well, if you don’t mind. I need to go visit the ladies’ room.”
I unfolded my arms and nodded numbly as she moved by me, not giving me another look. I caught myself swaying in her direction as she passed, fighting the urge to grab her wrist.
Huh.
It wasn’t that I thought I was the prize of the century or anything, but generally speaking, when I made the effort to chat up a woman, they were a lot more receptive than Red had just been.
Maybe I’m getting old, losing my touch . . .
Now there was a sobering thought.
I glared at the bathroom door and decided I wouldn’t be that bloke who hovered outside of the ladies’ like a nutcase. Clearly, my conversation and company were unwelcome.
With a frustrated sigh, I left the corridor and went back to the party, finding a few of the lads from the team and shooting the breeze for a bit.
Wouldn’t you know, the first woman to catch my interest in years would rather hide in the loo than spend another minute in my company. Regardless, for the first time in over a year, I was actually thinking about watering my house plants.
Sometime later, after marinating in my bad luck for at least a full hour, our coach approached me. His name was also Bryan, except he spelled it “Brian.” This was Ireland. The name was about as common as Pierre in France, or Mohammed in Saudi Arabia.
“Let me introduce you to our new physio intern,” he said, leading me across the room. “She recently graduated from university in the States and comes highly recommended. She’ll be working under Connors for the next couple of months.”
“Really? I thought Connors was getting the sack.”
Brian shook his head. “No, he’s staying put. I know he’s not exactly the most popular with you and the lads, but he’s the general manager’s cousin, and he knows his stuff.”
“I just wish he’d use deodorant every once in a while.”
Brian chuckled. “That’s you and me both, son.”
We approached a small group and the first person I saw was Sean Cassidy. Beside him was Lucy, his girlfriend and Ronan Fitzpatrick’s younger sister. The final person my eyes landed on was again familiar, Gorgeous Red. I felt my mouth begin to curve into an unbidden smile as our eyes clashed. I quickly wiped my expression. She was stiff as Brian introduced us.
