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And it only got worse from there. As I sat there silently freaking out on my end of the line, Bryce went on to proclaim he’s not looking for an “easy” woman, like all the girls who throw themselves at him, day in and out, but, instead, wants a faithful, loyal girl who’ll “support him religiously” through the NFL draft and beyond. Someone he can trust. Someone he can lean on. Someone who’ll love him, unconditionally, and not care about all the money and fame coming his way. All of which I thought was a bit much to say during our first phone conversation. I mean, come on, is it really so wrong for a young, horny girl to want a smoking hot guy for nothing but his dazzling smile and hot body?
But Bryce had more bombs to drop during that crazy-ass phone call. As I sat in stunned silence, thinking maybe I was being punked, he asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight, Georgie?
“Uh, no,” I replied honestly, my insides knotting at how badly I’d misjudged him. “Why? Do you?” Obviously, I shouldn’t have said that last part. Indeed, the moment my question left my lips, I knew I’d messed up.
“Not before I met you,” Bryce replied. And I swear I threw up, just a little bit, into my mouth. Just like that, the lady-boner I’d had for Bryce McKellar at the coffee place sagged to my knees, and I couldn’t get off the call fast enough.
I knew in that moment I’d have to come clean with Bryce and confess I’m not the future wife he thinks I am. That, in fact, at this particular stage of my life, I’m probably closer to the “easy women” who throw themselves at him, thanks to the past couple of years that have left me emotionally drained and determined to fly solo for a while. But right then, I was too stunned to make that particular speech to Bryce. And so, I got off the phone without saying any of it—and also without confirming any plans to “connect” with him any time soon.
But now, Bryce is here. Holding my shoulders so I don’t crumple to the ground after bouncing off his hard chest. And, this time, I can’t simply hang up my phone to avoid him.
“Bryce,” I gasp out, teetering in his firm grasp.
“Are you okay?” he replies, chuckling.
“Yeah. Sorry. I was running.”
“I could see that.” He grins. “I was just about to text you, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? Wow. Hang on.” I pick my phone up off the ground—noting, thankfully, that the screen didn’t crack upon impact—and breathlessly tell my stepsister I’ve got to call her back.
“Did you say Bryce?” Alessandra says.
“I did.”
“As in, Mr. Football?”
“Correct.”
“Only pretend to hang up. I want to listen in.”
“Okay, bye.”
As instructed, I pretend to disconnect the call, and return to Bryce, my stomach churning and my mind racing.
Bryce says, “I was going to text and ask what you’re doing tonight.”
“Sorry, I’m working at the bar until about two thirty.”
“Hey, that works for me,” he says. “I’m a night owl.”
Shit. Fuck. “I can’t. I’ve got class on Friday mornings, so I always race home after my Thursday-night shift to catch a few hours of sleep.” I look at my watch. “Shoot. I’m running late for an event in North Campus. Gotta go!” And off I go, resolved to call Bryce tomorrow to tell him the truth: I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m not looking to support any guy’s dreams “religiously” or otherwise at this particular time. In summary, I’m just not feeling it.
The moment I’m out of earshot of Bryce, I bring my phone to my ear. “Ally?”
Alessandra laughs. “Coward.”
“I know. I’ll call him tomorrow and set him straight.”
“You realize you’re the only girl at UCLA who’d ever turn that boy down, right?”
“Dude, he’s looking for a freaking wife.”
“Running away all the time, you’re only going to make him want you more. I’m sure he’s used to girls throwing themselves at him.”
“Oh, he is. And they can have him. He’s way too big a momma’s boy for me.”
“Oh, the horror. A genuinely nice guy.”
“You know what I mean. I’m still in my bad-boy phase, as I should be. It’s what’s going to make me ready for Mr. Right whenever he finally comes along in six point five years.”
“I’m shocked you don’t want to give Bryce a quick test drive before you cut him loose. Even if he’s a Cling-On, why not at least hit that hard body hard before turning him away? He’s panty-melting, Georgie. I looked him up after you told me about him, and almost had a stroke at his hotness.”
“I know. If only he’d played it the least bit cool with me, the way he did at the coffee place that first time, I would have been hitting that hard body hard as early as this week. As it is, I can’t run away fast enough.” I sigh audibly at the heartbreaking situation. “Now, what were we talking about before I bumped into Mr. Love at First Sight?”
