A laugh bubbled up and out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Tolliver smiled. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Ah come on, it's the first time I made Freya Kent laugh. If you don't tell me, I'll have to assume it means you like me."
My frown was instant. "I don't like you."
"Ouch, say it a little quicker next time," he mumbled.
Rolling my eyes, I added, "I laughed because when you talked about your brother it was the first time you sounded rude."
"And that's funny?"
"To me, yeah."
"Then you'd love my chirping."
"Huh?"
"Trash talk," he clarified. "I excel at that in games."
"You mean hockey?"
He nodded.
"Alright, well since sports have entered the chat, I’ll take that as my cue to exit," I said, starting to turn around. "Thanks for theflowers, Tolliver. You got here a little late, but you fulfilled your promise. It was good knowing you."
"Freya..."
If his soft voice didn't stop me, the strong hand gently holding my arm would.
Looking back, I said, "Hmmm?"
"I haven’t kept my promise yet."
"What?"
"I’ll be back tomorrow," he said.
"You really don’t have to do that," I said, unable to think clearly while he was touching me. Obviously, I should’ve put more bite behind my words because Tolliver’s smile didn’t dim. In fact, he looked even more determined.
"I know I don’t have to. I want to."
As his hand traveled down my forearm, fingers softly encircling my wrist with the lightest of touches, I felt my heart race.
It had to be a bad sign.
I needed to squash this. Immediately.
"Don’t come back," I said, firmly this time, and took a step away. My heart was sad, watching his hand fall, but my brain, the smarter part of my anatomy, was relieved. "I don’t like people, especially athletes. So yeah, don’t come back."
"But I want to help you," he said.
"With what?"
"Anything you need."
