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"Friday works. And on Saturday we're on with Lucas's training?"
"If you're still up for it."
"I am."
"You're great for doing this." The more I think about it, the more I appreciate his gesture. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's one of the reasons why I smile like a lunatic every time I think about him. "I wanted to help him, but I'm no good at soccer. I could teach him shenanigans galore, but he's a bit too young for that."
"What kind of shenanigans?"
"Oh, sneaking out through the window when he's grounded, things like that."
"You do know you're the one who’s supposed to be the one grounding him, right?"
"Shucks, you're right. Conflict of interest."
That’s another role I've been thrust into that I'm not really fit for—being a parent. I love being the kids' sister, but joking aside, I often lie awake late at night, wondering if I'm parenting them the right way. I wish parenting came with a set of instructions.
"You sound like me. When my younger brothers turned fourteen, the first thing that occurred to me was that I had to teach them how to flirt. Weirdly enough, when my sister was born, the only thing I could think about was to protect her from any guy in existence. Feel free to call me out for being sexist or having double standards."
Adorable is what I want to call him, but I smartly remain silent. I rise to my feet, pacing the living room, suddenly filled with too much energy to stay put. Who is this man, and why do I feel like I could talk to him forever?
"I knew I couldn't be the only weirdo who wanted to pass on hard-earned knowledge," I reply.
"We weirdos have to stick together."
My stomach flutters at the word “together.”
"In fact, you know what? I can teach him some shenanigans on Saturday," he offers. "I assure you I'm on top of my game."
"I have no doubt." Without realizing, I add, "Why are you so nice to us?"
Silence hangs in the air for a few seconds. When he finally speaks, his voice is gentle. "My sisters told me you lost your parents. I can't even begin to imagine how hard that is. Spending a few hours with Lucas and giving him feedback isn't an effort for me, but it looks like it's a big thing for him."
"It is. For me too. Thank you. See you on Friday."
"Don't forget you promised to make the time worthwhile," he teases, and my skin instantly heats up, even more so as I recall the thinly disguised flirting that followed my statement the last time I saw him.
"Victoria?" His voice is a notch huskier and music to my ears. I have a hunch he and I are thinking about the same thing.
"Yeah?"
"We could dance around this some more, but considering we can barely keep from flirting whenever we're in the same room—sometimes even on the phone—I think it'd be smart to admit we're attra
cted to each other."
Wow. I wonder if I'll ever know what will come out of this man's mouth next.
"Are you always so direct?" I ask him, trying to ignore the way my heart seems to have skipped a beat.
"I try to be."
"I have no idea how to continue this conversation," I tell him honestly, wishing I could carve a hole in the ground and disappear into it.
"Well, this would be an appropriate time to tell me that you have a lover, one who is very jealous and possessive."
"You gave this imaginary lover so much thought already."
"Imaginary?"
