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As the evening progresses, it becomes painfully obvious I have nothing in common with these guys anymore. Meeting up with them seemed like a great idea when they called to let me know they'd be in San Francisco, but now I'm about to poke my eyes out. I could have done a million other things instead, like go to the gym, or meet people I actually have things in common with.
I could’ve stopped by at Victoria's house. Over the last two weeks, I've done that a few evenings, helping Lucas get ready for tryouts. Things between Victoria and me have moved beyond sassy banter to something else. No clue how to describe it, but I want more of it. I want her, and not just for one night. Victoria has gotten under my skin like no woman has in years, and that's dangerous. I got burned before, and I have no desire to go down that road again.
But Victoria’s throaty laughter is addictive, and there’s a sweetness to her that I can't get enough of. Spending time with her and her trio of misfits has become one of my favorite activities.
Far be it from me to admit Blake is right, but he might have a point. That Bennettitis virus must be airborne.
Chapter Twelve
Victoria
Four o'clock on Wednesday afternoon finds me in my car, waiting outside Lucas's school. He’s having tryouts right now, and I was supposed to pick him up at five. I tried to busy myself, but excitement got the better of me, and I arrived one hour too early. Lucas forbade me from attending tryouts. I think he was afraid I'd embarrass him, either by kissing his cheek the first chance I got or shouting inappropriate encouragements from the sidelines. I've been known to do both in the past, so I don't blame him.
Drumming my fingers on the wheel, I turn the volume of the music louder, trying to fill the space and drown my anxiety from hoping he'll succeed. I have contingency plans in the works. If he made the team, we're going to pick up Sienna and Chloe and head to our favorite restaurant to eat cheesecake and celebrate. If he didn't make the team, I'm taking him for consolation cheesecake by myself. Lucas doesn't like company when he's upset, but the great thing about cake? It cheers you up no matter what.
Glancing at the clock, I groan, realizing I still have fifty-five minutes to wait. Right, this is going to be a long hour. I could whip out my laptop and work on a decoration plan for a new client, but something tells me I won't be able to concentrate. An angry whirl of leaves slams against my windshield, startling me. A gust of wind carries them away, clearing my view. Seconds later yet another gust blows, ripping more gold and copper leaves from the trees, their frail and brittle stems giving away. Rolling down the window, I inhale deeply, greedy for the autumn air. I love the smell of autumn—rich, earthy, and crisp—but not cold enough to pinch my nose.
After rolling it back up, I pull my e-reader from my bag. I sometimes carry it with me. A girl must always be prepared; you never know when you might have a few minutes to kill, and reading has the magic power of instantly relaxing me.
A few minutes later, I'm entranced in my book. So entranced that I jump in my seat when my phone chimes with an incoming message.
Christopher: How are tryouts going?
Frowning at the screen, I try to remember when I shared with him that tryouts had been rescheduled from Thursday to Wednesday, but I don't think I did.
Victoria: No idea. How do you know they're happening now?
My phone lights up with an incoming call this time, and I don't hesitate to pick up.
"Lucas told me," Christopher says instead of hello, and I swear the sound of his voice is the best thing I've heard all day. My muscles instantly liquefy, the tension gathered throughout the day melting. This is even better than reading.
"I didn't know he had your number. Maybe he snuck into my phone to steal it."
"Why do you sound so hopeful about that?"
"It would be a sign he's back to his prankster self. He's been very serious since… you know…." Placing the e-reader on the passenger seat, I add, "One of our things was that he'd try to guess the password on my phone. I changed it every time I visited my parents’ house."
"I hate to disappoint you, but we exchanged numbers. We’ve talked a few times, and I gave him some more pointers. It was more of a pep talk, to be honest."
"Thank you," I say, truly touched. I'm also surprised he didn't mention this during our numerous calls and messages this past week. But I'm starting to understand that Christopher doesn't do things expecting payment, or even acknowledgment. He’s genuinely a good person.
"How come you're not at tryouts?" he asks.
"Ha! I'm in my car, in front of the school. I’ve been denied access to the gym."
"You're one of those ubersupportive
people who shout their head off the entire time, aren't you?"
"Yep. It makes it even more embarrassing that I have no idea what I'm shouting about."
"Bet you're precious."
"I think the word you're looking for is annoying."
"Nope. Sticking with precious. Still, I can't believe you were hoping he'd hacked into your phone."
"Well, it's not like I have anything to hide," I say, drumming the fingers of my free hand on the wheel, glancing at the clock.
