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It’s a relief when the server turns out to be a dude. The last thing I need is more women fawning over me in front of her. Normally, I eat that kind of thing up. The more the merrier has always been my motto.
But with Lola?
I don’t feel that way. I wish people would just leave me alone so I could focus my attention on her without interruption.
“Can we get two waters and a bruschetta as an appetizer?” I ask.
“Of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your drinks and to take your order.”
“Thanks.” My gaze stays pinned to the girl across from me.
Once our drinks and appetizer have been dropped off, and our orders placed—spaghetti bolognese for me and chicken alfredo for her—I say, “So, tell me what Tony wanted.”
Any light shining in her eyes vanishes as the edges of her lips wilt.
For a long moment, her gaze flits around the restaurant. Just when I think she’ll leave me hanging, she clears her throat. “He has two kids with his second wife, and one of them needs a kidney transplant.”
It takes a few seconds for her words to fully sink in. When they do, I lean forward, closing as much distance between us as the table will allow. Even though I try to keep my voice level, shock colors it. “Are you telling me that he wants you to donate one of your kidneys?”
No fucking way.
Her teeth sink into her lower lip before she jerks her head into a tight nod.
“What did you tell him?” It’s almost inconceivable that after not bothering with her for years, he crawled out of the woodwork for the sole purpose of asking her for an organ.
“What was I supposed to say?”
“No.” A mixture of anger and outrage vibrates in my voice. “You should have straight up said no.”
Her shoulders sink as she drops her eyes for a second time. “How could I do that? I told him that I’d think about it.”
My jaw stiffens. It’s only when my teeth begin to ache that I realize how hard I’m clenching them. The need to touch her thrums through me as I reach across the table and lay my hand over her smaller one. Her gaze drops in surprise to where we’re now connected before lifting to mine. Part of me expects her to draw away and break the contact. When she doesn’t, I squeeze her fingers.
Even though we don’t know each other well, I want her to know that she’s not alone. It takes a few heartbeats for the thick tension filling her muscles to gradually dissipate.
“You’re not obligated to do anything.” There’s a pause. “You know that, right?”
She nibbles at her lower lip as confusion flickers across her expression. “It kind of feels like I am.”
“From what you’ve told me, they’re strangers. Have you even met this kid?”
“Kylie,” she says.
“Have you even met her?” I ask again.
“No.”
Another burst of anger detonates inside me, and it takes effort to tamp it down so it doesn’t bubble over. That’s not what she needs right now. “It’s unfair that he put you in this position.”
“Does it even matter?” she whispers.
It should, but I have no idea if it does.
Only wanting to offer comfort, I say, “Whatever you decide will be the right choice.”
She draws in an unsteady breath before looking away. “I wish I could believe that.”
When my fingers tighten around hers, our gazes lock and something undefinable passes between us. Something I’ve never experienced before. I’m not sure what to make of it.
All I know is that I want more.
15
LOLA
I stare sightlessly out the passenger window at the scenery that flies by in the darkness as we return to campus. Instead of filling the silence with idle chitchat, we’re both quiet, each lost in our own private thoughts. Mine keep circling back to the conversation with Tony. It feels like a bomb has been dropped in the middle of my life and my ears are still ringing from the force of it. As of yet, I haven’t regained my equilibrium. It's doubtful I ever will.
The warmth of his fingers covering mine is what pulls me out of those tangled thoughts. I stare at our clasped hands in confusion. It’s a strange sight. Almost surreal. Two weeks ago, standard operating procedure had been to bare my teeth every time I had the sad misfortune of running into Asher. His golden boy status on campus, easy disposition, and confident charm rubbed me the wrong way and set my nerves on edge. Every time I caught sight of the guy, yet another female—or more—were clinging to his brawny form, just waiting for him to give the word so they could fall onto their backs and spread their legs wide.
It doesn’t make sense that he’s now holding my hand, offering both comfort and support. Not in a million years did I see this coming. What makes even less sense is that I actually like the way his fingers feel wrapped around mine. Strangely enough, I don’t feel so alone.
