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Wrong. Jamie clenched his glass, a breath away from butting in and telling her he’d be her practice partner.
Right as he was about to insinuate himself in her conversation, a young woman walked up to the bar, leaning on the counter on the other side of Erik. She had reddish-blond hair and milkmaid skin, barely on display in the demure summer top she wore. She flashed Erik a smile, one that was more than friendly—a clear invitation to say hello to her.
Didier leaned back, like he was relaxing, but Jamie knew it was to give Erik space to talk to the girl. They both lifted their drinks, unobtrusively listening, waiting for Erik to say hello to her.
Silence stretched.
Unable to help himself, Jamie glanced over. Erik stared straight forward, a tight grip on his beer. Frowning, Jamie shot Didier a questioning look.
His friend shrugged, looking as perplexed as Jamie felt. Casually, Didier shifted on his barstool, inconspicuously nudging the kid.
Erik barely moved, looking even more blank if that was possible. The only sign of life was the blush that pinkened his tanned skin.
The girl stared at Erik, her smile slowly fading into confusion. She valiantly tried to bolster it, but it fell short. Fortunately, Chris came over to take her drink order. She waited quietly, scurrying away the second the bartender handed her the drink.
Jamie ran a hand through his hair. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Erik didn’t really want to meet a girl. Except he knew that Erik said what he meant, so there was something more at play here.
Before he could ponder that further, the siren next to him slid off her seat, brushing him with her arm. He turned to her, on alert.
“Sorry.” His siren gave him an apologetic smile, but her gaze lingered on his face longer than warranted, the interest evident in her cloudy sky eyes.
“I’m not,” he said, unable to stop looking at her naughty lips. They were made for kisses—receiving and giving.
Her eyes widened as if she could read his wicked thoughts. Cheeks flushed, she turned her back as she wiggled into her jacket.
He read her body language the way anyone else would read a book: it told him that while she found him attractive, she wasn’t going to go there. He sat back. The question was, what did he want to do about it? He was here for Erik, but when opportunity presented itself, you had to go for it. And he wasn’t a stupid man. He knew a woman like this didn’t come along every day.
“Thanks, Chris,” she called out, picking up her gigantic purse. “See you Sunday.”
The man nodded, but he only had eyes for her blond friend, who was also getting up. The blonde murmured her thanks, more reserved, and followed the siren out.
Jamie turned to watch them—really, the siren—leave the bar, that curl at the nape of her neck taunting him. He felt a surge of satisfaction when at the door she turned around and gave him one last look before she walked out.
When he turned around, he saw Chris doing the same thing, though his attention was rapt on the blonde.
He’d find out about that, but first…
Jamie leaned across Didier and spoke softly. “Erik, you didn’t like that girl? She was pretty.”
Erik frowned at his beer. “I thought she didn’t like me.”
“Why would you think that?” he asked, confused.
The kid slumped. “She didn’t talk to me.”
He glanced at Didier, who shook his head. “She was waiting for you to make the first move,” Jamie said.
The unhappy confusion on Erik’s face grew. “But women always talk to me first.”
“Those aren’t women. Those are the users you’re trying to get away from. A lot of women are going to wait for you to talk to them first, especially if they’re shy or unconfident. They’re taught to let the man make the first move.” He frowned at Erik. The kid was young, but he should have known that from the girls he went out with before he’d started playing football. “How many girlfriends have you had?”
Blushing, Erik played with the edge of the coaster under his glass. “Do you mean how many girls have I had sex with?”
“No. Girlfriends.” When the look of confusion on his face intensified, Jamie said, “Girls that you’ve seen for a period of time, even if it wasn’t exclusive.”
“Zero.”
He and Didier exchanged a look. “Not even at school?” he asked.
