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“So, you ready to go?” Dean asks me, and I gawk at him.
“Go where?”
The muscles on his broad shoulders ripple as he moves the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder and across his body.
“I just came to give you your shirt back.”
“That’s nice of you,” he says then looks at my purse and my cheeks burn. I don’t actually have it with me. I just said that to make it difficult for him.
“So?” he asks and another breeze goes by, sending goosebumps up my arm. It’s colder in the evening and especially in the shadows.
“So what?”
“The shirt?” he asks then adds, “Really, it’s for you to hold on to until I can get you a new one.”
I shrug off the chill. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, though. You all right with that?” he asks like it’s a dare and my heart skips a beat as I’m caught in his heated gaze. He traps me so easily.
Luckily, I’m saved by his next comment.
“I like being with you for some reason.” It’s a backhanded compliment. He’s such an asshole. But such a good-looking, playful one.
“Yeah, well, you’re an asshole jock and jocks aren’t my thing,” I tell him back just as dismissively. Both of us are smiling, though. This is what I like about him.
“I’m not a jock.”
I wait for him to comment on the asshole part and when he doesn’t, I let out a small laugh.
Rolling my eyes, I wrap my arms around my chest as a gust blows my hair off my shoulder. Dean looks up and it’s as if that’s the cue for the sky to visibly darken.
“So, where do you want to go?” he asks.
“I’m not sure that’s smart.”
“It’s just a date.”
“I don’t think we should date. I don’t really do dating.” My gaze falls to his chest, moves to his shoes then continues to the ground as I feel the truth of why I even bothered to go against my gut and show up to the field today. I push the hair back from my face as the breeze picks up and wish I’d worn a thicker coat.
The sound of Dean rustling in his duffle bag gets my attention, and he pulls out a jacket then hands it out to me. “Put it on,” he tells me and it’s clearly a command. Like a good girl, I reach out for it, but then feel ridiculous and pathetic and drop my hand before I grab it.
“Dean, I’m not good for you.” I push out the words even though they hurt, even though they make me feel worse than just playing along.
“You’re cute, Allie Cat, but that ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit isn’t going to work on me. I’m too used to being pushed away,” he tells me, and I watch his expression shift as he realizes what he’s said. He’s used to being pushed away. I’d just be one more asshole doing the same.
“Come on, take it,” he urges, shaking the jacket and the memory of last night forces me to take it.
I’m silent as I put it on. Fuck. Shit. Dammit. I hate this. I hate that I started this.
“So, date,” Dean says as he grips the strap with both of his hands and watches me slip on his jacket. It’s oddly warm for being so thin. “Where are we going?” he asks.
I roll my eyes and tell him, “I don’t date.”
“Just fucking then,” he says, nodding his head. “Your place or mine?” he asks with a cocky grin.
“I’m not here just so you can get in my pants,” I say, trying desperately to clear my head and figure out what the hell I’m doing.
“Then why’d you come?” he asks me.
