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“No games. I’ve just moved on.” She gives him a grin. “Haven’t you?”
He works his jaw, trying to force a smile that doesn’t quite work. “Watch out,” he tells me. “She’ll leave you high and dry, she’s such a —”
“A what?” I say pleasantly. “Can’t hear you.”
Darryl thinks about saying it, he really does. I can see the gears working in his slimy little brain, wondering if the satisfaction of calling Bex a nasty word will be worth the pain of my threat. I stand my ground, well aware of how our teammates are staring. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Seb slide over to Cooper. The two of them are ready to jump into action to defend me if this turns into a fight.
“Let’s go,” Darryl eventually mutters to a couple of his buddies.
One of them—a safety I haven’t interacted with much yet—gives me a sneer as he goes, “Watch it, Callahan. Coach Gomez might’ve gone out of his way to bring you here, but you’re not untouchable.”
“Aw,” I say. “Is that your crappy attempt at shit talking? No wonder Notre Dame ran all over you today.”
He scoffs, but at Darryl’s look, leaves instead of retaliating.
The tension seeps out of me once they’re gone. Bex’s hand goes limp in mine, too; I hadn’t even noticed how tightly she was holding on until I rub the blood back into it.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make things even more awkward.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is it, though?” She’s whispering now, glancing over her shoulder at everyone who stayed. “I can’t fuck up the team for you.”
“I already told him that if he disrespected a woman—you included—I’d stop throwing to him. They know that.” I lead her over to the table Darryl just left, sitting down. It takes her a moment, but she decides to perch on my lap. I steady her with a hand on her knee, fighting the smile that threatens to overwhelm my face. I have a feeling that being around Bex means always being surprised.
“When?” she asks.
“Before I even knew who you were. He was talking shit about you at that party.”
Her eyes widen. “Before I kissed you?”
Coop and Seb settle into the two other chairs at the table. I raise an eyebrow at them, but they just share a grim glance.
“Bro,” Seb says. “What the fuck is going on?”
Chapter 13
James
When I walk into the classroom—a full fifteen minutes early, thank you very much, Mr. Professor—I see immediately that I managed to get there before Bex. Score. Every other class meeting so far, she’s been there ahead of time, her laptop already open, scribbling in her planner with one of her cute gel pens. But today, I get to have a moment alone at our table before facing her.
Pretending to date her has made this class easier and harder all at once. On the one hand, it’s easier, since she’s holding up her end of the deal with tutoring. But on the other hand, it’s way more difficult, since I’m drawn to her like a candle to a box of fucking matches, apparently, and sitting next to her for over an hour while being expected to pay attention to something boring like essay writing is cruel and unusual punishment. I’ve given up fighting my attraction to her. Attraction is fine; it’s safe. So what if I acknowledge she’s gorgeous and I’d love nothing more than to sleep with her? It’s the feelings I need to watch out for. That’s what got me in trouble with Sara.
I set the two coffees down on the table and slide my backpack off my shoulder. I’ve been to the Purple Kettle a bunch of times, mostly to see if I can catch a few moments of conversation with Bex, and I figured out that she likes her coffee iced with two pumps of caramel syrup, so I got that along with a black icedcoffee for myself. On impulse, I went ahead and bought her a pumpkin muffin, too. Something tells me she’s the sort of girl who gets excited about all the pumpkin-related products that pop up during the fall.
The class starts to filter in. A bunch of girls stare at me, but they always do, so I ignore them. They’ve been straight up glaring at Bex—I guess the news of our “relationship” is making the rounds—but she doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe if this was real, I’d want her to be more possessive, but as it stands, I’m relieved. If anything, I’m more worried about this snowballing into something I’m not ready for emotionally formethan for her.
She walks in with just a couple minutes to go, and she’s on the phone with someone. Her mouth is taut as she whispers into the phone. She gives our professor an apologetic look as she slips past him to her seat.
“Yeah,” she’s saying. “Just tell him I’ll figure out a way to pay for it later. I’ll move some money around.”
Her eyes widen adorably as she takes in the surprise I left on her side of the table.Thank you, she mouths as she sits down. I hide my smile as I sip my coffee.
“Got you. Yep. Thanks.” She slides her phone into her bag, then takes a sip of coffee.
“You know my coffee order?”
I shrug. “I just picked up on it.”
