“Oh, just something with Ryan Reynolds,” I mumble, hoping he doesn’t ask any more questions. “It was pretty funny.” From the little I remember. How it ended is anybody’s guess.
“Sounds chill. Exactly what you needed after that dinner.”
I wince. “Yeah, it was.”
Until it wasn’t…
“I wish I could have been there with you.”
“Me, too.” I press my lips together as remorse eats away at my insides. I’m not a liar. I’ve never been particularly good at it. As much as I want to keep everything contained inside, I can’t. “Do you know who Crosby Rhodes is?”
The phone goes quiet as the atmosphere between us changes, becoming more tense. Is it just me, or does he feel it as well?
As I open my mouth to ask if he’s still there, he says, “Sure, I’ve seen him around.”
I release a steady breath and silently berate myself for bringing him up. I should have kept my big mouth shut. “He’s my ex’s roommate, so I’ve known him for a while. The entire time I was with Andrew, he was a raging asshole. The comments he would make were just plain mean and hurtful. It got to the point where I hated being in the same room with him and tried to avoid him as much as possible. The crazy part is that I have no idea what I did to make him dislike me so much.”
Another silence follows before he bites out, “The guy sounds like a real shithead.”
“Yeah.” I nibble on my lower lip before admitting, “I ran into him on campus last week. He apologized for being such a jerk and asked if we could start over.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It totally threw me for a loop.”
“Do you believe him?” he asks carefully. “Do you think he was being sincere?”
I turn the questions over in my head. I’ve thought about them a lot. “I guess so.” It takes effort to push out the rest. “I ran into him after dinner, and we started talking. One thing led to another, and I invited him up to watch a movie.”
Even though I haven’t come clean about everything that happened this evening, it’s enough to assuage some of the guilt eating at me.
“It went all right? He didn’t do anything to upset you?”
I blink, surprised he isn’t pissed off that I spent part of the night alone with another guy.
“Yeah, it was fine.”
“Good. I’m sure that helped you relax and get into a better headspace.”
Again, I’m pleasantly surprised by his nonchalant attitude. All the anxiety filling me drains away.
“Yeah, it did.”
“I’m glad he was able to do that for you.”
It’s tempting to pull the phone from my ear and stare at it in stunned amazement. How is this guy so understanding and emotionally mature?
If I thought I liked him before this conversation, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. I’m chalking up what happened with Crosby as a lapse in judgment. We kissed. It wasn’t a big deal. It was probably just a regular Wednesday night for him, anyway.
Except he didn’t get laid.
“You have an early class tomorrow, right?” he asks, drawing my attention back to the conversation.
“Yup. Bright and early at eight.” I glance at the clock on my nightstand and realize just how late it is.
“Then I should probably let you go so you can hit the sack.”
“Okay. Night, Chris.”
“Night, beautiful. Talk to you tomorrow.”
After hanging up, I set my phone on the nightstand before sliding beneath the sheets. Even though I don’t want to mentally rehash dinner with Mom, that’s exactly what I do. It takes twenty minutes of tossing and turning before I’m finally able to find sleep. When I do, my dreams are a strange tangle of two boys. One who is dark-haired and the other who’s murky. Sometime during the night, they end up melding into the same person.
22
CROSBY
With two cups of steaming coffee in my hands, I stroll up the walkway to Brooke’s apartment building. Just as I reach the door, a couple of junior football players walk out.
“Hey, Rhodes. What are you doing here?” one of them asks.
I shrug. “Visiting a friend.”
The mouthy one jabs his sidekick in the arm. “Doesn’t the walk of shame work the other way around? Shouldn’t you be going, not coming?”
I hike a brow and glare.
I don’t know who these two jokers think they are, but they better remember who they’re talking to. And that’s a fucking senior on the team. I’ll pummel their asses on the field without so much as a second thought.
When they finally realize that I’m not amused, the smiles fade as they mumble a quick goodbye before scurrying away. It’s the smartest move they could have made. Actually, the shrewdest decision would have been to keep their pie holes closed in the first place.
I shake my head before strolling inside the lobby and hitting the elevator button with my elbow. Once inside, I wait for the doors to slide open before walking down the hallway. I have to rearrange the cups, holding one against my chest and forearm before rapping on the thick wood with my knuckles.