A man at the next table drops his fork onto his plate and stretches, breaking my concentration. Or maybe I’m trying to find something to do to keep from letting things get out of control. I can’t afford to develop feelings for Charlotte. I can’t lose my focus, and she’s been clear that football players are not listed on her dating profile.
“Has she seen a mental health counselor?”
“She saw the hospital therapist when she was in the rehab facility, but she said she didn’t need it anymore once she was released. At the time, I thought she was right. She’d progressed so fast and impressed the doctors with her resiliency, but she’s backslid. I’m worried about her.”
“I don’t blame you.”
I lick my lips and bite down on the bottom one for a second. “That’s why this contract is so important. If she needs more rehab or counseling, I need to be able to pay for it. My mom had always worked two jobs, but had to drop down to one when Piper got injured. And now, she’s quit to follow me to Kansas City. They both deserve the best of everything.” God, could I sound more like a sissy momma’s boy? She’d run the other way if I was trying to get a date. “So, I’ve got to get my speed back to take care of them.”
“That’s so sweet.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry. I thought you were a jerk, but you’re a great guy.”
“Thanks.” I cock my head to the side. “I wasn’t on my game the day we met.”
“No. I thought you were a jerk before we met in person.” Her eyes widen as if she’s said too much. What in the world could I have done to give her that impression? I’ve always been a media darling–not an asshole that got into fights or kicked out of bars.
“Why did you originally think I was a jerk?”
She pulls her hand back and drops it into her lap. “I don’t think I should answer that question.”
“Why?”
The waitress saunters across the room with a large white platter. She stops short as a little boy escapes from his table. His mother darts in front of the waitress and grabs the boy by the waist, narrowly stopping a giant mishap. The woman’s face flames as bright as her shirt as she scolds the boy.
“Fine. This will sound stupid since I didn’t even know you, but I didn’t like your girlfriend. I guess she’s your ex-girlfriend unless you’ve gotten back together. Anyway, she’s a rude person.” She purses her lips together and groans, “That’s not true. I don’t know anything about her either. I was jealous. She’s beautiful, and I’m ordinary. Her is willowy and thin, and I’ve got thick thigh–”
“Stop.” Where did she get this hang-up that she’s unattractive? “You’re graceful and strong. And one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever met, making it a little hard to keep you in the friend zone. Especially as I get to know you more. If it were any other time, I’d forget what we agreed to and convince you to give us a shot.”
The waitress drops off our food. After she leaves, my words echo at the table. I’m never this forward. And now is not the time to decide to say what I think. Not when it can’t go anywhere.
Just when I think she’s going to ignore my comment, she digs her fork into her eggs. “And if you were anyone else, I’d jump at the chance.”
Chapter Eleven
That Evening
Charlotte
After dragging my hand through my hair, I glance at the clock–6:30 p.m. My stomach growls. When was the last time I ate? Breakfast–eggs and bacon with Weston.
I wilt into the chair and close my textbook. He’s the type of guy I always saw myself with. He’s got a soft spot for his family. He’s attractive. Scratch that. He’s hot AF. And he saved me from getting hit by a car. See–all perfect, except for the small football thing.
If he doesn’t stay here in Kansas City, I can’t up and move across the country to be with him. My family is here, and I’m ready to put down roots–here. I love the city. And more importantly, I detest moving.
Stop it. It’s not like he invited me to move in with him and follow him around the world.
Yes, we get along, and there’s a smoldering attraction, but he didn’t say, ‘Hey, let’s hook-up and live happily ever after.’
“God.” I rub my face and snatch my phone off the desk. Maybe calling Tara will give me the break I need. Too much studying makes Charlotte a dull girl and obviously delusional.
Seconds later, Tara’s voice breaks the silence of my apartment bedroom. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been studying all day, and my head feels like mush.” A pile of clothes is heaped onto my white upholstered wingback chair, and a pair of tennis shoes are lying in the open doorway.
If my mom was here, she’d snap. But the clothes are clean, and my shoes are there in case a burglar tries to break in–I’m ready to go. At least that’s the story I’ll tell her if she shows up unannounced.
“Girl, you need to remember to come up for air and go pee.”
“Yeah.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. She’s right. I do have to pee. “Can I run something past you?”