20. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
CHRIS
M y phone buzzes in my hand again, and I know it’s the guys giving me shit for ditching them. They’ve been sending me messages ever since I sat down with Charlotte and her father at Chachi’s.
I ignore the text notification, leaning against the side of Java the Hutt, the local coffee shop and roastery, to the side of the road where Charlotte’s old Honda sits.
Is it weird I’m basically standing guard by her car, waiting to intercept her? No.
Is it giving stalker vibes? Maybe.
When my phone buzzes again, I sigh, sliding it from the pocket of my hoodie, knowing if I don’t respond, they’ll never shut up.
DAMON :
I can’t believe you ditched us for a chick.
brANDON :
You’re more whipped than Jace.
JACE :
Hey! You’re one to talk, always jumping to attention every time Tatum even so much as breathes your name.
brANDON :
That’s totally different. She’s my best friend, you fuck.
JACE :
Mm-hmm, yeah, sure. Heard that one before. *Whispers* Graham.
brANDON :
Who the hell is Graham?
DAMON :
This is why I like to steer clear of chicks. Nothing but trouble. Makes it hard to stay focused when you’re constantly thinking of how you can get your next fix.
brANDON :
Someone’s jaded.
DAMON :
Just keeping it real.
JACE :
You got it all wrong, bro. It’s the next fix that KEEPS us focused. Just ask Brandon.
brANDON :
Except I’m not getting any fixes! Tatum is my FRIEND. No fixes to be had.
JACE :
Riiiight. Keep telling yourself that, bro, and you’ll stay in the friend zone forever.
DAMON :
Can we focus back on how Chris is a loser?
brANDON :
I’m on board with that.
I scoff and shake my head, fingers flying over the keyboard.
ME :
You’re seriously calling ME whipped for preferring to spend time with a hot chick than you assholes? Where I’m from, we call that smart.
JACE :
I mean, he might have a point. I totally would’ve had dinner with Brynn if she wasn’t hanging with Liz tonight.
DAMON :
That’s because you’re up her ass.
JACE :
Not yet but give it time. ;)
ME :
You’re sick.
JACE :
And you’re jealous.
ME :
So?
My gaze slides to the street, noting the petite brunette coming this way, and I light up like a fucking lightbulb.
My hoodie dwarfs her small frame, and though I know she had zero intentions of me catching her in it, the sight is one to behold.
Something possessive stretches inside of me like a lazy cat at the sight of her, purring as I watch her approach and knowing my name and number are on her back. Her arms hang at her sides, hands fisted into balls as she mutters to herself, gaze fixed on the sidewalk at her feet.
Moving to her car, I lean against the rusted hunk of metal, waiting for her to notice me, and wondering why she’s so deep in thought. Her gaze lifts, and she jumps with a start, her hand pressed to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me,” she breathes. “What are you doing here? I thought you went home?”
I shrug, noting the way her hair shimmers with hints of auburn in the lamplight. “I wanted to see you.”
Her lips twitch like she wants to smile but won’t allow it. “Didn’t you just see me when you crashed my dinner?”
“First of all,” I say as I raise a finger, “I was invited. There’s a difference. Second, seeing you in the presence of your father doesn’t count.”
“Oh, really?”
He nods. “Really.”
“And when does it count?”
“When I can touch you like this.” I push off her car and close the gap between us until I tower over her. Reaching out, I run my hands down the length of her arms to her balled fists, and she shivers.
Slowly, I uncurl her digits, smoothing the tension in her palms with my thumbs.
“If I recall, you touched me at dinner,” she says, her voice unsteady in a way that tells me I have an effect on her, even if she does tries to hide it.
One corner of my mouth quirks in a sly grin. “It doesn’t count unless there’s a chance I might kiss you.” Her gaze drops to my mouth, egging me on. “Do you want me to kiss you, Lettie?” I murmur.
Her throat bobs before a slow-spreading smile skates over her lips, and she lifts her chin in challenge. “Only if it gets you to shut up.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, is that the only reason?”
When she shrugs, I intertwine her fingers in mine and turn, tugging her toward the brightly lit coffee shop. “Fine. No kisses for you then, because I’m definitely not done talking yet.” I motion to Java the Hut. “Have a coffee with me?”
“Coffee?” She scrunches her nose and it’s so fucking cute, I contemplate everything I just said about not kissing her yet. “It’s eight p.m. and you have an early morning. Should you really be caffeinating right now?”
I scoff. “It’s never too late for coffee,” I say, taking her hand in mine and guiding her into the little café without waiting for an answer. “Caffeine doesn’t affect me, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll have one of those herbal teas you love so much,” I say with a grimace.
Lettie beams up at me with a laugh, and it almost makes the sacrifice worth it. “You say that like you’d rather drink cyanide.”
“Is there really a difference?” I tease.
Tugging her past the life-size statue of Darth Vader by the door and toward the counter, I gesture for her to order, then browse the list of teas for the most appetizing one. “Okay, so what should I have, Lettie girl, and none of that lavender shit.”
Charlotte snorts. “He’ll have chamomile tea,” she tells the barista.
“Chamomile,” I grumble. It even sounds gross.
“It’ll relax you and help you sleep.”
I grunt, then order two slices of chocolate chip cheesecake from a platter being held up by a baby Yoda to go with it and hand the barista my card. “What?” I ask when Charlotte stares at me with wide eyes.
“How can you possibly be hungry after the monster burrito and half a pound of chips you just ate?”
I shrug and rub my stomach. “I’m a growing boy.”
Charlotte just shakes her head.
Once our drinks are ready and our cheesecake plated, we take a seat at the back. The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for us and a couple of other stragglers coming and going, mostly college-aged kids like us.
I take a sip of my tea and grimace while Charlotte snickers. “You need to add honey. It’ll make it better, I promise,” she says, taking my cup and heading toward the counter where I watch her add a generous amount of honey. I may or may not also watch the way her ass moves in those leggings.
I mean, damn .
When she returns, I take another sip and mentally pat myself on the back for not making a face.
“Don’t act like you weren’t just checking out my ass over there.”
I grin. “Busted.”
“How is it?” she asks, eyeing my cup.
“Your ass?”
“No.” She whacks me in the arm, laughing. “The tea!”
“Oh.” I grin. “Bearable. But it’s not coffee.”
Charlotte sighs and shakes her head. “There’s no hope for you.”
“Coulda told you that,” I say as I pick up a fork and start digging into my cheesecake with fervor while Charlotte watches, a ghost of a grin skating over her lips.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask.
The grin disappears almost immediately. “What do you mean?” Her gaze shifts out of focus, staring at nothing.
“You can’t fool me. I can tell when something’s bothering you, and something about that dinner with your dad was . . . off.” I settle on for lack of better words.
She exhales, her whole body shrinking with the sound. “It’s nothing.”
I reach out and tilt her chin with my fingers until her gaze meets mine. “Do I have to kiss it out of you?”
Her dark brows shoot up. “Is that a threat, Collins?”
“A threat or a promise, what’s the difference?”
Lettie leans back so she’s out of reach, and I immediately want to yank her back to me, but I don’t. I need to do this at her pace. I need to go slow.
“It’s nothing. Just . . .” She chews on her lip, and I can practically see the wheels spinning in her head as she tries to find the words. “It’s stuff with my mother. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, especially after talking to my dad. It’ll be alright.”
“You sure?” I ask, concern laced in my tone. “Whatever’s going on, you can tell me. Maybe I can help?”
She grunts. “Trust me, there’s nothing you can do to help, but I have it figured out. It’s all good, I promise.”
I drop my gaze back to my plate, sensing she wants to change the subject. “So, are you going to watch the game from the dorms tomorrow and cheer me on?”
“I’ll be with Brynn, so yes, but we’ll actually be watching on your big screen TV. That way, she can scream at the refs all she wants without getting a noise complaint.”
Why does the idea of Charlotte sitting on my couch, watching my game turn me on?
“Is that really the only reason you’ll be watching?” My tone is teasing, but underneath it is a serious question, because I want her to watch for me.
She hesitates, as if trying to decide whether to tell the truth or not. “No,” she finally says, and it’s ridiculous how fucking relieved I am.
“Want me to score another touchdown for you?” I wink, and she laughs.
“Full of ourselves, are we?”
“Always.”
“Tell you what,” she says, leaning closer like she has a secret, and boy, do I want to hear it.
Her gaze focuses on my mouth, and she reaches out, wiping away a smudge of chocolate with her thumb as she says, “Score one for me tomorrow, and maybe I’ll be waiting for you when you get back to give you a good night kiss.”
Butterflies swarm my stomach at the promise. “In my hoodie?” My gaze drops to the hoodie she’s still wearing, and I lick my lips. “Because I’m quite partial to my name scrawled across your back.”
“You want me to watch the game in your hoodie, Collins?”
I raise a shoulder. “I mean, naked would be preferable, but”?she reaches out and smacks me in the arm?“ow! Okay, hoodie it is.” I laugh.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“I can think of a few things if you need ideas.” I wiggle my brows.
She groans and covers her face with her hands. “Again, you’re incorrigible!”
I reach out, peeling her hands off her face and intertwining them with mine. “Maybe, but you like it.”
She says nothing, but she doesn’t need to because the answering blush on her cheeks says it all.
The game against Arkansas was brutal. After several minor injuries on our roster, we pulled out a win. Too exhausted to talk on the ride home, we ride the bus in silence, most of us falling in and out of sleep.
By the time Jace and I walk through the door of our apartment, it’s nearly four in the morning. My knee throbs as I kick my slides off by the door, a side effect of taking a helmet to the kneecap. The only consolation to my injury is us winning.
“Jace, is that you?” Brynn appears in the doorway of his bedroom. Even though she’s barely visible in the darkness, her hair is mussed from sleep.
“Cupcake,” he murmurs, moments before she runs to him and flings herself into his arms like a spider monkey.
Normally, I would make fun of his ass for the term of endearment, but I can’t because I’m too busy staring at the girl sitting on our couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Charlotte. She fucking waited for me.
The bag drops from my fingertips onto the floor with a soft thud, while the sound of Jace’s door closes in the background.
“You waited up for me,” I say, breaking the silence.
I’d hoped, but I hadn’t expected her to actually follow through.
Closing the distance, I sink down beside her on the couch, her chocolate eyes hooded as she blinks sleepily. “A deal’s a deal, and you held up your end of the bargain.” She grins. “Nice touchdown.”
My gaze drops to my sweatshirt as I slide a hand into her hair, cradling her head. “Nice hoodie,” I murmur, and then I capture her mouth with mine.