Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rome
I don’t remember the last time I went on a date. If I were to consider the movie outing with Chrissy a date, that would be my answer. And if I were to compare the two, the vibe is vastly different.
Here I am, sweating my ass off through my light running shirt and jeans. It must be a mixture of nerves and the heat. Either way, I’m uncomfortable. Something about Lindsay seems off, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty and seems nice, but I have a gut feeling she’s not showing me her true self.
We get a table outside, and I sigh in relief when the sun begins to set.
The chairs and table are made from matching teakwood. The fence to my right is wrought iron and polished to perfection, with roses, vines, and fairy lights weaving across it. For a pizzeria, this place is very romantic and classy.
“So, Lindsay.” I break the silence as she sips her water. “What are you majoring in?”
“Nursing.”
I can’t help but chuckle. It seems the majority of the girls at Castle Brook are majoring in nursing. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a nurse, but I can’t help but wonder why this generation is pulled toward the profession.
“What about you?”
I observe her frizz-free blonde hair and twinkling eyes. It’s not long before a sting pierces my chest.
I miss Chrissy’s wild curls and mischievous gleam. It should be her sitting across from me, not this stranger who managed to get my number from Levi.
If only I had a backbone.
“History,” I respond with a small smile.
“History? Really? I would have thought business or some kind of physical therapy,” she offers with a hint of chastising amusement.
“I’m a firm believer in doing what you love. I adore history. I always have. I mean, if you could go back to any significant historical event, wouldn’t that be fantastic? Imagine being inside Independence Hall when the Founding Fathers signed the Declaration of Independence. Or on the field during the Battle of Yorktown.”
“You’ve lost me.” Lindsay shakes her head before dropping her gaze.
Looking down at my hands, a lingering sensation of someone watching me creeps along my left arm. Peering over, I squint when I catch a lanky guy with a terrible mustache staring at me. When he catches me looking, he and his friend scramble to pick up their menus and hide their faces.
Weird . . .
The pizza arrives, steaming from the brick oven, and my stomach rumbles. I’ve eaten today, but not nearly enough. If Chrissy were here, she would scold me, and the thought makes me grin.
The crust is rich golden-brown with some charred spots. The cheese is a gooey, molten blanket with bright slices of red garden tomatoes, green peppers, and sausages.
Not wasting another second, I cut the pizza into eight equal slices. Lindsay raises her plate, and I put two slices on it before I serve myself. When I pick the pizza up, I take a bite and stop myself from moaning. This is by far the best pizza I’ve ever had.
Silence engulfs us, and my skin starts to itch from the awkwardness. The glares coming from the two guys at the table across from us don’t make things better.
“So—” I start but stop the second my phone vibrates on the table.
Lindsay looks over at me and smiles. “You can get that.”
“Thanks,” I say as I open the text, relieved to see it’s from Chrissy.
How’s it going?
It’s okay . . . it’s quiet.
Is she quiet, or are you being quiet?
Both?
Get to know her!
I don’t know how!
OMG, okay. Ask her if she likes being a cheerleader.
I start to type out my response but stop when I get another message.
JUST DO IT.
“How do you like being a cheerleader?” I ask before Chrissy sends me another threatening message.
“I love it!” Her energy comes to life, and I can’t help but smile because it reminds me of how Chrissy gets. “My favorite part is the energy. The crowd during game days, cheering on the players. It keeps me fit too.”
“It is a vigorous sport?—”
“Finally, someone gets it.” She cuts me off and continues to beam at me.
“Do you enjoy football?”
“I do. My goal is to be drafted by the Philadelphia Eagles, but if that doesn’t happen, I’ll teach American history.” As I grin, her expression drops and her forehead crinkles. “Everything okay?”
“You’ll just give up if you don’t get drafted?” she questions as her posture stiffens.
“Well, I enjoy football, but it’s not something I’ll run myself dry over. I figure wherever the universe wants me to be is where it’ll put me. Either way, I’ll be happy.”
She squints, and the crease in her brow deepens. She did not like that answer.
“So you’re giving up?” Her voice rises, and my eyes widen.
“No—”
“You’ll quit after one rejection?”
“It’s not quitting?—”
“Yes, it is!” she shouts, and I’m taken aback.
“There’s no reason to scream,” I whisper before glancing over at the table where the two guys are and looking at them in wonder.
When the one in the blue shirt sees I’m watching them, he lowers his hat to hide his face and whispers something to his partner.
“I can’t believe this,” Lindsay scoffs, but I don’t give her the time of day.
The guy in the red shirt peeks over at me, and I tilt my head as a strange sensation creeps over my body. The second he turns away, I smile.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Looking back at my date, I stand up and place some bills on the table.
“I’d say it was a lovely time, but we both know it wasn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Before she can say anything, I walk across the way and tower over the two men hiding behind their hands.
Did these girls really think they could disguise themselves like this? Did Chrissy really think I wouldn’t spot her curls from a mile away?
Placing my hand on the table, I lean forward and lift Chrissy’s cap by the bill. I chuckle the second her glasses slide down her nose and laugh harder when her mustache comes into full view.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I manage to ask.
Without a moment of hesitation, Chrissy points at Gwen and blurts out, “It was all her idea!”
“What?!” Gwen shrieks before the two of them go back and forth.
My smile grows as I watch these two point and throw each other under the bus.
“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands in the air and snort. “Chrissy,” I chide with a teasing tone.
“Rome,” she mumbles as her leg jostles.
Holding out my hand, I meet her gaze and offer her a wide smile. “We need to talk.”
“What if I don’t want to talk?” She pouts while crossing her arms over her chest.
“Sorry, Wildflower, you don’t have a choice.” I grab her hand and pull her out of her chair with ease.
She doesn’t fight back when I guide her to the side of the restaurant, toward the parking lot, and then stop at my car. She leans against the trunk and purses her lips.
“Okay, missy.” I stop short and chuckle at her sweaty face. “Let’s just take this off.” I peel the mustache off her lips, and her jaw drops open.
“Son of a bitch!” She grunts before doubling over and pressing her hand against her mouth.
“Did you crazy glue that thing on?” I ask while crumbling it in my hand.
“Damn, and that’s why I don’t wax.” She shakes it off before meeting my gaze again.
I stop myself from laughing at the red mark above her upper lip.
“Explain yourself, Willows. Why are you and Gwen here, dressed like—” I gesture toward her attire, bewildered. “This.”
“I wanted to make sure the date was going well,” she answers nonchalantly.
“Hence the text messages?” I ask with an arched brow.
“Yes.”
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“Yes.”
Her honesty makes me laugh while I rake my fingers through my hair.
“Why? Why all this?” I point toward her attire again, totally dumbfounded by everything that has happened this evening.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she answers in a whisper.
Meeting her gaze, I sigh while I examine her. Her lips are pursed, and her nose is crinkled. She’s hiding something.
“Honesty is the best policy. What aren’t you telling me?”
She groans in response and tosses her cap on the ground. “Do you think she’s pretty?”
My eyes widen, and it takes me a moment to process not only what she just said but an answer as well. “She’s pretty, but only on the outside. I’m sure you overheard the conversation.”
“Why did you go out with her?”
“Because you told me to.”
She rolls her eyes. “You could have told me to fuck off... Whatever, I’ll rephrase the question.” She looks at me for a brief moment before continuing. “Is Zack the only barrier between us?”
Once again, her question is unexpected. Our chemistry is undeniable, but I thought she was moving on. Have I been misreading everything that has occurred between us? Does she still think about me in a romantic sense? This could explain why she dragged Gwen here tonight, not only to keep an eye on me but because she cares about me. Was she jealous?
I mean, she’s also weird—in the best way possible—but that’s not the point.
I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off. “Is it because you don’t enjoy spending time with me?”
“The whole time I sat across from Lindsay, I could only think of you. All I wanted was to see you . To see your wild eyes, your mischievous grin, and your unruly curls. When I sat down, all I could think about was how much I thought you would like it here. I wanted to be with you , Chrissy. When I tell you that Zack is the only obstacle, I mean it wholeheartedly.” Passion and desperation fill my words. I need her to believe me.
I never thought she wasn’t pretty. Even in high school, I recognized her natural beauty. I want nothing more than to be with her. To pick her up, to feel her legs wrap around my waist as I guide her against my car, and to feel her lips crash against mine as I kiss her. Fuck, the urge makes my skin itch, and I know she’s the only cure.
“You’re not lying, are you?” she mumbles before sniffling back her tears.
“You tell me. Do you think I’m lying to you?”
She scans my expression, lingering over my lips, traveling to my eyes, then down to my hands. She’s looking for signs, but she won’t find any because I’m not lying. And I will do anything to ensure she believes me.
“You’re not,” she mutters before dropping her gaze to her feet.
Without giving it another thought, I step forward, tilt her head up with my fingers, and lock my gaze with hers.
“Never hide your eyes from me.” I lower my tone as my stomach riots with nerves from being so close to her. “Don’t ever look down, Wildflower. The world needs to see your beauty, but if it were up to me, I’d keep it all to myself.”
She doesn’t respond, so I pull her closer, and she stumbles into my chest. “Do you understand?” I trace small circles along her chin with my thumb.
“I do,” she whispers.
“Good. Now, go find Gwen and get yourselves home. I’ll see you at the cat café for a session on Monday, okay?”
“Okay.” She glances down at my lips again, and I don’t stop myself from looking at hers either.
“Go. Before I make a mistake we’ll both regret.”
With a solemn nod, she looks behind me, and I drop my hand. When she leaves, I focus on my breathing rather than the impulse brewing in my veins.
It’s impossible to fight these feelings, and I can’t deny it any longer.
It might be time to have a one-on-one with Zack...