2. Sadie
Two
Sadie
P resent day
Tears sting my eyes as I stride quickly down the slushy sidewalk, the cold air swirling around me, freezing my nose and the tips of my ears. I can’t stop replaying the conversation in my mind, the words echoing against my aching skull.
We’re so sorry, but we due to a change in management, we don’t have a position for you. I’m sure you’ll find something else.
The internship I’d arranged months ago—the one I need to complete my mandatory business management credit—just evaporated before my eyes because the man who agreed to take me on decided to retire early. The new manager apparently had no interest in an intern he’d have to “babysit.”
His words, not mine.
I was supposed to start next week, in the middle of January, to complete an eight-week internship. A mandatory internship that I need to earn my mandatory credit.
“Fuck,” I whisper, a stray tear slipping down my cheek. I’m trying not to take it personally, but it stings all the same. Not to mention that it puts me in a hell of a pickle. I don’t know how I’m supposed to conjure another internship out of thin air within the next five days.
I shake my head and walk faster, heading toward my favorite coffee shop for a cup of comfort and to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
I make it to Roasters and step inside the bustling coffee shop, stamping the January slush off of my boots. I order my usual hazelnut latte and then head to a small table near the door. Not my first choice of seating, but the coffee shop is busy today, so I’ll take what I can get.
I sit down on the bench lining the wall under the window, take a fortifying sip of my latte and then haul my laptop out of my bag, trying to think around the panic mounting inside me. I should email the professor. Maybe the department head. I know that we’re responsible for arranging our own internship—to demonstrate initiative, organization, and self-sufficiency, as per the syllabus—but maybe someone can help me.
Because if not…I take another sip of my latte, but it does nothing to soothe my racing heart or the weight sitting on my chest. Maybe I should’ve ordered chamomile tea instead.
If I don’t complete the internship, I don’t get the credit. If I don’t get the credit, I’ll have to repeat the course next year, which, due to my packed academic schedule, I don’t have room to do. So, I’ll have to delay graduation by a year, all because of a stupid eight-week internship. I won’t get to graduate with my friends. I won’t get to apply to grad programs for a whole extra year.
I’ll be stuck behind. No friends. No boyfriend. Alone, all because I couldn’t get this internship to work out.
A premature wave of loneliness swamps me, and fresh tears sting my eyes. I blink furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay, but a sob bubbles up in my throat. I swallow, trying to stifle it. I don’t want to break down right here, in the middle of Roasters. I’m already having a shit day; I don’t need the humiliation of sobbing in public, too.
But it’s no use. I’m not going to win the battle against these tears. My shoulders shake and my chin quivers. Hot tears slip down my cheeks, and I hastily wipe them away with the ends of my scarf.
“Sadie?” A familiar deep voice rumbles from my left.
Oh, god. No. No, no, no. Please, no. Not him.
I’d know that voice anywhere. Not only do I hear it whenever I visit my friend Lilah, but it regularly makes an appearance in my dreams.
And fantasies.
My cheeks burn fiercely, and I duck my head, letting my hair fall forward to shield my face. I swipe at my cheeks again with the scarf, but fresh tears fall, leaving my cheeks hot and wet.
“Hi, Shane,” I manage, my voice sounding as though I’ve swallowed a frog.
“Are you okay?” His voice is closer now. Closer, and so full of concern that it makes more tears leak out of my eyes. “Are you crying?”
“No,” I say with a completely unconvincing whimper.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” I can’t handle Shane’s pity right now. I don’t have the strength for it.
I hear the scrape of wood over the tiles as he pulls out the chair across from me. He sits down, the chair creaking under his solid weight.
It’s a weight I’ve imagined on top of me so many times that I’ve lost count.
“Hey.” His voice is soft. Gentle and low. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
I shake my head, unable to look at him. Which is new for me, because usually when I’m around him, it feels like all I do is look at him. But I can’t right now. Not when I’m red-faced and sniffling. I try so hard to be confident and flirty in front of him. To be what he wants.
Not that it’s made a difference over the past seven months.
Because Shane…he’s all I want. He’s my secret obsession. It started out as a crush and blossomed into something more. Something that swallowed me up and pulled me deeper every single time I was around him. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about him, or write about him in my journal, or touch myself imagining it’s his fingers working my clit, telling me I’m his special girl.
I’m a mess over him, and I’m positive he doesn’t see me as anything but Lilah’s friend. He never reacts when I clumsily try to flirt with him. When I wear sexy clothes around him. He’s always polite, but distant.
Completely uninterested.
Which crushes my tender, foolish little heart, because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with Shane Ferguson. He’s so smart, and capable, and experienced. So driven and dedicated to his job. So ridiculously sexy, with his thick, dark hair threaded through with gray, his dark permascruff that straddles the line between stubble and beard. Shane, with his warm brown eyes that make me feel melty and warm. Shane, with his deep voice and huge hands and broad shoulders. Shane, with his full lips and muscular ass I want to bite. Shane, who makes me feel like there isn’t a problem in the world he couldn’t solve.
Shane. It’s like his name is tattooed on the inside of my brain.
I let out a shuddering breath, and then jump when I feel the warm touch of his strong fingers under my chin. With gentle pressure, he tips my face up, forcing me to look at him. I blink, tears clinging to my eyelashes.
His gorgeous face is etched with concern, lines digging in between his brows, his jaw tight. “Sadie. What happened?”
I sniffle and then suck in a shuddery breath. It’s as though the feeling of his fingers on my skin cracks me open, and the words come pouring out of me.
“I lost my internship. The one I need to graduate. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I’m going to find another one in time. I’m going to have to delay graduation, and I’ll be stuck here alone, and…”
A fresh sob bubbles out of me as panic and worry and fear all tangle together in the middle of my chest. Tears spill out of my eyes, streaking down my cheeks.
Shane is out of his seat in an instant, sitting down on the bench beside me, and then his huge hand is on my back, rubbing soothing circles.
“Take a deep breath for me. Sadie?” I look up at him, and he nods reassuringly. “Deep breath.” I do as I’m told and he nods again. “There we go. Breathe.”
I take another breath and try to get a hold of myself. Shane’s hand on my back is warm and comforting, and I can’t stop myself from pressing back slightly into his touch.
I don’t think he’s ever touched me before.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m a mess.” In so many ways.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he says firmly. “This is a big deal, and anyone would be upset. But we’ll figure it out, okay?”
We. As if we’re a team. As if he’s invested in this.
In me.
My stupid heart thumps painfully in my chest.
“What am I going to do?” I hate how helpless I sound.
He’s quiet for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. His hand is still rubbing those slow, soothing circles on my back, and even though he’s just being nice, the touch is making heat start to throb between my legs. I shift in my seat, pressing my thighs together to try to soothe the ache.
It doesn’t work.
I suck in another deep breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne, and butterflies run rampant in my stomach. I want to curl into him, to tuck my face against his chest and let him hold me. Let him make it all better.
“What if…” He pauses, and I glance up at him. Every single time I look at him, my heart flops in my chest. He’s looking at me, his expression thoughtful. “What if you did your internship with the Thunder?”
I blink. “What?”
“Well…you’d be working for me, but you could get experience in different areas. Marketing, social media, maybe even a little sports psychology.” The corner of his mouth kicks up. “You’d be learning about managing and running a professional sports team. Would that…satisfy the requirements? For your course?”
I blink again. “I think so, yeah.” I chew on my bottom lip. “You’d do that for me?” The question comes out soft and shaky. My blood is buzzing, my mind whirling. Even though he’s offering me the lifeline I so desperately need, can I handle spending that much time around Shane?
“Of course I would.” His hand slips downward, stilling on my lower back. “I’d do anything for you, Sadie.”
Oh. Oh, my stupid heart.
I stare at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. He can’t have any idea what those words are doing to me right now. How much I want them to mean more than they do.
His hand lingers on my back, his touch searing through my thin sweater. Heat blooms across my skin, tingling and sparking like a live wire. It’s like electricity dancing through my blood. I swear I can feel the impression of each individual finger, the heavy weight and solid strength of his hand. It’s possessive in a way that has my pussy clenching, making my panties wet.
I shift in my seat again, trying to relieve the incessant throbbing of my clit, but it’s utterly useless. I’m hyper aware of every single inch of my body, of every single place Shane and I are connected. His thigh is pressed against mine, and I can feel the roughness of his jeans through my leggings.
His hand still hasn’t moved from my lower back, his thick fingers splayed wide. I love how much of my back his hand covers, emphasizing how much bigger than me he is.
I glance up at him from under my lashes, my cheeks hot, and find him watching me intently, his dark eyes glittering with something I can’t name. His gaze flicks down to my mouth for the briefest moment, and I lick my lips reflexively, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure the entire coffee shop must be able to hear it.
“Sadie,” he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me, making my nipples harden into aching points. I want him to keep saying my name in that voice, over and over again. “I meant what I said. I’d do anything for you.”
The air between us feels thick and heavy. I want to crawl into his lap and press my face into his neck. I want to feel his hands all over me, stroking and squeezing and claiming. I want him to ruin me in the best possible way.
But I don’t do any of that, because he doesn’t want me to. So, I just sit there, holding his gaze while my body throbs.
“I…” I swallow. “I don’t know what to say.”
His expression goes soft, his eyes warm like hot chocolate, and I want to drown in them. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin tingles everywhere his fingertips graze.
“You don’t have to say anything right now. Think it over.”
I nod. “Okay. I will.” Tears prick at my eyes again, but this time, they’re tears of relief. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I don’t…I don’t know what I would do…”
“Hey,” he says, and my eyes snap up to his. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”
Another tear slips down over my cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, and my breath catches in my throat as his fingers linger on my skin. The rough pad of his thumb traces over my cheekbone with excruciating slowness, like he’s savoring the feel of me. His dark eyes pin me in place. I can’t look away. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. I’m frozen under his molten gaze and tender touch, my heart pounding frantically.
Shane is looking at me as though I’m some precious thing, something to be cherished. As though he wants me the way I’ve wanted him for all these months.
Hope flutters in my chest, fragile and tentative. Could he possibly…No. I can’t let myself go there. If he felt anything for me, he would’ve acted on it. He’s had ample opportunity, and nothing has ever happened between us.
I’m his daughter’s friend. He’s just comforting me. I can’t let my silly heart think it’s anything more.
But still, his fingers linger, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into his touch, nuzzling my cheek against his warm, rough palm. I can’t help the blissful sigh that escapes my lips.
Shane lets out a ragged breath and once again, his gaze drops down to my mouth, lingering this time. But then he clears his throat, takes his hand away and moves back several inches.
“I have to go,” he says somewhat abruptly. “But call or text me when you’ve decided about the internship.” He starts to stand.
“I, um, I don’t have your number?” It comes out as a question.
“Oh. Right.” He holds out his hand expectantly, and I unlock my phone and then hand it over. His fingers move over the screen as he enters his contact info. After a moment, he hands my phone back, our fingers grazing. Tingles race up my arm at the contact, but Shane seems completely unaffected, convincing me that any chemistry or sexual tension I was picking up on a moment ago was entirely one sided.
“Thank you, again,” I say, forcing what I hope is a friendly smile onto my face. It honestly feels a bit more like a grimace.
He nods, his jaw tight, and then leaves without a word.
My heart feels sore. Like someone’s been squeezing it too tightly for too long. But at least I have a replacement internship and my graduation plans aren’t fucked.
Yet somehow, as I watch Shane step out into the wintery air, that feels like cold comfort.