Chapter 9 Lilly
NINE
LILLY
Tuesday morning arrives and after I take a quick shower, I prepare some toast and sip from my coffee. I am going to see him again. I can’t believe he’d sacrifice his free time to come volunteer.
I slip into jeans, a top, and sneakers. Opening the door, I find him with his hand raised, ready to knock. He looks spectacular in jeans and a T-shirt that covers his carved torso.
The corners of his full lips arch into a dazzling smile.
I’d like to trace it with my fingertip, brush my mouth against his to memorize the shape.
He has such a kissable mouth, full lips with a maddening Cupid’s bow.
There’s a tingle in my fingers, in my lips.
I itch and ache everywhere. I swallow the desire down, burying it low in my core.
“How are you this morning?” he asks. The low rasp I swear I can feel between my thighs, electrifies me.
“Looking forward to seeing you in a hairnet! Wondering if your ego can be knocked down a few pegs,” I say with a laugh.
“I’ll see what I can do to accommodate your wish,” Ian replies with a smirk.
Downstairs, he opens the door for me, waiting for me to walk out of the building.
This friendship will cost me my heart, yet bring me the greatest joy.
A contradiction I live in daily. I’ve never had a male friend before which is refreshing.
With him, there’s no pressure, just the desire to spend more time together.
In the car, he starts the engine, and an eclectic playlist starts. I hum to the songs that echo in the space until we reach our destination.
The other volunteers gasp, taking him in with open mouths. Ian looks nonchalant about their reactions and asks how he can help.
Putting on some gloves, he rinses a stack of dirty dishes. Refusing to entertain how good those calloused hands would feel on my body, I go help plate the food.
I watch through the kitchen window as people take their seats.
The large space exudes an industrial vibe.
Long tables line up in a vertical row, each one accommodating up to twelve people.
Sadness engulfs my chest, fisting around my heart.
Everyone has a story, struggling to get through the day.
Maybe it’s not much, but no one should go without a warm meal.
My attention derails when I whip my head to see my father entering, sweeping his hard gaze from me to Ian.
Rooted in place, I blink, reduced to a small girl afraid to upset him.
Sweat breaks on my forehead, and I rush to him, hugging him. “Hi, Daddy.”
His brows furrow, staring at Ian’s back. “I see you found my replacement.”
I swallow, the anxiety setting heavy in my stomach, upsetting it at once.
“We kind of… We’re friends.” I hope my features don’t betray the desire for more.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Yes? Hmm, I don’t know if I like that…”
“I thought you had to be somewhere else this morning,” I say, quickly changing the subject.
“I postponed it.” His features soften. “Seemed more important to be here with you.”
Ian cocks his head, noticing my dad too. He approaches with steady steps, his face betraying nothing while my nerves escalate to a new high. I am one awkward moment away from hyperventilating.
“Hi, Coach.”
“Ian.” My father’s voice is threaded with ice. It’s a wonder a snowstorm hasn’t frozen him in place. “My daughter was just telling me how you two are friends now.”
He studies Ian through the eyes of a judge, waiting for the jury’s verdict when he has already found the defendant guilty on all charges.
“Ian’s been so nice to me,” I plead.
Ian cringes at that word, while I word vomit. “We’ve been bumping into each other, and we have so much in common.”
Shut up already.
“Yes, Coach, you know me. I’m a nice guy.”
If my father’s eyes are ice, Ian’s are fire, burning me from within.
“I trust you.” The statement delineates the fine line Ian and I are always treading. My father might want to put us on different sides, but something tells me we’d build a bridge between us.
My father dips his head and goes to help the others.
Ian slants him a hard stare and starts to move when I rush to say, “You know what I meant.”
His back stiffens, but he returns to his duties.
I am all over the place, my clumsiness reaching a perilous level. I drip food on myself as I steal glances at Ian. I swallow the yelp when the hot liquid seeps through the fabric, searing my skin.
Focus, I urge myself, wishing for time to pass faster. Otherwise, I don’t know if I’ll survive.
Once done, the three of us walk outside in stilted silence.
My father says, “Where’s your car?”
Oh shit.
“We came together,” I squeal.
Good god, I’ve never been this nervous, not even when I brought my first boyfriend to introduce to him. My father’s expression tightens, and Ian says, “Nice seeing you, Coach.” Then he turns to me, expectation clear in his intent stare. “Are you ready to go?”
My body tightens, aware of what he’s doing, and he’s not shy about letting me know.
I rummage through my small bag searching for my sanity, and say, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have my dad drive me home.”
So lame that I wouldn’t mind if the ground would open and swallow me whole. It would be more merciful than facing the man I want and the one who would never accept him as my boyfriend.
Our hands brush in a handshake. Electricity sparks, my insides erupting into a firework. I expect to explode in neon colors right on the sidewalk, flashing every forbidden thought and hidden desire.
His jaw sharpens, and I half expect him to cut through my bullshit. Dipping his chin in a nod, he gets in his car and drives away.
I hop in the car with Dad. He’s silent as we head toward my apartment.
“Dad, we’re friends. Just friends.” I insist, the guilt churning in my stomach.
His lips tighten into a harsh line. “I know what I saw.”
“What did you see?” I ask in a high-pitched tone, making me sound even guiltier.
“That’s not the way friends look at each other.”
“I promised I wouldn’t date a player of yours.”
Keep your promise.
Reaching my building, my dad parks along the sidewalk and turns toward me.
His eyes, shining with unconditional love, seek mine.
“You’re my baby girl, and I want only the best for you.
Life with a player might feel exhilarating, but you’ve been so adamant about stability.
I know it’s partially my fault, but his career is just beginning.
” He drags a lungful of air, and expelling a long breath, he continues, “I can’t say he’s not a good guy, but I know him as an athlete.
There will be temptation and public scrutiny.
It can either go spectacularly well or spectacularly bad. ”
I wave his concern away as if I am not thinking about Ian and me together every second of every day.
“I know, Dad. Trust me. We’re friends. I like him just as a friend.
” The more I emphasize this point, the more I get the impression no one is going to buy it.
While it’s the truth, it’s also a lie. He’s a friend I would like to fuck and gamble my heart.
“I’m so proud of you,” he says, eyes glistening.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say and peck him on the cheek before exiting the car.
Something shifted between Ian and me after the encounter with my father. It’s been four days, and we haven’t seen each other or texted.
I always find a lily on my doorstep, and I leave a shot at his, but it’s not enough. The withdrawal drags my heart into the pits of hell, leaving me there to boil in sheer agony.
I curse when I realize the juice trickles over the glass, fully unfocused. Nancy notices my distraction and says, “I can take over.”
I offer a thank you and slip through the back door, inhaling a breath of fresh air. I crane my head to the sky, closing my eyes. Bright rays of sun dance on my cheeks, penetrating my chilly insides, when someone leans against me, shouldering me.
“What’s up, bestie? Still radio silence?”
I nod, my stomach cramping with sadness. I miss Ian, and tears gather in my eyes.
“It’s apparent he wants more, and that was like a big reality check.”
“It was,” I sigh, the distraught sound coming from deep within my soul.
I don’t want to disappoint my dad. And dating Ian would assure I’d do just that. If I miss Ian after not seeing him for a few days, needing him in my life so soon is not healthy. Distance might be what we both need to get our heads straight.
My feelings for Ian are not just friendly. They chip at the surface, bobbing their flashy heads, signaling they’re here to stay if I want them to or not.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say, putting my face between my palms.
She caresses along my back, her care soothing me. “Do what feels right. Stop overthinking.”
“I miss him… and not just as a friend.” The truth is as liberating as it is chaining.
Kat shakes her head at me. “You and your third relationship. That’s not set in stone.”
“Who can compare to Ian?” I sigh again, aware of the answer. No one.
She shrugs. “You don’t know, like you don’t know what giving this a chance might bring you. That’s the best part about the future. No one foresees what will happen.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as if wanting to snub the frustration eating at me. “You don’t get it. He’s so consuming and makes me feel things I haven’t felt before. It’s terrifying.”
“Let’s make a list of pros and cons,” she suggests.
I roll my eyes at her as she ticks off her fingers. “He’s supportive, has a steady career, and makes you feel all kinds of things. And damn, he’s good looking.”
“My dad is his coach, he might break my heart, he’s a freaking star in the NFL,” I counter.
She waves me off, undeterred. “You went out of your comfort zone with the shop too. Time to overcome your fears to achieve your goals.”
She’s right, but it’s not that easy. Or maybe it is, and I am trapped in my rigid thinking. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I remain silent, pondering when she rocks her hip into mine. “Go home. I have this.”