16. Jane #2
“Yeah.” I lock my phone and look up.
“You stopped walking.”
“Just reading some emails.” I don’t know if the shakiness in my voice is audible to him, but he doesn’t press and I don’t tell him. Not yet. I need a second to digest this. Who is E. Rex Sean? I walk into University Hall. “Did you decide to have coffee with me?”
“Already had coffee this morning.”
“So?”
“I only drink one cup a day. I try not to have a lot of caffeine or sugar.”
“Because?”
“I don’t know.”
I roll my eyes, of course he doesn’t. “Do you do anything in excess?”
“Sometimes.”
“It’s not talking,” I mutter as I step up to the counter. I turn off my earpiece as I order.
When the barista tries to hand me both drinks, I only take one. “The other one is for a friend. He’ll be swinging by to get it in just a minute. Tall, dark hair, has this angry, broody look about him. You’ll know him when you see him.”
She chews rapidly on the gum in her mouth and nods, then sets it down on the to-go counter.
I press on the earpiece. “Bought you something and left it at the pick-up counter.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know.” I take my coffee to a table in the back.
I look around for Hendrick, but as usual, I don’t see him.
It’s not very busy right now, so if he’s in here, he’s doing a damn good job of hiding.
On cue, the door from outside opens, and he steps through.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how devastatingly hot he is.
Even trying to hide, he draws attention.
The barista flashes him a much bigger smile than she did me as he takes the drink. He tips his head to me before heading back outside, probably to watch more sports news.
“Thank you,” he says a few seconds later.
“Did you try it yet?”
“No. Why?”
“Don’t thank me until you try it.”
It goes quiet and then he curses lightly while coughing. “What in the hell is that?”
“You’re welcome,” I sing-song.
He grunts, which makes me want to roll my eyes. I guess he probably had to keep a strict diet while he was in the NFL. I wonder if he misses it. Then I remember I can just ask.
“Do you miss playing football?”
“Not yet, but it hasn’t been that long.”
“So you practice with the team, but you don’t play in the games?” I did a little bit of research, but the sports lingo went right over my head. Also, it’s possible I was too distracted by the photos that came up of him in his uniform. Hendrick Holland in football pants . . . wow.
“The practice squad is where they move guys off the active roster to keep developing them or serve as backup in case someone gets hurt, or in my case, it’s a place to let washed-up players teach the rookies a thing or two.
The schedule is the same as the guys on the active roster, except we don’t travel with the team. ”
“And you’ll do the same thing next season?”
There’s a pause before he answers. “I don’t know yet. My contract ended in December after their regular season was over. My agent thinks they’ll offer me a new contract for the practice squad, but I don’t know.”
“I’m surprised more people don’t recognize you. Your disguises are a little too good.”
He chuckles. “It’s not Archer’s clothes. I didn’t play enough for that type of attention.”
“You should. Your face deserves all the attention.”
“I went pro too early. I should have stayed and developed more in college. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is,” he says. “I don’t know why I said that. I hate that phrase.”
“Me too.” I laugh lightly. I want to ask him more, but a shadow falls over the table and I look up to see Paris beaming down at me with her beautiful smile.
“Oh no,” I mutter so softly I’m surprised when he asks, “What’s wrong?”
The seriousness in his tone has me certain he’s about to bust in here ready for fight mode.
I’d kind of like to see that, but I turn my head and cover my mouth as I say, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Then I glance back at the Panhellenic Council president. “Hey, Paris.”
Her teeth are so white and perfect she could do toothpaste commercials. “I just happened to see you on my way out and wanted to pop over and say hello.”
I wave. “Hello.”
“Have you given any more thought to performing at the Spring Fling?” Her eyes sparkle and plead. She’s gorgeous even when she’s being annoying, which is even more annoying.
“No, actually I haven’t.”
She looks crestfallen but doesn’t let it deter her. “I ran into one of the guys in your band and he said they’ve been working on some new material.”
“You talked to Eric?”
“No. The one with the long hair and septum piercing.”
“Ted,” I say. “And I’m not part of their band. I just fill in sometimes for their singer.”
“Mackenzie, I know. She’s great.”
“You know the band?”
“Duh. I’m not an idiot. I did my research. They’re good.”
“So, why not let them do the show without me?”
“You know why.”
I groan inwardly.
“They won’t get the same draw unless you perform with them. It doesn’t even have to be every song. You could pop in for one or five.” She looks so hopeful.
“I’m sorry. My answer is still no.” I wrap both hands around my coffee cup. “But you should ask them. You’re right, they’re really, really good.”
“All right.” She sighs. “I guess I don’t have any other choice. If I don’t get something finalized, the committee is going to have a meltdown.”
“It’ll be great,” I reassure her, trying to ignore the weird disappointment I feel settling in at passing up the opportunity. I just can’t. Not yet. And this will be great for Eric and the rest of the group.
After she’s gone, I drop my head and stare down at my chipped white nail polish. I’d almost forgotten about Hendrick when I remember the earpiece. “Sorry. I forgot to press the button.”
“It’s fine,” he says in that smooth, even tone.
“Feel like a walk?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
I stand and grab my things. “My favorite place on campus.”