Chapter 19
Lucy
TJ’s truck is parked near the front entrance, and he holds the door open for me to climb inside. By the time he seats himself behind the wheel, I have fully recovered from my momentary lapse in judgment wherein I was about to blab to TJ who I was and what I write.
I’m claiming temporary insanity and thanking the dear Lord I came to my senses before I spilled my guts.
I’m also thanking Summer for reminding me that TJ—social butterfly, outgoing, big personality, flirty-with-everyone-and-their-sister TJ—is not a guy I can confide in or trust with something as major as my pen name and secret author career. This is for the best.
“So, where were we?” TJ turns in his seat and wags his brows. “Oh yes, you admitted you had a secret.”
The cab of the truck is dim and only lit by the overhead lights outside in the parking lot. Still, his blue eyes glint with mischief. On the dance floor, they had me ready to tell him anything. But not anymore.
I’ve gotten good at keeping my author career to myself. TJ is another in a long line of people whose charms and forces of persuasion I have to remain impassive to.
“Hardly,” I tell him, brushing a stray thread from the hem of my shirt. “You’re reading into what I said.”
“So you don’t have a secret?” TJ crosses his impressive arms. “Why’d you get all antsy when you were watching Titi and Arnold?”
“I was merely commenting on how a pair like that would make for an excellent story.”
“Uh huh.” His voice is laced with skepticism. “You said you could write a story about them.”
“I’m sure I could,” I say easily. “So could you. You’ve been around them more than I have.
I’ve known Titi for one night, and I can already tell that she’s got a personality that could carry an entire movie franchise.
Arnold was so cute being bulldozed by her.
” I smile now, thinking about them. It gives me something to focus on that’s not TJ’s penetrating gaze.
I have an entire idea for Monica’s grandparents based on the pair. I can work it into a subplot about her family history, and it’ll add some levity to an otherwise difficult past she’s been working to overcome.
TJ squints at me, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly, like he’s trying to make out my sincerity. I sit up straighter. I don’t owe him anything.
Even as I think it, that hint of guilt returns, pricking at the base of my neck.
I have been using TJ as inspiration for the story.
He’s an unwitting accomplice. Does that mean I owe him the truth?
Inside, on the dance floor, with his body pulling mine to his with confidence and ease, feeling his hand splayed on my back and against my palm, catching the scent of his shampoo and having his smile aimed at me, I would have said yeah, I’ll tell him.
He wore down my defenses with his fleetness of foot and sweetness of smile.
But Summer was a good reality check. I’m nothing special to TJ.
Just another girl in a long line of girls whom he’s crossed paths with.
He can be my friend, and that’s all well and good, but I don’t owe him the truth.
Even if he’s given me a lot of material for the next phase of my current work in progress.
“How are you feeling about your game this weekend?” I ask, breaking the silent stare-down we’re in and putting my thoughts in much more neutral territory.
Thinking about my story and my main character, who is based on TJ, in the presence of the man himself is making me trippy.
What’s real? What’s fake? I don’t need another slip-up.
He blinks slowly and then eases back into his seat, as if deciding to let me off the hook. Crisis averted. “Good,” he says. “We leave tomorrow. Quick flight, and then we’ll have a day and a half to acclimate and relax before Sunday afternoon’s game.”
I’ve been trying to read up on football to learn at least the bare minimum to write a pro-football character, but I still feel woefully uneducated when it comes to TJ’s livelihood. “Are you guys, um, being picked to win?”
He shoots me a sly grin. “If people are smart, they’ll never pick against me … or the River Foxes.”
He’s laying his cockiness on thick, and usually I’d consider that an off-putting trait, but I can tell with TJ that he’s doing it in good fun.
He knows he’s good. He knows his team is good.
He owns that. It’s got to be a burden to carry the pressure that comes with talent and a record like the River Foxes have.
I would hate to be in the spotlight and under the microscope.
He doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, it almost seems to energize him.
I shake my head. “Pretty confident in yourself, huh?”
“You’ve seen me play,” he responds, as if his game speaks for itself.
I shrug in response, facing the windshield and not giving him the satisfaction of agreeing with him that yes, he’s impressive. Yes, even if I have no clue what he actually does, even a novice like me can tell he’s a beast out there. Yes, it’s all kinds of hot.
Wait. I shouldn’t be thinking about TJ and how attractive I find him. We’re friends.
“Will you watch this weekend?”
Something in his tone catches my attention.
I expected continued cockiness, but instead, there’s a vulnerability there, and when I side-eye him, I see it in the stiffness of his posture, the way he’s leaning toward me, jutting his chin out like he really hopes I say yes.
This is a different side to the overly confident, more-swagger-in-his-pinky-toe-than-I-have-in-my-entire-body man who was teasing me a minute ago.
This TJ feels more real—and my entire body melts.
“Of course I will. What are friends for?”
He relaxes in his seat and smiles back at me.
“Speaking of that. Do you need me to take care of anything for you while you’re gone?” I ask.
He opens his mouth, but words don’t come out. He blinks at me a couple times.
“Is that a weird question?” I reach up to pull my hair into a tail, twisting the end around and swirling it into a bun to give myself something to focus on.
“I’m sure you have people, closer friends or whatever, who help you out when you go away,” I prattle on.
“I was thinking with your house and your chickens and whatever. If there’s anything I can do—”
TJ presses a hand on my knee, and I stop speaking, staring at the point of contact between his palm and my jeans.
I bring my gaze up to meet his, but his expression is unreadable.
I shift in my seat, and his hand falls away.
I tell myself not to be a total cliché and miss the contact immediately, but here we are.
Come back, I think before I can stop myself.
Dang it.
“That’s really nice of you to offer, Lu.” His voice is ten shades of gravely, and I have to stave off a shiver at his use of my nickname.
“Of course. Whatever you need, let me know.”
“It is supposed to be pretty cold this weekend. Especially Sunday. If you could check on the chickens and make sure their water hasn’t frozen, that would be great.
I’d ask my grandparents, but I worry about them coming out in the cold, and I guess my neighbor could maybe check things out, but as a die-hard River Foxes fan, he usually tailgates at the stadium even for away games, and yeah. ”
TJ cuts himself off, and I don’t think he realizes how much more at ease in my own skin he’s making me feel. I wouldn’t have pegged him as a rambler, but it’s a comfort to know he doesn’t always have the exact words ready to go either.
I smile. “I’m happy to help.”