Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“Up for what?” I asked.
“Up for anything.”
Now he was talking crazy. “No one is jumping out of a plane for you, Collins.”
He laughed hard enough to have to hold off on taking a bite. “That’s not what I mean. It’s more of an attitude thing. You might have noticed I’m a pretty positive guy.”
I nodded. “Yes, you’re a giant puppy. I noticed.”
Ironically, he did the head tilt thing as he said, “I’m not a puppy.”
“If you could see yourself right now, you wouldn’t argue with me.” Wanting to reassure him, I said, “It isn’t a bad thing.”
His expression said he didn’t believe me. “Anyway, whoever I’m with doesn’t need to be in the gym or running marathons with me.”
“You run marathons?”
“Mostly 5Ks, but I’ve done a full one twice.”
Of course he had. “I should have guessed that.”
“Was that sarcasm?”
This time, actually no. “I genuinely should have guessed you’d run a marathon. It’s long and excruciating—I assume— and I can see that sort of thing being attractive to you. I mean, you’re out with me so you must be a sadist.”
Trey leaned back in his chair. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Insult yourself.”
“It’s one of my charms,” I replied, dropping my eyes to my plate.
“No, seriously. I get that it’s self-deprecating humor, but if you say things like that often enough you start to believe them. In case you do, I can assure you there’s nothing sadistic about being out with you.” After a long pause, he said, “Lindsey.”
I looked up from the food. “What?”
“Are you hearing me?” His bright eyes shone with genuine concern, which forced me to swallow the sarcastic retort on the tip of my tongue.
“Trey, I’m fine. I’m just well aware that my personality isn’t for everyone.”
“Whose is?”
“What?”
“Whose is?” he repeated. “You think I’ve never met a person who didn’t like my personality? I give pep talks for a living, I’m overly curious about everything, and I talk to strangers like I’ve known them my whole life. If anything, it’s more odd that you’re out with me than the other way around.”
You could not convince me this man had a single enemy on the planet. “That’s bull.”
Trey blinked twice before setting his fork down and sitting up straighter. “Why are you the only person you get to think badly about?”
He was way off the mark with that one. “Let me assure you, there are plenty of people I don’t like. You were one of them, if you recall.”
“Thank you for proving my point,” he said, and returned to eating.
What did I… Wait. “You can’t count me. I don’t like anyone.”
With a pfft he said, “Yes, you do. You have as many friends as anyone else.”
I had to think about that one. Other than the girls, who did I have? The guys, I supposed. Georgie, of course, and Latrelle, then Carole, since she was practically part of the family, and I’d gotten to know Gina pretty well. There were other teachers on staff that I’d socialized with over the years and come to both like and respect. Did that make us friends?
“You’re doing the math, aren’t you?” Trey said with a shake of his head. “The reality is that you aren’t the ogre you think you are.”
This was why I didn’t let people into my swamp. “I never said I’m an ogre. Just…cranky.”
Trey shook his head. “You aren’t even that most of the time.”
Who did he think he was? Less than three months since we met and he was an expert on my whole personality? I’d lived with myself for thirty-three years, not him. And if he kept this up, he’d be lucky if he got another thirty-three seconds of my time.
“Has anyone ever told you that your observational skills suck?”
His chuckle surprised me. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who gets upset when I say something positive about you.” After swirling the last bite of steak around his plate, he popped it into his mouth and locked eyes with mine. Seconds passed before he said, “My mission is to get you to see yourself the way the rest of us do.”
So he spoke for everyone now? Jaw tight, I pushed my plate away, appetite waning. “I’m not a project you need to fix, Coach Collins.”
“No, you aren’t.” His voice softened. “But everyone can use a little positive perspective now and then. You’re a good person, Lindsey. I see it at school, I hear it from your friends, and I sense it even when you’re scowling at me like you are right now. In case no one’s ever told you, that little crinkle you get between your eyebrows is really cute.”
Self-conscious, I rubbed my forehead and pulled my plate close again. To show that I actually could accept a compliment, I said, “Thank you.”
Fifty denials and deflections buzzed through my brain, but I was determined to keep them to myself. Trey didn’t need to know that what I said and what I felt were drastically different, and I appreciated him going out of his way to see some good in me, even if I didn’t see it myself.
Becca had said similar things over the years, but those were easy to ignore. She was my best friend. She had to say nice things about me. Then again, if I was as off-putting as I claimed to be, why would she be my friend at all? Maybe I assumed I was grandfathered into her good graces because we’d been inseparable since third grade.
But that didn’t apply to the others.
Josie and Megan met me in college, and Donna well after that. Yet they’d embraced me the same way Becca had, almost from day one. All together, there was enough evidence that perhaps I needed to reevaluate my perception of myself, but even considering taking that deep dive made me squirm. If I wasn’t the lip-snarling, resident grump, then who was I?
Confused and speechless, I moved the food around my plate in silence. Being so thoroughly seen by someone, especially in a positive light, was a new experience. No one I’d ever gone out with took the time to look at me. Like, really look. In a way, that was all I’d wanted. To find someone willing to get past the snark and defensive sarcasm to the person underneath it all.
I was never going to have a mushy center, but that didn’t mean there weren’t vulnerable little pockets of goo tucked in there somewhere. They were deep, but they were there.
Voice low, Trey asked, “Do you want to change the subject?”
“Yes, please.”
Without a hint of humor or disdain, he nodded. “We can do that.”
The walk back to my place was significantly colder than the one we’d taken to get there. I had no idea how Trey wasn’t freezing. He wasn’t even wearing a coat, yet I found myself moving closer to absorb the body heat coming off of him.
“Thank you for dinner,” he said as we moved around a couple coming from the other direction.
“You paid for your own,” I reminded him.
“You picked a really good restaurant, and came with me. So thanks for the food and the company.”
Swallowing my natural urge to deflect, I said, “You’re welcome.” Trying to pull my head down into the collar of my coat, I said, “Are you really not cold?”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and hitched his shoulders up to his ears. “I am, actually. I need to stop leaving my coat in the truck.”
Teeth chattering, we picked up the pace and made the rest of the walk in silence. Once we reached my building, I expected Trey to peel off to his truck, but instead he followed me to the building entrance.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door.”
“Sure I do,” he said, shoulders still hunched.
Hugging my cheesecake container to my chest, I said, “Is this another one of those your mom is watching moments?”
Trey nodded. “It is, but even if she wasn’t, I’d still walk you to your door.”
The chivalry was completely lost on me, but I didn’t argue. Unlocking the outside door, I led the way down the hall to my apartment. After a quick turn of the key, I pushed the door open while saying, “You got me here safe and sound, thanks.”
Bright blue eyes widened as he peered over my head. “Do you have a roommate?”
“No, I live alone. Why?”
He nudged me to the side and stepped into the open doorway. “Wait here.”
What… Why would I wait in the hall? And who invited him inside? As he almost silently went in, I noticed him doing some crime drama cop stuff.
Leaning forward to glance down toward the kitchen, he called out, “Is anyone here?”
Following him, I said, “I just told you?—”
Trey spun and held one finger to my lips in the universal signal for hush. Did they spike his pop or something? What was he doing? As I was about to ask, he motioned for me to look around, so I did.
“What the he?—”
He shushed me again and whispered, “Let me make sure no one is here.”
No way he thought this was the work of a burglar. Since when did criminals break into a house only to clean the place from top to bottom? My shoes were gone; I assumed shoved into the closets. The used plate and cup from the end table were missing, pillows were fluffed, mail was neatly stacked on a corner of the coffee table, and the empty pizza box from two days before had magically disappeared along with everything else.
While Trey tiptoed through my living room, I marched down to the kitchen, and just as I suspected, the place was immaculate.
“I can’t believe they did this,” I mumbled.
Trey joined me at the counter. “I checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Nobody’s here but us.”
“Is the bathroom clean?”
“Spotless,” he replied. “Safe to guess that wasn’t the case when we left?”
“Very safe. I seriously can not believe they did this.”
“You want to fill me in? Who would break into your apartment just to clean it? And are you sure there’s nothing missing?”
“The girls,” I said, shaking my head. “They either really like you, or they think you’re my last ditch hope to ever find a man and are determined to make you like me .”
“I already like you,” he said, leaning a hip against the counter. “So your friends came in here while we were eating and cleaned the whole apartment? Because of me?”
“They did, yeah.” I checked the dishwasher. “Must have done it all by hand, too, because there’s nothing in here.”
I only ran the dishwasher maybe once a week, if that. Living alone and not being much of a cook meant I didn’t dirty a lot of dishes. The silverware ran low now and then, but that’s why I went out and bought an extra pack of forks.
“On the plus side,” he said, “it looks great.”
He wasn’t wrong. The apartment probably hadn’t been this clean since I moved in. But Trey had already seen the mess. At least what he could see from the front entry space. What exactly did they think this was going to achieve?
“It’s false advertising though. You already know what it looked like before.” Grabbing the tea towel they hung over the oven handle, I tossed it on the counter next to the sink, where I usually left it. “They shouldn’t be trying to trick you into thinking I keep the place like this.”
“If you had a roommate, would you keep it more like this?”
I snorted. “Not like this, no. But I’ve had roommates in the past and I did my part to keep the common areas clean.”
“Okay, then.”
Why did it sound like we’d just agreed on something. “Okay, then what?”
“Nothing. Could we talk for a while or do you want me to head out?”
I checked the time on the microwave to find it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. Since the house was clean, it wasn’t as if I had anything pressing to do. And who knew when the couch would be completely cleaned off again. Might as well take advantage while the opportunity was here.
“You can stay.” I opened the fridge and slid my cheesecake onto the empty top shelf. “I have water and pop, unless you want me to make some coffee.”
“I’ll take a pop, thanks. Should we sit on the couch?”
“Have at it,” I said, reaching into the back of the fridge for a cold can of Pepsi. “Do you want a glass?”
“No, thanks.” Trey took the offered drink and strolled over to the couch.
It was sort of odd seeing the place this way. Not having to move clothes or blankets to sit down was a rare occurrence, and I had to admit, the whole apartment felt physically lighter with the mess gone. Maybe not gone, because everything was still here, but organized. The irony was not lost on me. Everything in my classroom had a home and I made sure the kids put supplies back where they found them.
Yet, at home, the opposite was true. Things landed where they landed, and though I knew exactly where everything went, I made almost no effort to put them back there. Which explained why I could never find anything when I wanted it.
Grabbing a can for myself, I took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Trey, then saw a note on the coffee table. Leaning forward, I said, “This confirms it.”
“What’s that?” Trey leaned over the table and read the note aloud. “ We love you signed the girls. They really care about you.”
“They do,” I agreed, “but they also desperately want me to pair up now that they’ve each found a man. Donna went so far as to ask if I feel bad about them all having someone while I’m still single.”
Trey sat back down. “There’s nothing wrong with being single.”
“Exactly. Thank you.”
“Unless you don’t want to be.”
Scooting to the edge of the couch cushion, I attempted to pull off my boots. “I do want to be, but they can’t get that through their thick skulls because each of them wanted the exact same thing until the boys came along.”
“They all wanted to be single?”
“They did,” I mumbled, wrestling with my right boot and getting nowhere. “All for different reasons, but single all the same.”
After watching me struggle for several more seconds, Trey said, “I can help you with that.”
Frustrated, I flopped my leg onto the couch. “Yes, please. I remember now why I don’t wear these things that often.”
With a quick tug, the boot came right off. “Let me get the other one,” he said, gesturing toward my other foot. I obeyed and with a small tug, my foot was free. Folding one over the other, he placed them neatly at the end of the coffee table. “There you go.”
“Thank you.” I wiggled my toes. “That was much easier.”
Trey smiled. “Happy to be of assistance.”
Keeping my feet on the couch between us, I crossed my ankles and leaned an elbow on the back cushion. “I have to admit something.”
His brows arched. “What’s that?”
“I like you more than I want to like you.”
Why this confession came out now I didn’t know. I just knew that having him here, on my couch, was far more comfortable than I’d ever been with a guy. In the past, there’d been an odd buzz in the air. A tension of not knowing what they expected or what they were thinking. Did they approve of how I lived and talked and who I was?
In most cases, I’d eventually learn that the answer to all of those questions was no. Despite my best efforts to contort myself into what I thought they wanted, the end was always the same. I was too cold or too rational or too distant or too eighty other things. Relationships were a losing game, so I opted out. No more playing for me.
Until now.
“Do you think you’ll come around to wanting to like me?”
That felt like a distinct possibility. “Time will tell. I hope you really are the guy you’ve made yourself out to be, though. If not, this is going to suck. Again.”
The last part slipped out.
“Again?” he asked. With a sigh, I leaned my head on the back of the couch. Nudging my foot with his knee, he said, “We don’t have to talk about it.”
We did, actually. Because I’d rather know now if this would be a repeat of the past.
“I didn’t always have this no dating stance.” I toyed with a loose string on the shredded part of my jeans. “I dated like anyone else dates when I was in my twenties, and the relationships always ended the same way. Basically, I was the problem.”
“The problem how?”
Where to start? “I wasn’t affectionate enough or domestic enough. One couldn’t see me as the mother of his children because I’m too cold and distant. Another claimed he could never tell if I actually cared that he was around because I didn’t do cartwheels upon opening the door, I guess. Now that I think about it, one guy said I wasn’t adventurous enough, which doesn’t bode well for us considering what you said that day in the truck.”
After chucking every insecurity onto the couch between us, Trey remained silent, but there was a slight twitch in the muscle along his jawline. So this was probably where things ended. He’d likely still help with the play, but there wouldn’t be anything more personal between us. Not that I blamed him. Clearly, I was faulty goods.
“You went out with some real jerks,” he finally said.
“The common denominator was me, so…”
“Lindsey, don’t believe any of that crap. Those guys had insecurities and they took them out on you.”
His staunch defense was appreciated, but there was one important fact to remember. “You don’t know me, Trey. We’ve barely spent any time together for you to say one way or another if any of those claims are wrong.”
Instead of arguing, he crossed his arms and said, “How long did you date those guys?”
I had to think. “Some only a few weeks, and the longest was maybe a couple of months.”
“I’ve known you two and a half months, and I’ve talked to you at least five days a week for half that time. Did you see any of those guys as much as you’ve seen me since school started?”
“No.”
“Then I know you more than they did and I say they were wrong.”
How did I argue with that? “We’ve been coworkers and friends. You don’t know what I’m like in a relationship.”
Trey was not deterred. “You’re the realest person I know so I doubt you’re any different.” He turned, pulling one knee up onto the couch, and slid a hand under my heel to make room. “May I?”
The heat of his touch reached through the thin sock. “Sure,” I said, sounding breathless.
He pulled my foot up over his leg and gently massaged the ball of my foot with his thumb. My whole body went on red alert while relaxing at the same time. The conversation continued and I struggled to keep up as my brain was in danger of oozing out my ears.
“How long has it been since you dated one of those bozos?” he asked.
Swallowing a moan, I said, “Four years.”
His thumb paused but maintained the pressure against my foot. “You haven’t dated in four years?”
Whatever button he was pushing down there shut off my ability to talk, leaving me no option but to shake my head no.
“I thought I’d gone a long time.”
My head shot up. “What?”
Trey slid his thumb down the arch of my foot. “You aren’t the only one who took yourself off the market.”
How was I just now hearing this? “Since when?”
He tilted his head and looked up to the ceiling in thought. “Close to three years now.”
Unbelievable. “Why didn’t you mention this before? Everything has been about my refusal to date, when you were doing the same thing.”
“Not exactly the same. I have no problem with dating. I just decided not to casually date anymore. If I’m going to put myself out there, it has to be for someone worth my time and effort.”
That felt like a compliment. “So you’re saying I’m worth your time and effort?”
Trey squeezed my big toe. “That’s what I’ve been saying, yeah.”
The foot massage wasn’t the only thing melting my resistance.
“That’s nice to hear.” Smile in place, he watched me with brows high as if waiting for something. “What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said with a sigh and leaned forward to reach for his pop.
“Don’t do that. What am I missing?”
Eyes on the can, he shrugged. “I was hoping you’d say the same back, but I promised not to pressure you so forget about it.”
He was so cute when he was being needy. A thought I never in a million years could have imagined crossing my mind.
“Trey Collins, are you fishing for compliments?” I teased, repeating his own words from the night before.
“Forget I said anything,” he mumbled before taking a drink.
Swinging my feet to the floor, I scooted to the middle of the couch. “It’s still pretty early yet. Do you want to watch a movie?”
Looking down to see how close I was, he lifted bright blue eyes up to mine. “Do you have popcorn?”
What did he take me for? “Of course I do.”
Full lips curved up in a sexy grin. “What should we watch?”
Time for the true test. “I’ve got all the Jane Austen films.”
Eyes glowing, he said, “Can we start with Persuasion?”
A man after my own heart. “We can do that.”