Boyfriend
Chapter seven
Aurora Driscoll
I toss my empty iced coffee cup into a trash can and contemplate how much effort it would take to throw Hayes in with it.
My eyes cut to the man in question, taking in his large muscular arms and tall stature as we walk through the library.
If I thought I could take him down, I would.
Or maybe not. He’d probably like it. And twist it into some evidence for me being in love with him.
After spending a little over an hour in his presence, I need to be far, far away from him. He took the session seriously enough but didn’t hesitate to throw in flirty quips where he could. Now he’s decided to walk me out. It’s like he lives to annoy me.
“Allow me, Your Highness,” Hayes croons, and jogs ahead to open the library door.
I glare at him as I pass through the doorway. Irrational anger springs up at how much taller than me he is. I’m taller than all my friends and used to matching the height of guys around me, but of course he has to tower over me.
“Haven’t you bothered me enough for today?” I grumble.
“You didn’t cut our meeting short, so I must not have been that bad,” he replies, and falls into step beside me.
“Your bar is—unsurprisingly—low.”
He grins, his green eyes crinkling at the corners.
“My standards are just different from yours. Now, where are you headed?”
“It’s this really great place called not telling you. The building is situated at the intersection of none of and your business.”
His responding chuckle makes my stomach swoop.
Ugh. Why does he have to have an affect on me?
I wish I were immune, but I’m no better than the rest of the girls on this campus.
Even if I don’t act on my dumb thoughts, that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I’m just a hair above Mckinleigh at this point.
My face wrinkles at the thought of her throwing herself in Hayes’s lap and combing her fingers through his auburn hair.
Who does that? Maybe it’s normal for Hayes, though.
I’m not used to that kind of unprompted physical affection. I barely hug my friends and family.
“It feels like I’m getting closer to that bar I set,” he muses. “I should probably leave before you give up on me.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re playing limbo with that bar and you know it.”
He laughs again, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. That’s when I feel my phone buzz in the pocket of my sweats. I pull it out and my mom’s name and face appear on the screen.
“I’ve gotta take this,” I tell him while hovering my thumb over the answer button.
“I guess that’s my cue,” Hayes says, and veers away from me, confirming he wasn’t headed in the same direction. “Tell your boyfriend I said hi.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say offhandedly as I press answer, thinking he’s done.
Hayes turns around so he’s walking backward.
“That’s good, because I’d hate to break up a relationship.”
“You don’t have nearly as much power as you think you do,” I reply, and his infuriating grin grows.
“I’ve got enough to keep your attention, and that’s all that matters.”
I’m about to reply when I hear a muffled voice saying, “Hello?”
My heart jumps. I forgot I answered the phone. Please, please, don’t let my mom have heard any of this conversation.
“Hey, sorry, Mom,” I say as I quickly pull it to my ear.
Hayes winks before turning around and walking away. I continue down the paved path through the quad to my apartment. I’ve got rehearsals in a little while, but it would be good to grab some food first. Jasmine meal-prepped over the weekend, so I know there will be plenty of options to grab.
“Were you talking to someone?” she asks, and I tip my head back in exasperation. “I thought I heard a boy.”
“I was talking to someone I’m tutoring,” I reply.
She sighs. “I was hoping you would have found a boy to date this semester.” Then her voice perks up. “But! I was talking to Michelle yesterday and she told me her son, Layton, just started at Georgia this semester. He’s a little younger than you, but that’s not really a big deal.”
“I told you I’m not interested in dating right now, Mom.” I grab the little ballet slipper pendant on my necklace. “I’m focused on dance and school and tutoring. I don’t have time to date.”
“That’s what I think the problem is, honey.”
I draw in a deep breath of autumn air and prepare myself for her well-meaning lecture.
Andrea Driscoll is the queen of good intentions.
She’s a great mom, and I wouldn’t trade her for anyone or anything, but she’s also more involved than I would like.
Especially when it comes to my social life.
She’s been trying to expand my circle of friends since elementary school.
It’s never resulted in anything but embarrassment for everyone involved.
Though I’m not sure if that’s her fault or mine.
I’ve never been great at making new friends. I’m not especially outgoing or exciting to talk to. Most people give up when they realize that.
“You really need to get out more. I don’t want you to look back on your college years and regret spending all your time working. It’s important to have balance,” she continues.
She said the same thing about middle school and high school.
“I live with three girls and we hang out a lot,” I remind her. “I’m sure I’ll end up at a few more parties this semester.”
Jasmine usually invites us to a few postgame parties during football season.
I turn her down most of the time, but occasionally I come along just to appease her as well as my parents.
It’s always too loud and sticky. I’ve never understood the appeal.
The most fun I ever had was when Jasmine’s boyfriend, Shepherd, punched a guy for touching her. That was basically a year ago now.
“And that’s all great! But I still think you could stand to go out on a date or two.”
Hayes’s face pops up in my mind. I bat the pesky thought away with a scowl.
Sure, I could go on a date with him, but it wouldn’t lead to anything good.
He’d flirt the entire time, then end the date by trying to kiss me.
I wouldn’t let him—because there’s no way I’m giving my first kiss to a guy like him—and he’d think I’m boring now that the chase is over.
He’d probably void our contract and find someone else to tutor him, too, just so he didn’t have to see me again.
“I’ll think about it. But I’m not going on a blind date with your friend’s son,” I say in a firm tone.
“Oh, but he’s so darling, Rory. He’s going to be an engineer—or was it an architect? Either way, he’s very smart. Can I at least send you a picture of him? Maybe his number, too, in case you think he’s cute.”
“Do you remember the last darling boy you set me up with?” I ask as I push into my apartment building. “It didn’t go well.”
It was the last time I let my mom interfere in my dating life.
She’d set me up with a different friend’s son.
He was a football player, and we met up at a local restaurant.
Except, when I got there, I found him with another girl.
Apparently, his mom had set up a few dates for him and thought it made sense to double-book the nights he didn’t have practice or a game since he had so few days off.
“This won’t be like that at all,” she rushes to reassure me. “Michelle said he got out of a relationship not that long ago, so he hasn’t been looking, and she talked to me first.”
I weave through the lobby, passing crowds of friends having dinner or playing games at various tables.
“It sounds like he doesn’t want a relationship either, Mom,” I say, trying to mask the frustration from my voice.
“You find love when you’re not looking for it.”
“I don’t think that’s what that phrase means.” My tone is wry.
“Would you just look at the photo and think about it?” she pleads. “Your dad and I are worried about you.”
Guilt pricks at my heart as always in these conversations. She cares and wants the best for me. We just have differing opinions on what that is.
I press the button to the elevator and wait.
“I’ll look at it,” I sigh. “But no promises that it will lead anywhere.”
An excited squeal comes through, making me wince. “Rob, she said yes!” she exclaims to my dad. “I’ll send it right away.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say even though I don’t feel very grateful. “I’ve gotta go, though. I need to get ready for rehearsals.”
“Okay, sweetie,” Mom chirps. “I’ll talk to you later this week. Have a good rehearsal! I love you.”
“Love you. Tell Dad and Eric I love them too.”
She confirms that she will and then we hang up.
Shortly after I step onto the elevator, my phone buzzes again.
This time with a text. I open the photo of Layton against my better judgment.
He looks … nice? He’s wearing a polo and khakis, smiling from his spot in front of a computer.
If he has any muscles, they’re not visible in this photo.
His hair is trimmed short and gelled up.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with him, but he’s not my type.
Though I suppose I’ve not dated enough to even know what my type is.
Again, I think of Hayes. And frown.
Why does he keep popping up everywhere I don’t want him to?