Chapter 5
Assistance Not Needed
Ryan
Me: Hey.
Charlie: Hi.
Me: Can I see you tonight?
Charlie: Sorry. I can’t. It’s The Bachelorette night. It’s kind of a tradition.
Me: You realize that’s all fake, right?
Charlie: OMG! It is! Oh, what shall I do?
Me: I’m sensing sarcasm here.
Charlie: Who me? Never! ;)
Charlie: I’m not meeting them till 7. We could get a coffee or something before?
Me: Sounds great! I’ll pick you up at 6?
Charlie: I’ll meet you there. Coffee hut?
Me: Sure. See you then.
To say I rushed out of work would be an understatement.
I hauled ass out that door at five on the dot—Gave J.T.
a vague excuse about having an appointment and bolted.
He probably knows I’m full of shit, but I don’t care.
What I do care about is not smelling like I just stepped out of a bike shop, with a crapped-out AC in the middle of July, when I see Charlie.
So, I flew home, took the fastest shower of my life and raced across campus to arrive at the Coffee Hut ten minutes early.
I was pretty pleased with myself, especially when I realized I was going to have to wait a bit for a table since the place was packed.
Once I’ve scored us a great little table, right by the window and away from the ever-present line, I try to sit back in my padded chair and enjoy the rich coffee aroma while I wait.
Problem is, now that I’m no longer rushing around, my nerves are kicking in, and all my stupid hang-ups begin beating around inside of my head.
Why doesn’t she want me to pick her up? Is she embarrassed for her parents to meet me?
I mean, I get it. I’m not exactly the “take home to meet mama” kind of guy.
Maybe I’ve been reading this whole thing wrong, and she isn’t as serious about us as I am.
No point in getting Mom and Dad all freaked out over a guy you’re just having a little fun slumming with, right?
Christ, she probably doesn’t even realize how big a slum-hole she’s climbed into with me.
I’m a college student and on the football team.
For all she knows, my long hair and tats could be some middle-class jack-off rebellion.
She probably has no idea the sort of family I come from.
I can’t even imagine what she’ll think when she meets my brothers.
Garret’s a nut job—especially when meeting new people.
It’s like he’s testing everyone to see how much bullshit they’re willing to take.
And Trey’s just fucking scary. A sweet girl like Charlie wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like J.T.
’s, and that’s pretty much where I spent my whole fucking childhood.
Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea. That’s why I stayed away from her all this time.
Wanting her from afar was painful, sure, but nowhere near as painful as it’ll be to have her, then lose her once she realizes I’m not good enough.
I don’t even notice that I’ve dropped my head into my hands until a gentle stroke across my back shocks me out of my stupor.
I bolt upright to find Charlie gazing down at me, a soft smile playing across her beautiful lips.
She’s wearing a simple red tank and jean shorts that hug her curves to perfection, and the memory of that body pressed against mine has my heart doing a rolling dive into my stomach.
“Hey,” I say, my voice a breathy whisper.
Her smile falters. “Is everything alright?”
I shove to my feet, the chair legs scraping against the hardwood floor as it skitters out from under me. “Yeah.” I force myself to smile. “Of course. I... Uh… didn’t know what you’d want, or I would have gotten it for you.”
“That’s okay. I’ll go order it.” She turns for the counter.
“No,” I say, stopping her with a hand on her arm. Jesus, she’s so tiny, I could wrap my hand completely around her bicep. “Sit down. I’ll get it.”
The corner of her lip pulls up into a half smile. “You don’t need to do that.”
“I know,” I say, my hand tingling from where it makes contact with her skin. I run my fingers down the length of her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. Taking her delicate hand in mine, I stroke the center of her palm with my thumb. “I want to.”
It takes a few seconds to tear my gaze away from the perfection of her hand and meet her striking green eyes.
She’s giving me a look I can’t decipher—something between arousal and shock.
Am I being too forward? After what we did outside of the ice cream shop yesterday, I thought a little PDA would be alright, but maybe I was wrong.
It was dark and kind of happened in the heat of the moment.
I release her hand, immediately regretting the loss of her soft warmth.
She tells me what she wants—tea, not coffee. I tuck that little golden nugget away and get in line to order.
When I return, I find James something-or-other, one of the big wigs with that frat where Charlie got attacked, sitting in my chair talking to Charlie.
Now, I wouldn’t generally call myself the jealous type, but that asshole needs to get the fuck out of my chair before I knock that douchey smile off his face.
“James,” I say, by way of greeting as I hand Charlie her tea. She gives me a smile that’s so forced, her teeth look ready to crack from the pressure. What the hell was he saying to her?
“Oh, hey. I didn’t see you there,” James the douchebag replies.
That’s because you were too busy hitting on my girl.
“What do you need, James?” I’m trying to keep my voice calm, but I’m crap at hiding my emotions so my tone comes out sounding just short of “I’m going to cut you up into little pieces and run you through a woodchipper.”
James’s eyes flit about nervously. Well, what do you know? Little Jamie’s not as stupid as he looks.
Before James can answer, Charlie says, “He wants me to retract my statement to campus police.”
I think my brows have officially breached my hairline.
I don’t know why I’m so surprised. This is entitled asshole 101.
God forbid the guy actually has to deal with the repercussions of his actions.
“And tell me, James,” I say, punctuating his name.
“Because I’m a little unclear on this. Why the fuck should she do that? ”
Trembling fingers slip into my hand and squeeze.
I look down expecting Charlie to tell me to back off, but instead, she’s smiling warmly at me, her eyes saying thank you without words.
I don’t understand how a man could look at someone as sweet and fragile and remarkable as Charlie and see that as something to take advantage of, when every instinct in my body tells me she should be protected and cherished and…
Fuck. I am so gone for this girl.
Douchebag James (it has a nice ring to it) doesn’t seem to understand how rhetorical questions work because he stupidly answers. “We all understand how upsetting this has been—”
“Really?” Charlie says with a don’t fuck with me attitude.
That’s my girl.
She cocks her head and asks, “Has anyone ever tried to rape you?”
“Well… uh... Of course not…” He laughs nervously
“Then, I don’t see how you could possibly understand what it’s like to be physically overpowered and sexually assaulted.”
James is staring at Charlie with this stupefied expression on his face, and I seriously want to kiss this girl right now.
James clears his throat, his car salesman bravado diminishing a bit. “What I mean is that he’s been thoroughly reprimanded, and this can only come back to hurt the frat and we were hoping—”
“I have a question,” I say. Still holding Charlie’s hand, I fold my free arm across my chest. “Did you throw him out of the frat?”
James draws back as if shocked I would even ask the question. “Uh… No, we can’t. He’s a legacy,” he stammers, quickly adding, “but he was reprimanded.”
“You keep saying that word,” I say, and keeping my eyes glued on James’s, I slowly lift my cup and take a sip of coffee.
It’s an intimidation technique I’ve seen Trey use.
I might not be as frightening as my brother, but to this douche, I might as well be.
“What exactly does that even mean? You gave him a stern talking to?”
That last part was intended to be a lousy joke, but James nods.
I sigh and take another sip of coffee, giving myself a minute to calm down before I rip this guy a new asshole, but Charlie beats me to it.
“I’ll tell you what,” she says, and she’s got both mine and James’s full attention.
She’s not actually making some sort of deal with this jerk?
“You leave now and never bother me again,” she says, “and I won’t go straight to Dean Hawthorn, who’s a friend of my father’s by the way, and tell him how you tried to harass me into dropping the charges against your frat member.
I can’t imagine he would be too keen to hear how your frat leaders were complicit in trying to cover up a sexual assault committed by one of your brothers, in your house. Hmm?”
Damn. I think I’m in love.
James stares at her, mouth gaping and eyes bugging out of his head.
“And get out of my seat, asshole,” I say, kicking the leg of his chair.
He hops up, muttering something that sounds a little like, “Sorry to have bothered you,” and makes a beeline for the door.
I take my seat and rest our joined hands on the table between us. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
She gives me a great big, beautiful smile. “I guess it’s easier to be brave when you have someone backing you up.”
I’m grinning back at her like an idiot, but I can’t help it. “Thanks, but I don’t think you needed me.”
“No.” She shakes her head, her expression darkening. “I was panicking, but then you came back and…” She trails off. A blush spreads across her cheeks and her gaze drops to the steaming paper cup. She takes a sip and hums softly in appreciation. “This is perfect.”
Oh no. I’ve got to hear what she was going to say now. “And?” I duck my head, trying to catch her averted gaze. “What were you going to say, Charlie?”
She turns away from me. “It’s stupid.”
“I seriously doubt that.” I have no idea why I’m pushing so hard on this. It’s not like she’s going to suddenly confess her love.
She shrugs. “I guess, I just felt more confident with you here.” She takes another sip of her tea and sets down the cup. “You make me feel safe.”
I sag back into my seat and sip my coffee, taking a moment to enjoy the hit of bittersweet bliss, while I work to absorb what she said.
I make her feel safe. Nobody’s ever said that to me before.
She is safe with me. More than safe because I’d do anything to protect her.
But hearing her say that—shit—it affects me in a way, I’m not sure I can even describe.
So, I do what any emotionally stunted guy would do.
I change the subject. “Does your dad really know the dean?”
Her eyes take on a mischievous gleam. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Yep. I’m totally screwed.