Chapter Five — Tessa #2
Paige watched both of us.
“Oh,” she said.
I handed the camera back.
“It’s fine.”
Rhett cleared his throat.
“Very natural.”
I looked at him.
He was smiling again.
But it was thinner now.
Defensive.
I knew because I had already identified the pattern.
“You’re nervous,” I said.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I’m standing in a hallway.”
“You joke when something gets too real.”
“That’s still your theory?”
“It keeps being right.”
He leaned closer.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Enough for me.
“Careful, Monroe.”
“With what?”
“You keep looking for the real version of me.”
His voice had changed.
Low.
Almost serious.
“You might find him.”
My heart gave one hard, disloyal beat.
Then Cam Dorsey appeared carrying a tray of mini muffins.
He looked at us.
Looked at the small amount of space between us.
Then grinned.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Rhett said.
“No,” I said.
Cam’s eyebrows rose.
“Healthy communication.”
I moved away.
Rhett reached for a muffin.
Cam pulled the tray back.
“These are for families.”
“I have a family.”
“Not here.”
“Emotionally, the team is my family.”
“That’s beautiful,” Cam said. “Still no.”
He walked away.
Rhett watched him go.
Then glanced at me.
“You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You look unsettled.”
“I’m managing an event.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I picked up the schedule from the registration table.
“We have twenty minutes before the rink tour.”
“Tessa.”
“Rhett.”
He waited.
I hated that he could do that.
Most people filled silence because silence made them uncomfortable.
Rhett filled it only when he wanted to hide.
When he wanted the truth, he became still.
“I’m fine,” I said.
He studied me.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Again.
No push.
No joke.
Just okay.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, I missed the joke.
Which was alarming.
We spent the next two hours moving through the event together.
Not pretending exactly.
That was the dangerous part.
We answered questions.
Directed families.
Helped a lost eight-year-old find his father near the hockey booth.
Rhett signed a program for a little girl wearing a jersey with his number.
She looked at me and asked, “Are you his girlfriend?”
I opened my mouth.
Rhett crouched beside her.
“She’s the boss.”
The girl nodded solemnly.
“That’s better.”
Rhett looked up at me.
“So I’ve been told.”
Later, his mother called.
I knew because his expression changed when he saw the screen.
Not fear.
Something softer.
He stepped aside to answer.
“Hi, Mom.”
I tried not to listen.
I failed.
“Yes, I’m at the event.”
Pause.
“No, the fire was small.”
Longer pause.
“Who sent you the picture?”
His gaze found mine.
I looked away.
“No, I’m not explaining this over the phone.”
Another pause.
His ears turned red.
That was interesting.
“Mom.”
I smiled.
He pointed at me.
A warning.
I smiled wider.
He turned away.
“No, you cannot invite her for Thanksgiving.”
I nearly dropped my clipboard.
He ended the call thirty seconds later and walked back toward me.
I waited.
He looked miserable.
I enjoyed that more than I should have.
“Thanksgiving?” I asked.
“She’s enthusiastic.”
“She invited a stranger to a family holiday.”
“She saw the photo.”
“And?”
“And apparently you look like someone who would appreciate her stuffing.”
“That is a very specific impression.”
“My mother is intuitive.”
“She raised you.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
I laughed.
A real one.
The sound surprised both of us.
Rhett stopped walking.
His face changed.
There it was again.
That look.
Like he had been trying to win something and suddenly forgot how to celebrate.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“I’ve laughed before.”
“Not at me.”
“I laugh at you constantly.”
“You mock me.”
“There’s overlap.”
He stepped closer.
“Do it again.”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“I’m not performing.”
“I’ll say something funny.”
“You say a lot of things.”
“Most of them are charming.”
“Debatable.”
He grinned.
And there he was again.
The easy version.
The safe version.
The one everyone knew.
Except now I knew what came before it.
A pause.
A flash of uncertainty.
The smallest glimpse of someone underneath.
I looked at him too long.
He noticed.
Of course.
His smile faded slightly.
“What?”
I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
“You’re thinking.”
“That accusation again?”
“You do it with your eyebrows.”
“My eyebrows are private.”
“Not anymore.”
Before I could answer, Dean Walsh called my name.
He stood near the main doors with the head of university communications.
Both looked pleased.
Too pleased.
I walked over.
Rhett followed.
“The event is a success,” Dean said. “Attendance is up eighteen percent from last year.”
Relief moved through me so quickly my knees weakened.
Paige appeared beside us.
“We did it?”
“We did,” I said.
Dean smiled.
“University communications would like to feature the two of you in Monday’s campus newsletter.”
My relief vanished.
“The two of us?” I asked.
“The repair effort. Student leadership. Athletics partnership.”
Rhett nodded.
“Sounds harmless.”
I looked at him.
Nothing involving Rhett Callahan had been harmless so far.
The communications director held up her tablet.
“We’d also like to use the photo from this morning.”
Of course they would.
“The one in front of the banner?” I asked.
“Yes. It tested extremely well.”
“Tested?”
“With the preview group.”
There had been a preview group.
For our fake relationship.
Rhett’s mouth moved.
He was trying not to laugh.
I stepped on his foot.
He coughed.
Dean continued.
“We may also use it in social promotion for next weekend’s charity skate.”
I turned.
“What charity skate?”
Rhett’s expression went blank.
That was not promising.
The communications director smiled.
“The annual Wolves Skate with the Community event.”
Dean looked between us.
“Given today’s response, it would be wonderful if you both participated.”
There it was.
The consequence.
One fake day becoming another event.
Another photo.
Another round of questions.
I opened my mouth to decline.
Rhett spoke first.
“We’d love to.”
I stared at him.
He kept smiling at Dean.
His hand found mine.
Not my back this time.
My hand.
His fingers threaded through mine like it was easy.
Like we had done it before.
Like the entire campus had not just shifted beneath my feet.
Dean looked delighted.
“Wonderful.”
The communications director made a note.
Paige looked at our joined hands.
Then at me.
I looked at Rhett.
He finally glanced down.
As if he had only just realized what he had done.
Neither of us moved.
For one long second, his thumb rested against my pulse.
Then Dean walked away.
The communications director followed.
Paige backed up slowly.
“I’m going to leave before this becomes a conversation.”
“Coward,” I said.
“Correct.”
She disappeared into the crowd.
I looked at Rhett.
He still had my hand.
“You volunteered me.”
“You were about to say no.”
“Yes.”
“It helps the event.”
“The event is over.”
“It helps next semester’s funding.”
I hated that he was right.
“You should have asked.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
His gaze dropped briefly to our hands.
Then lifted again.
“Because if I asked, you might have said no.”
“That is not a defense.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“It isn’t.”
I pulled my hand free.
The absence of contact felt immediate.
Which made me angrier.
“At least tell me why you said yes.”
He could have joked.
He almost did.
I saw it gather behind his eyes.
Then he stopped himself.
“You looked happy when Dean said attendance was up.”
I frowned.
“So?”
“So I wanted you to keep looking like that.”
The noise of the event pressed around us.
Families.
Music.
Announcements over the arena speakers.
But the space between us went still.
That was not flirting.
Not the kind he used with everyone.
It was worse.
Because I believed him.
I tightened my grip on the clipboard.
“One more event,” I said.
His expression warmed.
“One more.”
“No more volunteering me.”
“Agreed.”
“No sweetheart.”
He considered it.
“Publicly?”
“Anywhere.”
“That seems extreme.”
“Rhett.”
“Fine.”
“No unnecessary touching.”
His eyes moved to my hand.
“Define unnecessary.”
I should have answered.
Instead, I remembered his thumb against my pulse.
The photograph.
His hand at my back.
The way he had held mine onstage before I could be afraid.
“That,” I said, “is exactly why we need rules.”
His mouth curved.
Not the big smile.
The quieter one.
“The Flirt Rule?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What is the Flirt Rule?”
“Still developing.”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
“You never do at first.”
He walked backward toward the hockey booth.
I pointed after him.
“That confidence is going to hurt you someday.”
He grinned.
“Probably.”
Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
I looked down at the event schedule.
Every box was checked.
Every problem solved.
The showcase was a success.
My funding was safe.
And somehow, I had agreed to another public appearance with Rhett Callahan.
One more event.
One more favor.
One more chance for the entire campus to believe something that was not true.
The problem was no longer that everyone else believed it.
The problem was that when he held my hand—
for one second, I had too.