“No one.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Truly?”
I pick at my burger. Fucking tomatoes. “Yep.”
“But why? You’re…you, and everyone wants to be a bleacher girl—or so I’ve heard.”
I push my food away. “Saving myself.”
“For marriage? Waiting till you’re a middle-aged has-been who peaked in high school?” She chuckles.
“No.”
“Ah, I get it. Some lucky girl under the bleachers at the first game of senior year. Sweet. Good plan. Typical top Shark behavior. Anticipation…then wham bam, thank you ma’am! Drawing it out.”
A slow blush crawls up from my neck to my cheeks. I still don’t jive with her seeing me. “You gonna come spy on me? Don’t even try. This girl doesn’t do bleachers.”
“Ohhhhhhh, this is good.” She leans in over the table, pushing her plate aside. Turquoise eyes glisten with mirth. “Are you…are you a bit of a romantic, Fort Knox?”
I laugh. “What defines a romantic?”
“Secretly loves rom-coms, listens to moody songs about unrequited feelings, writes pretty love letters and leaves them in girls’ lockers.”
My chest constricts sharply—it feels like I can’t breathe.
She impatiently taps her fingers on the table, and I wait a full minute before answering her.
“Now, Tulip, does that sound like me? I’m just a muscled-up football player who might be a bit dim with too much money, an elitist attitude, and a long line of girls who can’t keep their hands off of me. I mean, can you imagine me writing love letters? I’d just text her.” I pause, taking a sip of my drink. “By the way, someone plastered my number in the girls’ bathroom this week. Knox Grayson’s real cell number. You’re welcome, is what it said. Little hearts all around it. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“How terrible. Man, you can’t trust anyone these days. Who on earth would do that to you?”
“Ah, Tulip. Don’t pretend. I’m going to have to get you back for that.”
She blushes, not even denying it. “Did anyone call?”
“Hmmm. Twenty texts last night. A few this afternoon. Guess I’ll need a new phone.”
Her face explodes in a huge grin as she slaps her hand on the table. “I’m not sorry. Not even a little.”
“Minx.”
“Guess you aren’t too pissed at me?”
I arch a brow. I was angry when the texts first started coming in, but it only took a little inquiry in reply to one of them to figure out where it came from, and by then it was obvious who the culprit was. Shit, I can’t even be mad at her.
Her eyes flash at me, holding mine. “Back to this girl you’re waiting on—does she go to Camden?”
“Mmmm.”
She pouts. “That’s a noncommittal answer, Fort Knox. Come on, tell me. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“You can’t be trusted with a phone number!”
She laughs.
Lou places down the tab in the middle of the table, and Ava and I both dive for it at the same time. “This is mine,” I say as we both pull on it.
She tugs. “You are not paying. This was my idea!”
I give it a pull. “I totally manipulated you into eating with me. You didn’t even want to hang out with me, but I wore you down.”
“You did—asshole—but I’m paying!”
“No girl pays for me, and I have money—”
“So do I! I work!”
“I know you do! Why are we yelling?” I gasp out.
“I don’t know!” She picks up a fry and tosses it in my face, and when I bat it away, she pounces forward, takes the bill, and waves it at Lou, who’s watching us with his head cocked. “I’m paying, Lou! Don’t let this rich preppy jerk give you money, you feel me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he rumbles then turns to go back to the front. “Don’t take the boy’s money. Let me get on that right away.”
I shrug, holding my hands up. “I give up. You win. I’ll get it next time.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, just rises and gathers her things. I follow her to the front where she pays our tab, gives Lou and the girl behind the grill a hurried hug, and joins me at the door.
We walk out into the night air. Our arms brush, and for once I don’t pull away.
“You wanna ride with me?” I hear myself offering, then regret it. Shit.
She turns to look at me, and I get tense, my palms sweating again, that anxious feeling sticking to me. I think about her sitting in my car with me, the close proximity, the way her hair smells, like vanilla, and how close her arm would be to mine—
“I better not,” she murmurs. “It would be out of your way to come back over here instead of hitting the interstate to get back to Sugarwood.”
“I don’t mind.”
Why can’t I shut up?
Shit, is this me? Shuffling my feet on the gravel, looking at a girl, and wishing…
“I’ll meet you there,” she finally says, her hands clenching the straps of her backpack.
Does it bother her to imagine being alone in a car with me?
I exhale. “Okay. See you there.”
“Try to keep up with me and Louise,” she calls as she sashays away.
“Louise?” My eyes devour her ass. Shapely. Pert. Perfect. I tear my gaze away.
“My car! Named her after Lou!” She gets in and drives away, and I pull out and follow her.
12
After parking, I turn the corner on the Vanderbilt campus, and she’s already waiting for me. Somewhere in the traffic, I lost her car, and I make a note to be sure I follow her out to wherever she’s parked.
It’s not quite dark yet, so I have a good view, and she hasn’t seen me yet. She’s sitting on the steps in front of a fountain, her head tilted down as she scrolls on her phone. As if she feels me looking, she glances up and pushes a strand of hair out of her face.
“Dude. Why are you just standing there? Come on!” She waves me over.
I huff out a laugh and jog toward her.
“What’s in the backpack? It looks bulky,” she asks, eyeing me.
“Laptop and a surprise.”
“Ohhhh, what is it?”
Her eyes gleam, and now I’m worried she won’t like it.
“Just snacks.”
“Caviar? A good merlot? Perhaps some canapés or cucumber sandwiches?”
“Shut up, Tulip. I brought Snickers and Tic Tacs.”
“Classy.” She grins. “We’ll have to be sneaky—no food allowed.”
I watch her eyes, feeling a buzz in my blood with all the eye contact between us tonight. Usually, over the years, our eyes have met in those short once-overs where we both look away or the long glances from me to her when she’s not looking.
We walk through the open doors of the library and she lets out a little sigh as she takes in the grand foyer, the massive rows of books, the front desk.
I’m watching her—can’t help it. I’m in Ava overload. “You love this place.”
She nods, almost shyly. “It’s a dream to come here. Vandy rarely gives full scholarships, so it’s not likely I’ll be able to afford it, but it would be amazing. They have a killer pre-med program here.” With a deep exhalation, she does a full pirouette and smiles. “Come on, I know where the study rooms are.”
“I get it now. You feel comfortable here and at Lou’s—that’s why you agreed to watching the movie here.”
She shrugs, and I follow her up three flights of stairs until we get to a quiet area—though aren’t they all? This one has cubby areas and small rooms lining the walls. In the middle are tables with students reading or working on their laptops.
She takes the lead and we circle the area while she peers into various rooms.
“All the bigger rooms are taken, so we’ll have to take one of the smaller ones.”
“It’s just the two of us. It will be like we’re in class,” I say.
Only we’ll be alone.
She clears her throat. “Right. This one, then.” She nods at a small space to the right with just enough room for a desk and—
“Dang it. There’s only one chair.” Her arms cross.
“Wanna sit in my lap?” I say the words, but I don’t mean them. It’s a joke. Right?
She flushes. “No. You wanna sit on the floor?”
“I don’t mind. I can drag a chair in here from somewhere,” I offer.
She mulls that over and looks around. Most of the chairs at the tables are taken, and the ones that aren’t have books sitting where a person isn’t.
“We came all this way, and we aren’t just going to give up because we don’t have a chair. The small room is fine. I promise to not touch you.”
“I know. You never touch me,” she murmurs.
A whoosh of air comes out of me, but she isn’t paying attention as she walks inside ahead of me.
“It’s perfect.” I set my laptop on the desk then plop down on the carpeted floor with my back to the wall. “You take the chair. I’ll sit behind you.”
She bites her lips, her hair dipping down. Her eyes glow when she looks up. “You’re so mean.”
“Moi? Why?” I ask dryly.
“Because you brought Snickers and what you really want is for me to sit far, far away so you can eat them all.”