Mr. Fiancé(106)

"So help me," I say, and Carrie looks around, nervous. "I'm serious, Carrie. I know I'm a jerk, and maybe I shouldn't have kissed you the way I did before the first game, but . . . well, I enjoy spending time with you. Three games, seven touchdowns caught, and it's because of your work with me. Well, I take that back. Some of it is because of your work with me. You're cooler than most of the assholes around this campus."

I'm warmed again when Carrie brushes a lock of her cornsilk blonde hair behind her ear, smiling shyly. I realize she doesn't know how hot she really is, maybe because of the weight loss, maybe because of her keeping her nose in the books too much. But as confident as she is academically or when it comes to training, she's just as shy and insecure in the social realm.

I take her hand. “Come on, Carrie. I promise I'll behave myself, all right?"

"All right," Carrie says, giving me a little smile, and we get to work. She's got a knack for explaining things, better than the teacher's aide who's been trying to get through to a lecture hall of fifty people who can barely understand what he's been saying, and the time flies. Carrie and I are both surprised when the chimes in the library ring, and we realize that we're only fifteen minutes from the library’s closing. "Whoa."

"Yeah," I say, laughing softly. "This has been the best study session I've ever had. And you do make it a lot more interesting than my major courses."

"Which are?" Carrie asks, then shrugs. "They didn't tell me. Coach Taylor just told me you asked for my help on a biology class."

"I'm a management major," I reply, putting my book back in my backpack. "I figure it'll teach me enough to keep my shit together next year when I'm in the pros. A little bit of business, a little bit of leadership, you know . . . stuff that could be useful."

Carrie nods and closes up her own backpack. "You're smarter than that, though. I've seen it. Why do you insist on limiting yourself to being just a football player?"

"I'm more than just a football player," I reply. "I'm an exceptional football player. But as to why . . . well, tell you what. Go out with me, and maybe I'll tell you."

Carrie shakes her head. “Not interested in a team party again. I already told you that."

Carrie goes to stand up, but I put my hand over hers, and she stops. "I'm serious, Carrie. No team party, no frat house, nothing like that," I say, and I'm surprised in that I actually am being honest. I want to spend time with her, not just find a way to fuck her. "Just you, me, and maybe a pizza? Stagglione's just off campus makes a pretty mean deep dish."

Carrie considers it for a moment, then shakes her head. "Nope." She sees the disappointment in my face and breaks out in a grin. "I don't like Stag's. But, if you make it the Bangkok House on the other side of campus, I might be tempted."

I grin, and the chimes play again. We've got five minutes to get out now. "Okay, Bangkok House it is. How about tomorrow night, say eight? I'd say Saturday, but after Clement, I might not be in the mood for a date."

"A date, huh?" Carrie teases as we walk toward the exit of the library. "Why, Duncan Hart, I think I might be the first girl in at least a semester you have actually asked out on a date, and not what your reputation says you normally invite girls to."

It's my turn to blush slightly, and Carrie takes my hand when we go outside, walking down the long steps to Allen Quad, and yeah, it's the same Allen that the stadium is named after. Being stupid levels of rich means you get to put your name all over the university you give your money to. "Well, I guess you could say that—”

"If you can keep yourself under control, I think a date with you might be a lot of fun," Carrie says, and suddenly, she gets onto her tiptoes, kissing me on the cheek. "Have a good night, Duncan. See you for taping tomorrow."

Carrie starts to walk away, but she turns and looks back. "By the way, I wouldn't worry about Clement," she says, just on the edge of the circle of light from the library lamps. "As good as you've been doing, they should be the ones worried."

"Who knew you were romantic?" I toss back, and Carrie laughs, giving me a wave. As she walks away, I notice that she's not wearing stuff as oversized as she used to. It's a subtle change, but I can start to see the faintest outlines of her dynamite figure in her clothes, and I watch until she disappears into the night, heading toward her dorm room. I shake my head, and I'm smiling as I get on my bike and fire it up, heading back to my apartment.

A date. For Thai food. God, I feel like such a goofball.