Ruin .(42)

    “What?” He licked his lips and spread his salad around his plate like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat it or just torture it.

    “We don’t have to read anymore. I mean, I know you have other friends, and it has been every lunch and—”

    “Stop.” He rolled his eyes and gave me that sexy grin I was so used to. “I was just upset about Mansfield Park. I don’t really like that story. How about you pick something else and we’ll get started in on it after Thanksgiving break?”

    “Okay.” I smiled when he looked at me, but it was hollow. I could feel that it didn’t reach my eyes. “Are you okay?”

    “Of course,” he said, almost too fast as he gave me another fake grin and cleared his throat. “Just got a lot of work to do before break, you know?”

    “Oh.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “Right, yeah, I have a lot of homework too.”

    “Between that and practice…” A shadow fell over his face. “I don’t know. You know how you have rough days?”

    “Yeah.” I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. “We all do. It’s good to know you’re not perfect.”

    “So far from it.” He reached for my hand and kissed it. “I uh, do sort of have a favor to ask you though.”

    “Okay.” I shifted in my seat, suddenly nervous that he was going to ask me to not see him again or do something crazy and start dating, which actually wouldn’t be the first time he’d suggested it. A month ago he jokingly encouraged me to go on a date. I’d slammed the door in his face, and he spent the afternoon apologizing. So right, I overreacted, but it hurt my feelings. I mean, guys weren’t that dense, were they? Couldn’t he tell I liked him? As in, a lot more than he liked me?

    I clenched my hands tightly in my lap and waited for the inevitable.

    “Will you spend Thanksgiving break with me and my dad?”

    So not what I was expecting.

    “Huh?”

    “Nothing, never mind.” He reached for his tray and started to stand, but I grabbed his wrist.

    “Wes, I’m not saying no, I just didn’t expect that.”

    “Yeah?” His hands were shaking, either he was nervous or coming down with something. “What were you expecting?”

    “Oh, you know… for you to try to set me up on another date and hurt my feelings.”

    Wes laughed loudly, earning the attention of people around the cafeteria. “Right. I think I learned my lesson last time, don’t you?”

    I shrugged.

    “Shit.” He let out a heavy sigh and grabbed my hand. “You know I like you, I just—”

    “—don’t date freshman.” I cleared my throat nervously.

    “And don’t want Gabe to kick my ass.”

    “Please!” I rolled my eyes. “Like he could kick your ass.”

    His eyes clouded over before he gave me another heart-stopping smile. “I’ll tell you what.” He leaned in. “We’ll date.”

    “What?”

    “For two weeks.” He grinned and held up two fingers. “For two weeks you’re mine. We’ll date, we’ll hold hands — more than we do now.” He brushed his thumb over my knuckles as he searched my eyes. “And at the end of two weeks, you’ll realize I’m not as cool as you think I am, and move on to greener pastures.”

    I felt my eyes narrow. “Is there a catch?”

    “Of course.” He laughed and tightened his grip on my hand as he leaned in. “You have to come home with me for the first week. That’s Thanksgiving break, and then…” He stood, pushing his chair away from the table and got down on both knees. “And then you have to promise to be my date for Homecoming.”

    My mouth dropped open.

    Was Weston Michels — football god — celebrity — holy hunk of hotness — on his knees in front of me asking me, not only to meet his dad, but to go to Homecoming?

    “Kind of uncomfortable down here.”

    I laughed and helped him to his feet throwing my arms around his neck. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”