She shook her head as though she couldn't imagine it. "What happened?"
"Algebra II. I got benched because I was flunking math the fall semester of my junior year. My mom was actually happy because I'd had my second concussion that season." He could still hear his parents arguing as they'd stood in his hospital room. His mom had insisted that he quit football then and there, and his father asked what the hell else his son was good for.
The point had become moot when his Algebra II grade had dipped below passing and he'd been temporarily benched. In need of a tutor, he'd met Tate, a dweeb of the highest order. For whatever reason, something between them had clicked, and they'd fallen into a friendship that had shaped the rest of his life.
"Did you pass?" She sent a curious little smile his way that almost looked flirty.
He would never forget the way it felt when Mr. Zimmer had passed him that final exam. "Ended up with a B. I went on to take calculus. I switched from the normal track to honors classes and I went to college on a scholarship. I thank Tate for that. He taught me that I was smart."
"And what did you teach him?"
"That he was more than the sum of his knowledge." He'd been Tate's first real friend. "His parents hate me to this day because they believe I swayed him to the dark side-in other words, girls."
"Did you?" Annabelle looked amused.
"No. Tate was always interested in females. He just didn't think he had a shot. I helped him improve his chances."
"By sharing girls with him?"
"Not at first. To begin, we started working out together after school. I taught him how to dress. I still haven't been able to impart any level of smooth talk to him, but it's cool. I'm not sure I'd know what to do with a Tate who didn't shove his foot in his mouth three times a day."
"I like how honest he is." She swayed as the music changed to a slower beat. "I can always trust what he says because he can't be bothered to lie. Of course it also means that when I ask him if I look fat in a pair of jeans, I get a percentage. He told me I only looked three percent larger and then went on to explain how the cut of the jeans slightly added to the visual footage. I didn't understand his calculation, but I stopped buying boot cut jeans anyway."
That was Tate in a nutshell. "He didn't mean to make you feel bad."
"He didn't. He also said that given my relative dimensions, such a low percentage of change in perceptive body mass did not diminish my attractiveness."
Eric couldn't help but laugh. That was how Tate would tell a woman he thought she was hot.
He caught sight of his friend, who stood just off the dance floor, obviously watching them and waiting. Would Belle be shocked by what they wanted?
"I'm glad everything worked out for you two. It's just not working as well for me. I think I might go back to design." She said the words so quietly he strained to hear her.
"What do you mean? On the side?" She already worked pretty late hours. If they were in the office, she tended to stay, too. He wasn't sure how she would work in a hobby.
"No. I'm thinking about making a change. I guess I should warn you guys. This just isn't what I wanted to do with my life. It's not that I don't like my job, and you all are great, but I need something more. I watch you, Kell, and Tate. You have purpose. You're doing what feeds your soul. I need to find that something for me."
He had to force himself not to stop in the middle of the dance floor. "You're telling me you're quitting?"
That wasn't supposed to happen. Eric tried not to panic. They needed her close. Nothing would work if they didn't see her daily. Now, he might not see her at all.
How the hell had this happened?
"No, I'm not quitting. I mean, not yet. I need to find the courage to find another design job or go out on my own. Wow, I just realized how mercenary I sounded. I'm not trying to use you. Like I said, I like all three of you. I just need a career I love." She was the one who stopped, her feet seeming to plant on the floor beneath her. Her gorgeous face twisted in regret. "I shouldn't have said anything. This whole wedding has me throwing myself a pity party. Please don't fire me."
He felt like he'd been tossed into the middle of a hurricane. One minute she was quitting, and the next he was going to fire her? He felt his control slip. Crap, he had to get himself together. He couldn't rely on hotheaded Kellan. And Tate wouldn't know the words "emotional control" if they whacked him in the face. Somewhere in the back of his head, Eric knew they were all in trouble if he lost it, but he couldn't seem to help himself.