Unspoken(59)

“I’m not, you know.” Bo shifted again, moving his legs away as much as the small space would allow.

“Not what?” I was staring at Bo’s legs. Even through the worn denim, you could see his muscular thighs flex as he pushed to give himself more room and to make space for my legs. His hands, which had originally been loosely clasped between his legs, were now resting on said thighs. They were big hands with long fingers. I wondered how they would feel on my face, holding my hand, cupping me around my waist. Safe, I thought. You’d feel safe inside the circumference of his arms. But then I reminded myself that he’d only be good for a roll in the hay one time and then he’d be off to another conquest.

“What do you want from me, Bo?” His face was unreadable.

“I like being with you,” Bo admitted. “You keep me occupied.” He tapped his head.

“We’re always arguing.”

He waved his hand. “That’s not real arguing. We’re just having fun, and you know it.”

Reaching across our chairs, he placed one of those large hands on my own. “Don’t be mad at Ellie. She didn’t reveal this information easily.”

“She still sold me out.” I stared at that hand, wanting to clasp it in return. Instead, I withdrew it. Bo wasn’t going away any time soon, so all I could do was ignore him. I pulled out my textbook and settled in to study, only to be interrupted a few seconds later.

“You an economics major?”

I closed my book with deliberate slowness, keeping one hand inside as a bookmark. “Yes.”

Bo shifted again, the living embodiment of the Newton theory of physics. I looked him over with some thoroughness, taking in his bright blue eyes, down past his muscular chest, to the unopened math book in his lap. He was holding a pen that he flipped through one finger and then under the other, making it dance on his knuckles. Yes, Bo was a body in motion, constantly moving.

“I bet you drove your Mom crazy.”

This statement elicited a short laugh. Bo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It brought his face up close and I could see the long, light-colored eyelashes that framed his upper lids. A scar ran from just under his hairline on the right down to his temple. I hadn’t seen that before. My fingers itched to trace the path. I pressed my free hand on top of the book, to keep them both trapped. I shouldn’t be touching Bo’s face, ever.

Here was the secret of Bo’s success. The outward package drew you in and the layered complexities that seemed at odds with his flighty persona kept you engaged. I wanted to pull back those layers to find out what made him tick.

“I was a troublemaker. I don’t know who was more relieved when I enlisted. My momma or the town.”

“I’m sure it was neither.”

Bo opened his mouth as if to disagree and then shut it. “Do you know why I only do hookups?” His sudden change of conversation topics surprised me.

“No, why?” I sighed.

“Because relationships require work and introspection. I don’t like to spend time inside my head. It’s not a good place.” He fisted his hands and then splayed them out wide. “All any girl has ever wanted from me is to make them feel good for a short time, and I can do that. I want to do that. I’ve fucking perfected that. But the rest—having something real and lasting in my life? No.”

“I got that message over dinner. You’re only here for a good time,” I recited. “But you know, Bo, I’ve heard that you put a lot of effort into romancing the girls, if you want to.”

“What story is this?”

“That you serenaded a sorority girl last year after winter formal.”

“Shit, you must be kidding. The guys at home won’t let me open my mouth when the music is on.”

“So what happened?” I challenged.

“The TKE winter formal was held at a hotel adjacent to a bar where we were drinking. We kind of crashed it. Adam took one of the band member’s guitars during a break and we all sang along.”

“What? That wasn’t what I heard at all. That version is pretty lame, if you ask me.”

He laughed. “Tell me what you heard.”

“I heard you drove over to the TKE house and played ‘If You Love Me’ on a loop from your convertible until the sorority girl came out, with her white dress billowing behind her. Maybe there was a glass slipper left on the stairs. I can’t remember.”

Bo was laughing at this. “First, I don’t have a convertible and wow, I sound like a total douche bag. How is this rumor helping my reputation?”

“It’s not a douche bag move.” I took a sip of my coffee. “It’s totally a Lloyd Dobbler, Say Anything move. John Hughes could have scripted that.”