“I’m not into it either, but I’m kind of forced to post because of football. There are lots of fans who expect you to have a way to connect.”
I laugh. “Let me guess: shirtless mirror selfies with a towel, just to show off your abs?”
He bursts out laughing, drawing attention from people around us. “Not there yet—but hey, never say never.”
“I’ve missed our conversations, Ben.”
“I was hoping they’d be more than just conversations. But I’ll take your ‘no’ without holding a grudge.”
I don’t know what to say. And as if the universe decides to remind me that there’s no vacancy in my heart right now, a notification from Amos pops up—he’s already on campus.
I don’t even bother wondering how he knows where I am. As I walk, I’ve already noticed the bodyguards just a few meters behind me. They probably sent him a live location.
“Is that the guy who’s claimed the top spot in your heart?” Benjamin asks, nodding at my phone.
“I don’t really know what label to use for us yet. We’ve only been seeing each other for a short time.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me. I’m not upset, Lilly. I’m not in love with you or anything like that, I’m just being a bit spoiled, I guess. I’ve gotten used to getting whatever girl I want.”
“And that girl would be me?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
“Why not? You’re gorgeous. And I already know your criminal record.”
“I don’t have a criminal record, future lawyer.”
“FutureSupreme Court judge,” he corrects me.
“I thought you were following your dad’s footsteps into law.”
His face darkens immediately. “No. I’m going to be a Supreme Court judge,” he says like it’s a done deal.
“You do know it’s an appointed position, right?” I tease, since he seems so serious about it.
“Exactly. So mark today on your calendar—when I take office, you’ll be invited.”
“You’re not thinking of going pro in football?”
“No. I love the sport, but I know that long-term, it won’t fulfill me. Now, tell me about the guy who ran me off the road before I even had a chance with you.”
“He’s a friend of my brother’s.”
“Much older than you, then.”
“Yeah. Amos is thirty too.”
“I promise I’m not trying to badmouth the competition—”
“He’s not your competition. You and I are just friends.” I think, like he said himself, he’s got flirt mode on autopilot—but I don’t want any confusion, so I’m making it clear.
“Right, right, it’s kind of a reflex. Everyone’s a potential rival.”
“Well, someone’s got a healthy ego, Your Honor.”
“Back to your elderly boyfriend . . .”
Now I really start laughing, because that’s the last word anyone would use to describe Amos. If he’s elderly, I’m about to become a geriatrics enthusiast.
“There’s not much to say. We’re just at the beginning of whatever this is, and—”
