Damn. I think I’m in love.
James stares at her, mouth gaping and eyes bugging out of his head.
“And get out of my seat, asshole,” I say, kicking the leg of his chair.
He hops up, muttering something that sounds a little like, “Sorry to have bothered you,” and makes a beeline for the door.
I take my seat and rest our joined hands on the table between us. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
She gives me a great big, beautiful smile. “I guess it’s easier to be brave when you have someone backing you up.”
I’m grinning back at her like an idiot, but I can’t help it. “Thanks, but I don’t think you needed me.”
“No.” She shakes her head, her expression darkening. “I was panicking, but then you came back and…” She trails off. A blush spreads across her cheeks and her gaze drops to the steaming paper cup. She takes a sip and hums softly in appreciation. “This is perfect.”
Oh no. I’ve got to hear what she was going to say now. “And?” I duck my head, trying to catch her averted gaze. “What were you going to say, Charlie?”
She turns away from me. “It’s stupid.”
“I seriously doubt that.” I have no idea why I’m pushing so hard on this. It’s not like she’s going to suddenly confess her love.
She shrugs. “I guess, I just felt more confident with you here.” She takes another sip of her tea and sets down the cup. “You make me feel safe.”
I sag back into my seat and sip my coffee, taking a moment to enjoy the hit of bittersweet bliss, while I work to absorb what she said. I make her feel safe. Nobody’s ever said that to me before. She is safe with me. More than safe because I’d do anything to protect her. But hearing her say that—shit—it affects me in a way, I’m not sure I can even describe. So, I do what any emotionally stunted guy would do. I change the subject. “Does your dad really know the dean?”
Her eyes take on a mischievous gleam. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Yep. I’m totally screwed.
Chapter 6
My Cotillion Teacher Would Have a Coronary
Charlie
Ryan:Are you free tonight?
Me:Yes.
Ryan:How about I make dinner?
Me:You cook?
Ryan:A little.
Me:Okay, but I’m placing my life in your hands, here.
Ryan:Ha ha. Pick you up at 6?
Me:I’ll drive. Give me your address.
By the time I reach Ryan’s place, I’m literally shaking. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. He likes me, he’s made that clear, but I just keep thinking I’m going to screw this all up somehow. Because I really, really like him.
His house is a cute, white, craftsman-style bungalow within walking distance of the university. It has to cost a pretty penny to rent this place. I thought I remembered Malcolm hinting at Ryan not having a lot of money when we were looking at clubs to go to, but perhaps I misunderstood. Not that it matters either way. I climb the steps onto the porch, and pausing at his sleek black door, I take a deep breath and knock.
“Coming,” Ryan’s voice calls and my stomach does a little dip at the sound.
Keep it together, Charlie.
