“Get a room,” Malcolm shouts through the glass, while the others, seated in a booth situated right up against the window we’d been basically making out in front of, avert their heads and palm their mouths in a lame attempt to hide their laughter.
Ryan gives Malcolm the finger while I bury my face in his chest. I can only imagine how red my cheeks are right now.
Malcolm spins around and wraps his arms around himself, hands moving up and down his back as if he was making out with someone.
Pulling back to arm’s length, Ryan smiles at me and says, “I really want to get your number.”
“Okay,” I reply, unable to stop myself from smiling back, even while Malcolm is acting like a jackass.
“But first,” he says, eyes dancing with mischief. “I have to go kill my best friend.” He bolts for the door, swings it open and races after Malcolm who leaps over the back of the booth, laughing like a howler monkey. He doesn’t get far before Stella and Emma have latched onto either arm. Malcolm drags the girls through the shop, bumping into patrons and making general nuisances out of themselves, while Ryan threatens him with a half-eaten ice cream cone supplied by a chuckling Jacob.
If this is a dream, I hope to never wake up.
Chapter 5
Assistance Not Needed
Ryan
Me:Hey.
Charlie: Hi.
Me:Can I see you tonight?
Charlie:Sorry. I can’t. It’s The Bachelorette night. It’s kind of a tradition.
Me:You realize that’s all fake, right?
Charlie:OMG! It is! Oh, what shall I do?
Me:I’m sensing sarcasm here.
Charlie:Who me? Never! ;)
Charlie:I’m not meeting them till 7. We could get a coffee or something before?
Me:Sounds great! I’ll pick you up at 6?
Charlie:I’ll meet you there. Coffee hut?
Me:Sure. See you then.
To say I rushed out of work would be an understatement. I hauled ass out that door at five on the dot—Gave J.T. a vague excuse about having an appointment and bolted. He probably knows I’m full of shit, but I don’t care. What I do care about is not smelling like I just stepped out of a bike shop, with a crapped-out AC in the middle of July, when I see Charlie. So, I flew home, took the fastest shower of my life and raced across campus to arrive at the Coffee Hut ten minutes early. I was pretty pleased with myself, especially when I realized I was going to have to wait a bit for a table since the place was packed. Once I’ve scored us a great little table, right by the window and away from the ever-present line, I try to sit back in my padded chair and enjoy the rich coffee aroma while I wait. Problem is, now that I’m no longer rushing around, my nerves are kicking in, and all my stupid hang-ups begin beating around inside of my head.
Why doesn’t she want me to pick her up? Is she embarrassed for her parents to meet me? I mean, I get it. I’m not exactly the “take home to meet mama” kind of guy. Maybe I’ve been reading this whole thing wrong, and she isn’t as serious about us as I am. No point in getting Mom and Dad all freaked out over a guy you’re just having a little fun slumming with, right?
Christ, she probably doesn’t even realize how big a slum-hole she’s climbed into with me. I’m a college student and on the football team. For all she knows, my long hair and tats could be some middle-class jack-off rebellion. She probably has no idea the sort of family I come from. I can’t even imagine what she’llthink when she meets my brothers. Garret’s a nut job—especially when meeting new people. It’s like he’s testing everyone to see how much bullshit they’re willing to take. And Trey’s just fucking scary. A sweet girl like Charlie wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like J.T.’s, and that’s pretty much where I spent my whole fucking childhood. Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea. That’s why I stayed away from her all this time. Wanting her from afar was painful, sure, but nowhere near as painful as it’ll be to have her, then lose her once she realizes I’m not good enough.
I don’t even notice that I’ve dropped my head into my hands until a gentle stroke across my back shocks me out of my stupor. I bolt upright to find Charlie gazing down at me, a soft smile playing across her beautiful lips. She’s wearing a simple red tank and jean shorts that hug her curves to perfection, and the memory of that body pressed against mine has my heart doing a rolling dive into my stomach. “Hey,” I say, my voice a breathy whisper.
Her smile falters. “Is everything alright?”
I shove to my feet, the chair legs scraping against the hardwood floor as it skitters out from under me. “Yeah.” I force myself to smile. “Of course. I... Uh… didn’t know what you’d want, or I would have gotten it for you.”
“That’s okay. I’ll go order it.” She turns for the counter.
“No,” I say, stopping her with a hand on her arm. Jesus, she’s so tiny, I could wrap my hand completely around her bicep. “Sit down. I’ll get it.”
