He waggles his eyebrows. “I intend to. You have condoms?”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, hoss.” I level him with an amused grin. Does he think I’m inexperienced because I don’t screw every female with a pulse?I know what I’m doing. I’m just a lot less vocal about my sexcapades than Carter is. “And we’re only talking.” I don’t want him believing I’m about to fuck the coach’s daughter. Rumors spread like wildfire on campus, and I need that rumor like a hole in the head.
He angles his head, and strands of his blond hair fall forward. “Talk? You can talk at the party.”
Eh, no. But I’m not about to tell him Emily’s a client of mine and this conversation has to happen in private.
“I’m sure Rachel is looking for you,” I say as I start to walk away. “I’ll text you in a bit.”
Carter doesn’t argue, grinning as he walks backward with a shit-eating grin on his face. Maybe the part about Rachel looking for him, or the fact Emily just called my name, is the reason he doesn’t give me any more flak.
Or he thinks I’m full of shit, which is probably more like it.
I strut up to Emily as she drops her phone back in her purse.
“You up for an ice cream? I know this small shop that stays open late. My sister loves the place.” Whenever Mom and Phoebe come down to see me, I take them to Charlie’s Sprinkles and Cream. Phoebe loves the sprinkles, which consist of gummy bears and Swedish fish, which happen to be two of her favorites.
She shoots me a funny look. “This isn’t a date.”
My brow puckers. “I know that. I just thought…You know what, forget it.” I rub a tense spot between my brows.What the hell was I thinking offering to take her for ice cream?I need to keep my distance from Emily, for a bunch of different reasons. She’s right to keep a solid line between us.
Silence engulfs us as we walk, and I slide my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.
“You have a sister?” she asks, after a few beats, looking at me inquisitively as we head out of fraternity row toward the main campus. I’ve no idea where we’re heading, but I’m following her lead.
“Phoebe. She’s twelve. Although, at times, she thinks she twenty.” I chuckle. “You have any siblings?” I ask, not knowing much about Coach’s family.
“No.” That one word is laced with evident sadness. I want to uncover the reason for it, but I’ve got to remember who she is and the fact it’s none of my business.
“Did you know who I was last night?” she asks, deliberately changing the subject.
The music from the frat houses begins to fade the farther we walk.
“I recognized you last night but not as Coach Parker’s daughter. I accidently ran into you when you were in the emergency room.”
Her gaze swings to me in confusion. Fine lines crease her brow as she thinks it over. “You ran into me,” she says, after a few beats, her brow smoothing out as realization dawns. “That was you?” I nod. “You can’t tell anyone you saw me,” she blurts, panic obvious in her tone and her facial expression.
“I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t plan to.” I reassure her, and she visibly relaxes.
“Thank you.” Silence fills the gap between us again before she fills it. “Why wereyouthere?” Curiosity threads through her question.
I debate whether to tell her more about my personal life. But I already mentioned Phoebe, and Emily understands the need for privacy. The crew I sell to are usually extremely guarded and private. They are also some of the most manipulative people I’ve ever met, and they’d literally kill to keep their habit a secret. Her old man knows about Phoebe too. So, no harm, no foul.
“My sister has cystic fibrosis. She was rushed to the hospital with pneumonia.”
She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as genuine emotion appears on her face. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
I’m about to speak when she slams to a stop in front of Randolph Hall, the oldest building on campus. It’s also where her mother’s office is located. Coach might not openly discuss his family, but everyone knows he’s married to the college president.
She stares at the building like it holds dark secrets. “My mom is probably up there working late as usual,” she murmurs, and I detect more sadness from her. She locks eyes with me, her sadness instantly fading as she slants me with a steely look. “No one can know I buy Molly from you,” she says in a low tone, casting a sharp look around.
“Trust me, I get it. Your father can’t find out either. He’d have a heart attack if he knew his quarterback is selling drugs.”
“Why do you?” she asks, appearing a little distracted. She’s still looking at Randolph Hall, and a new frown mars her beautiful face.
I follow her gaze. Maybe she sees her mom. But upon close inspection, all I see is a light spilling out of the second-floor window.
“I have my reasons.” None of them she needs to know, because I’ve already been forthcoming enough when she’s been cagey as shit. “Look, I sold to you and Zach last night before I knew who you were, but I’m not selling anything else to you.” I’m all about taking risks, but this one is too fucking close to home, and I can’t jeopardize it. Besides, those two bags I gave them contain twenty-four pills. That amount should last a while.
