Page 115 of The Backup Plan

I shake my head and smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he says, brushing his thumb along my jaw, “here you are. Sitting on my floor. Thinking about what just happened. Drinking my wine.”

“I brought the wine.”

He smirks. “Still counts.”

Silence settles between us—not awkward, not heavy—just . . . there. Comfortable as the news plays on the television in front of us without sound on and neither of us paying much attention to it.

“So tell me things, Lucas Hale.”

“Things?” he asks, head tilting to the side.

“Yeah. Were you a heartbreaker in high school? What are your pet peeves? What is one bucket list item? What is your biggest fear?” I shrug. “Those kinds of things.”

“Wow, she gets counter sex and then hits with the hard questions.” He takes a bite of his kung pao chicken.

“They’re not hard questions. They’re get-to-know-you questions.”

He nods. “Only if you answer them too.”

“That’s fair,” I say.

“Which one first? Heartbreaker in high school?”

“That works.” I shift to lean back against the chair across from the couch so that we can face each other. It also puts me out of arm’s reach of him and, as if he inherently noticed that, he reaches out and rests his free hand on my calf where my legs are stretched out before him.

“Not a heartbreaker that I know of. I was too obsessed with football. Did I date my fair share of girls? Yeah. That comes with the star quarterback territory, but I wasn’t a player or anything like that.”

“So in this case, nice guys didn’t finish last?” I ask.

“Exactly. You?”

“I was a nerd. I preferred sitting in the biology lab at lunch versus socializing. I mean, I did socialize, but I preferred my own small set of friends versus huge crowds of people who would never understand why I preferred the harder classes so that I could get into med school someday.”

“Admirable.” He nods. “The next one . . . pet peeves, I think? I’m pretty easygoing to be honest. I don’t think I have any.”

“Everybody has a pet peeve.”

“Let me think.” He purses his lips. “How about people who are late for everything? It’s not that hard. You know when you have to be somewhere, so get there on time.”

“Noted. One of mine as well.” I click my tongue as I try and figure out another of mine. “Oh, I hate it when people don’t put things back where they belong. Drives me insane. You grab the milk from the fridge from spot A, you put it back in spot A.”

He barks out a laugh. “Don’t look now, your Type A is showing.”

I roll my eyes. “It shows a lot. I’m sorry for that. Um, bucket list was next, right?”

“You’re the one who asked the questions.” His hands move to my feet and start massaging my arch. I groan in appreciation, but when I open my eyes and meet his again, I can tell the groan made him think of earlier. His eyes are dark, and I’m not even going to look and see if his dick is hardening—at least not until we’re finished eating.

“Bucket list. I’d like to work for Doctors Without Borders one summer. I get to help people every day—help athletes keep their careers—but I’d love to do something that unequivocally changes a person’s life. Fix a kid’s cleft palate. Work somewhere with limited resources where my skill is needed.”

“That’s awesome. What’s stopped you from doing it before now?”

“I’ve wanted to establish myself and build a solid reputation. Gain relevant experience. Then I can take a sabbatical and do something like that.”

The way he looks at me—admiration, pride, and astonishment . . . I don’t think Jared ever looked at me like that.

“Bucket list. I’d like to travel the world. So much of my time is spent preparing for the season, playing in the season, and then recovering from the season, so I don’t get extended time to travel from one place to another. I think learning about other cultures and places and getting to live them would be fulfilling.”