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Chapter Thirteen
When Nicole got home from class the next day, she dropped her backpack by the front door and went straight to her bedroom, where the red light on her answering machine was blinking. She hit play.
“Hey, it’s Drew.” Nicole smiled before he got another word out. “Over an hour on the phone with you last night, and here I am calling again. I’m startin’ to think I can’t get enough of you, Wright.”
Could she cheese any harder? He called her by her last name. Why was that so damn sexy?
“Hit me back when you get this.”
Nicole played it again, then again, and once more because, sue her, the man’s voice should’ve been illegal. Then she picked up the cordless and dialed the number he’d given her last night. Four rings later, his answering machine kicked on.
“You know who this is. Leave one.”
“Hey, it’s Nicole. Just got your message. Two days in a row, though? Careful, Kiernan. People might think you like me.” That was cute. “Anyway, I just got home from class, so . . . yeah. Um, you’re probably busy with football or school and stuff. Call me back. Whenever. No pressure.” No pressure? Really? “You know, when you have time.” Stop talking. “Okay. Bye.”
With her eyes closed, Nicole hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed. One good line, and she’d run it straight into the ground.
After changing into sweats, she grabbed her backpack from the front door, pulled out her textbooks, and got to work. By the time her stomach started growling, she’d finished the assigned reading for American Government. The cordless went with her when she headed out to find something to eat, and she left it on the couch where she could see it. Some leftover Chinese takeout was in the fridge, so she nuked the chow mein and settled on the kitchen counter with her chopsticks and her worn copy of The Joy Luck Club.
Bailey got home a little after seven carrying a bag of Funyuns and plopped onto the couch. “How old is that?” she asked, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels.
“What?” Nicole said around a mouthful of noodles.
“The Chinese food.”
“Three days.”
“Ew. Gross.” Bailey made a face.
“What? It’s still good.” Nicole held up the carton and waved a tangle of chow mein at her with the chopsticks.
“If you say so.” Bailey stopped on The Real World and dropped the remote beside her.
When the phone rang at seven thirty, Nicole would’ve liked to say she let it ring a couple of times before she answered it. Tragically, she was off the counter before the first ring finished, dumping her chow mein and diving for the cordless while Bailey watched the whole thing.
“Hello?” she said, going for nonchalant.
“Hey. It’s me.”
Three words, and her face was already getting warm.
“Hey.” Nicole wedged the phone against her shoulder and headed for the bedroom. “Hold on one second.
“Hi, Dreeeew,” Bailey sang from the couch, loud enough for him to hear.
Nicole shut the door on her laughter.
“Was that Bailey?” Drew asked.
“Yeah. Pay her no mind.” Nicole settled back against the pillows at her headboard and pulled her knees up.
“I got you,” he said with a chuckle.
“Hey, where are you calling from? I didn’t recognize the number.”
“A hotel up the road from campus. We check in the night before home games.”
“I didn’t know that was a thing. Sounds like a lot for a home game.”
