I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Oh, no. What happened?” I infuse my voice with drama.
“Truth: I was studying and kept thinking about you on your date. Does it suck? Is he ugly? An asshole?”
I glance over at Bobby Gene, who grins.
“No,” I say, and I get silence from the other end.
“You mean you like him?” There’s an incredulous tone to his voice.
I do like Bobby Gene—as a friend—but I can’t answer something so specific with the detail it needs. Too many people are listening to me.
Skye is shooting me a quizzical look, and Tyler is eyeing me suspiciously.
“Uh, yeah? It’s great,” I answer.
There are several ticks of silence, and I imagine I can feel his unhappiness with my response.
“Are you still there?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
“Yes. I shouldn’t have called you. Obviously I’ve interrupted a good time. Have fun on your date.”
Click. He ends the call without even saying goodbye, and I’m surprised.
“I’m so sorry. That’s just terrible!” I say to the silence, clutching the phone tighter as I lean over the table. “Yes, of course, I’ll go home and call her right away and let you know.”
I get off the phone and send a regretful look at Bobby Gene. “Sorry, my aunt is sick—”
“But aren’t you from Charlotte?” Tyler asks, a slight curl to his lips. Skye is giving me a pointed look, and I know she knows I’m trying to get out of the date.
I blink. Oh, God. Lies truly are a sticky web.
“Yeah, but I just need to check in on her, not actually catch a plane to go see her.” I try to sell the lie again. “I should go home and call her.” There, it’s final: I am a terrible person.
Bobby Gene, bless his heart, gives me a shoulder squeeze, and I feel even worse. “I got ’cha. They don’t have to be direct family to be important to you. Maybe we can get coffee and donuts sometime?”
Coffee and donuts?
Bobby Gene just went up another notch on my like list.
I agree and we exchange numbers. With a hasty goodbye and a bit of a glare from Skye, I exit Buffalo Bills and head for the house.
It’s not until I’m home and lying on the couch with Han on my chest, purring in my ear like a motorboat that I decide to text him.
I’m home, I say.
Alone?
Yeah. You?
Always, he says.
Were you jealous tonight?
Yes.
I stare at the one-word response, my stomach jittery with excitement even though my head is yelling at me that he’s a football player.
Biting my lip, I change the topic. This is random, but do you like cats?
I’m more of a dog guy.
We can never text again, I quickly type out and send.
Okay, fine, I like them—just for you, Princess Leia.
A pang strikes my heart. He’s just…perfect. Everything he says makes me feel fluttery inside, and even though my head is warning me, my heart wants to put a face to the code name of the person I’ve been texting with.
But for now…I wait.
Good night, He-Man.
As you wish.
Delaney
Me: If you had a pair of X-ray glasses, what part of my body would you look at first?
He-Man: Collarbone.
Me: LIAR.
He-Man: Fine, fine, you win. I like big tits and I cannot lie. But I do like collarbones too.
Me: Ha. All guys are the same.
He-Man: Fine. What would YOU look at?
Me: I’d look at He-Man’s sword, of course.
He-Man: Trust me, it’s pretty fucking magnificent.
Me: Wanna send me a pic?
He-Man: Just to clarify, the quiet and reserved Delaney Shaw is asking me for a dick pic?
Me: It sounds bad when you put it like that…
He-Man: I’d rather show you in person, Princess Leia.
Me: Oh.
Can’t never could is what my Nana always said and I’m saying that in my head over and over as I shelve books on the third floor a few days later. I’m beat from a long day of volunteering at the cat shelter and now I’m stuck in The Dead Zone of the library, where few roam unless they’re doing serious research. At least I have last night’s texting with He-Man to think about, which had gotten very sexy before I’d finally let him go.
The next book to shelve is a huge three-inch atlas that weighs a ton. I drag the stepladder from the wall over to the metal shelves so I can reach to the top where it belongs. Once I climb up and clear the shelf, I have a clear view of most of the floor.
I’m about to turn and come down when two guys come up the stairs and onto the third floor, the echoes of their hushed voices carrying across to me. My heart leaps—damn heart—when I see Maverick walking next to Ryker, Waylon’s quarterback.
Maverick’s eyes look up and capture mine—he must have some kind of secret power that detects female attention—and takes me in, hovering above the shelf like a crazy person. He sends me a wave and I smirk.
Ryker taps him on the shoulder to pull his direction toward one of the study areas to the left, but Maverick nods his head at me and walks in my direction. Ryker follows.
Shit! They’re coming over.
My hair’s in a ponytail and my glasses askew, and I hurriedly pat down the crazy stray strands and straighten my frames. I wish I had time to grab my lipstick, but of course, it’s in my purse on the first floor.
“Hey,” Maverick says as he turns the corner. He’s holding a book and smiling, looking pleased as punch to see me, and it takes my breath a little.
I blink up at him, taking in the finely carved jawline and bitable lips.
Just. Damn.
He’s gorgeous and it pisses me off that it makes me melt into a puddle of goo.
I stuff that behind me and give him a nonchalant shrug, keeping my expression easy and not at all like I didn’t nearly break my neck getting off the ladder. “Hey.”
“You working?”
“Obviously.”
His lips twitch. “You sound excited.”
“I’m not. What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Just roaming the library.”
“Why?”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Why not?”
“It’s a bit late for mind games, Maverick.” I look down at the cart full of books I still have to shelve. “And I have work to do.”
“Maybe I was looking for you. I can help if you want?”
My eyes flare. Damn. Why does he have to be so sweet sometimes? “That’s okay.”
He gazes around at the shelving, taking in the empty tables and then focuses back on me. “This would be a great place to hook-up. Ever consider it?”
I roll my eyes. “Scoping out future make-out places? Please, for the sake of the books, leave the library out of your pound town itinerary.”
He throws up a cocky eyebrow. “I like the dim lighting and all the shelves. Good coverage in case someone comes up.”
My face colors, picturing him with some pretty co-ed.
He grins. “Would you be jealous if I hooked up with someone here?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous,” I say. Yes.
He studies me, eyes at half-mast. “Okay, fine, Delaney. I’ll never hook-up with anyone in the library…unless it’s you.”
My mouth opens and I’m about to say something really witty and smart—although I can’t think of a damn thing—when Ryker turns the corner. I guess something must have caught his eye on the way over and that’s why he lagged behind.