Why am I defending him to her? She’s being a petty bitch.
Still, she’s my cousin; if we fight, it’s likely to get back to my parents, and I don’t want any phone calls from my mother.
“You’re having sex with him. Doesn’t his face bother you?”
I don’t correct her, just stand, gathering up my things. “What is your problem today?”
“I don’t have a problem, but you? You need to get your eyes examined.” She bites down on a carrot stick, casually crunching down on it. “You’re slumming.”
“I’m not going to sit and listen to you cut down who I chose to date. Rhett is amazing. I like him.”
“Whatever.” Her carrot gets dipped in ranch dressing. “Are you and your boyfriend going to be at the football season opener party this weekend? Rhett is allowed out on the weekends, isn’t he?”
“We’ll see.” I scowl down at her, fists clenched at my sides. “I might not be in the mood.”
“Look at you, all in a snit.”
“Do you blame me? You’re being foul.”
“Whatever—I can’t help it that your boyfriend isn’t hot. That’s your problem, not mine.”
“I’m leaving.” Take a few steps back. “Have a nice lunch.” Don’t choke on your unsolicited opinions, I silently add.
She scoffs. “I will.”
Outside, my back hits the brick wall when I pull my phone out, checking for messages.
Rhett: Hey.
I light up when I see his name, all the catty drama from my cousin fading fast, his ability to cheer me in an instant unfailing. My heartbeat quickens.
Me: Hey yourself
Rhett: You still on campus? I’m near the union, heading home if you’re heading that way anytime soon.
Me: Perfect. Give me five—I was just having lunch with my cousin. Meet me by the main entrance?
Rhett: Yup.
I all but skip over, the sight of him leaning against the brick building, one leg propped against the wall making me giddy. Thumb moving over the screen of his phone, his head is bent, a button-down shirt over a plain t-shirt and jeans a departure from his usual hoodie. Backward cap, this one from Iowa.
It looks new.
He looks nice.
Cute.
I speed walk that way, happy to see him. Rise on my toes, plant a kiss right on his lips. It takes him a full three seconds to respond, hand sliding around my waist, pulling me in. Pressing his lips to mine.
PDA—it’s about damn time.
We start off, his arm still slung around my middle, and I hunker down under his armpit. It’s cold and I’m not wearing a jacket, but Rhett’s kicking off more heat than a radiator—not to mention, I love being glued to his side.
“You smell good,” I blurt out, the raging hormones inside me needing to chill the fuck out already.
I preen when he kisses the top of my head, pleased he’s starting to get the hang of this dating thing.
“What’s going on this week?”
“I have a meet, remember? It’s home, but it’s a big one, so I won’t be able to see you much. We have to eat together and study together this week. Coach is still pissed about all the hazing shit.”
“What did he say about the cabin?”
“He hasn’t said anything directly to me yet, but I know he’s pulled Osborne and Daniels into his office a few times.” He laughs. “Those assholes never even came back to the cabin Sunday morning.”
“Thank God everyone else did.”
“Yeah.”
“So how does your coach know everything got resolved?”
“Pretty sure a few of the guys made up some kumbaya bullshit about bonfires and trust falls.”
“And he bought it?”
Rhett shrugs. “Guess so. He hasn’t suspended anyone.”
Six of the twelve wrestlers had returned the following morning, just in time for breakfast, wielding three dozen donuts and bottled waters and making a serious effort to put all the bullshit behind them. Then, after spending some time down by the pier, fishing, and hanging out, we all caravanned home. Spent the rest of the night cleaning the grease off my car.
Ambling leisurely all the way back to my house, we reach the concrete walkway, taking each concrete step one at a time. It’s a tiny porch with little room for multiple people, so I’m leaning against the screen door.
“You want to come in for a little bit?”
He worries his bottom lip. “No, I should get home. I only have twenty minutes to eat, change, and head to the gym. Practice until ten.”
I scrunch my face up. “When is your meet? I’ll probably bring Lana and Donovan if they’re not working—I hate the thought of sitting by myself.” And no freaking way am I sitting alone in the student section, not after seeing all those signs, all those girls.
“Saturday mornin’, early. Matches start at nine. We have to be there at five.”
I rack my brain, mulling over my schedule. “I have a study group at ten, but I’ll skip it.”
“Don’t skip a study group to come see me; there are still a few home meets you can catch.”
“I know, but I want to. I’ll make it work.” I pause. “So curfew tomorrow night, yeah?”
“’Fraid so.” He’s pressing into me now, smiling down at me with those pretty white teeth. “I have to be home by nine and stay there.”
“So we’ll just have to do something at your place? That’s allowed, right?”
“Yeah, it’s allowed.” Nuzzles my neck. “What should we do?”
“It’s supposed to rain—we can watch movies?”
“Netflix and chill?”
“Yes.” One hundred percent yes to the fooling around during the movie.
“Damn.” He grins. “I’ve always wanted to Netflix and chill.”
“Are people still calling it that?” I tap my chin, feigning indecision.
“I doubt it. I was never cool to begin with so I have no idea what people are doing.” His pelvis meets mine, the hard-on in his jeans pressing into my stomach. I’m tempted to run my hand along the denim fabric, drive him a little bit crazy before he has to leave. “I should leave.”
My chin tips up, lips straining toward his face. “You sure you don’t want to come in?”
“Can’t.” He swallows. “I’m already runnin’ behind.”
“Then get going—don’t make me the reason you’re late.”
The last thing I want is him in trouble with his coaching staff because he stood on my front porch flirting. “Go. Get.”
“All right.” His head bows the barest of a fraction. “Tu me manques.”
“Same.” With every rush of wind, Rhett’s hair wisps around his goofy ears.
He laughs against the crown of my head. “You don’t even know what I just said.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Kisses my hair. “You are really something, do you know that?”
“I try.” I’m really trying to be the kind of woman Rhett deserves, someone honest who loves him for who he is.
“I should go.”
“Kiss me before you do?” Asking gets easier and easier, and he’s happy to oblige. “How do you say it in French?”
“Embrasse moi.”
“Embrasse moi,” I echo, parroting his inflection down to the syllable.
“Very good. You’re a natural.”
“Embrasse moi.”
He does.
He kisses me and kisses me good, like he means it, right in the middle of my porch, in the middle of the day, like he’s not going to see me for the rest of the year.
My toes curl inside my boots, all the tingles, tongue curling around his. Open-mouthed making out, neighbors be damned.
When he pulls away, we’re breathless, steam rising from the cold. “See you tomorrow night?”
“Yes please.”
I watch his firm ass swagger down the sidewalk with a few long strides, backpack slung over his shoulder. Watch as he stops and turns.
“Laurel?”