Page 40 of The Underdog

He swings open the gate and steps through, gesturing for me to follow.

Despite his enticing offer, I remain glued in place.

Why did he want to talk here?

All at once, Warren picks up my hesitation, pausing thoughtfully. “What’s wrong?” he narrows in his stare. “Nervous?”

“Nervous?” I lift my chin up in denial, releasing my hands from one another. “I’m not nervous.”

I can tell he’s having trouble accepting my truth, which frankly isn’t much of a truth at all. Of course, I’m nervous. Everything about being with Warren is equally as settling as it is unsettling. I never know what to think, but I always know how tofeel. And despite this tension between the two of us—my feelings are hardly taking a backseat.

The cold air visibly escapes his lips as he leans against the gate. “You're just quiet…” he responds, shrugging casually before walking up ahead. “Usually, I can’t get you to stop talking.”

I swallow, watching as he makes his way onto the grass. “You coming?” he prompts me once more.

Finally, I urge my legs to move forward, instinctively pacing my way back to his side. “You can’t get me to stop?” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, watching as our feet brush over the dew on the grass, watering the baseline of my jeans. “I’m sorry, Warren, but you’re the one who likes the sound of your own voice. I mean, just ask thelads!”

The word escapes my lips before I even realize it…rationalize it. This town is rubbing off on me. He is rubbing off on me—and not in the way I wish he would.

I see a hint of amusement in his eyes as he tucks his hands carefully into his pockets. “Lads, eh?”

We’re walking side by side now, our arms so close to grazing one another that it causes me to flinch.

“You lot are friends now, are you?” he says in question. “Would’ve thought otherwise after that scene at the bar.”

For a second, I’d almost completely forgotten about that fiasco. Warren does that to me—leaving me to draw a blank until the heat that rises to my cheeks reminds me that I did, unknowingly, ask this man to sleep with me only a mere hour ago.

The silence I omit somehow confirms the reality of his lingering question. “Hey, if that’s what’s making you nervous right now, then stop,” he instructs, halting the two of us in place. “Half the lads don’t know what it means to shag, anyway,” he playfully scoffs, a subtle smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

I find myself staring for a second too long before I’m commanded to look back into his eyes. “Do you?”

I don’t realize I’ve asked him such an intimate question before it’s too late. Now, I can’t help but suppress a smirk of my own, raising my eyebrows deviously and scanning his face for a reaction.

A flushness falls across his cheeks as he rubs his hand along his bottom lip—and that’s when I see it.

Warren’s nervous.

Warren’s a projector.

Rather than recognizing his own faults, they somehow naturally fall onto others—a comfort mechanism, if you will.

“Nervous?” I bite my lower lip, strangely overjoyed at the notion of teasing him. I’ve never seen Warren falter, nor had I realized just how much of a serotonin boost it would give me.

His response comes through as an unimpressed scoff, only making me want to challenge him that much further.

“What?” I add on, shifting my weight from one leg to the other as I fold my arms across my chest. “You said we should talk, so this is me talking.”

He shakes his head ever so softly. “This is you prying,” he responds, his blunt tone no match to the look of mischief in his eyes. He likes this. I know he is. “Our sex lives shouldn’t be the topic of conversation right now, should they, Delaney?”

Seeing the wordsexon his lips leaves an aching sensation inside of me. Warren and I are paradoxes to one another, entirely out of sync. At the same time as I release a breath, he inhales deeply—but still, that doesn’t stop the overwhelming urge…thedesirebetween the two of us. It’s strong, intense, and unlike anything I’ve experienced with anyone before.

“Well…” I tear my eyes away from him, although I can still feel his searing into me. “What am I allowed to talk about, then? ‘Cause it seems that every time I do something, it either rubsyou the wrong way or I make a complete fool out of myself. Take tonight, for example. Just admit it, Warren, the two of us have been butting heads since the moment I arrived.”

He disagrees with a simple shake of his head. “I wouldn’t say so.”

I hadn’t realized that somewhere amidst this conversation, we’d continued walking. Now, we’ve lapped the field twice, and still, it feels like minimal progress has been made in this conversation.

“No?” I cock an eyebrow, debating whether or not to suppress the scoff in my voice. “You put me through a ‘trial’ before I could even start my job, Warren.”

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