Page 24 of The Captain

“Come on,” Lincoln said after a minute, giving my hand that he was still holding a squeeze. “I’ll take you home.”

Unable to figure out where we went from here in this conversation, I slipped between the door he held open and the car. For a moment, I looked at Lincoln. For a moment, I wanted to tell him in a rush that Crew and I weren’t dating.

For just one moment, I felt this deep need to reassure him that everything was fine. That Crew wasn’t dating me, that we were just friends like Lincoln and me.

Friends like Lincoln and me? Did I just refer to us as friends?

Also, why was I worried about comforting him over who I was dating? It certainly wasn’t his problem, and I can’t see why he would give a crap if I was dating someone.

I buckled my seat belt and clutched my bag to my chest. Real life was giving me a headache, I just needed to get home safely and dive back into reading. Or…writing, which was what I should have been doing all night instead of going to a hockey game.

Lincoln said nothing as he drove through the parking lot, safely checking his mirrors and watching for others as he shifted the stick shift. My eyes stayed glued to that one spot the whole drive, watching his hand flex and move through the motions with ease.

I clutched my bag even tighter, biting my lip as I watched, unable to look away.

Holy shit, something was seriously wrong with me.

Finally, we stopped outside my place. The three-story building was lit up in various windows, announcing the presence of some of the occupants.

But my brain wasn’t thinking about whether Mick was home or if Vic, our resident couch surfer, was home. It was on the way Lincoln opened the door for me, on the way he grabbed for my hand and held it until I was sturdy on my feet and standing outside of his car, looking back at it like it was a monster about to bite.

A clearing of his throat had my eyes jumping to his, and I blushed. I felt it spread over my cheeks and down my neck like a bad rash, and I turned, marching up to the doors that led into my building with a swiftness I didn’t feel.

I had no thoughts that were rational, the only thing I could think was get in the building, stop looking at Lincoln.

But of course, he was quick. Quick enough to beat me to the door and hold it open, quick enough to escort me inside.

Shit.

“You don’t—”

“Let me walk you up.”

Our words collided, and our gazes snapped to each other’s. I saw something in his deep-brown eyes that I’d never seen before, so I didn’t know what to do.

I knew he couldn’t come in.

I didn’t know if Mick was home or if Tanner came over after the game.

Dammit. I hated lying to people.

I never would have thought it would be a problem to lie to Lincoln, of all people. He was an arrogant ass. He hurt people. He let his inhibitions lead his actions.

I pinched my eyes closed, not wanting to think about that.

“No,” I said with finality. “It’s okay. I’ve got some stuff to work on tonight.”

For a moment, he let those words settle between us. “All right.” He licked his lips, and I let my gaze wander there. Only for a moment, but it happened long enough that he tracked it.

His foot took a step toward me, his hands open between us, as if he were going to catch this moment between us with his bare hands.

I took a step back when a memory flashed in my mind.

He noticed.

But of course he did. Lincoln noticed everything.

“Can I see you soon?” His words came out in a surprising rush, and I stared at him again. Something crunched in my bag at the tightness of my grip on it. “For.” He cleared his throat and looked away. There was something about his expression that told me he was thinking about something other than what was coming out of his mouth. “Studying?” Finally, he settled on his question.

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