Page 43 of Drew
“Ugg, I’d hate that,” I admit. I guess that’s one advantage to not being an athlete. I have enough problems of my own, thank you very much.
“On that—we’ll both agree.” Drew grins. “Let’s get inside and get something to eat. I’m starving.”
Drew’s back to business as usual once we finish lunch. He sits on one end of the couch, and I sit on the other. I’ve taken off my shoes and made myself comfortable by curling into the corner, so I can face him. We quiz each other until we both feel ready to ace this test. I admire his tenacious work ethic, and I feel prepared. Sure, it takes me a minute to get my head in the game, but once I focus on only the chemistry in the books, everything flows together.
By the time we finish a couple of hours later, Drew asks if I want to grab a bite before we head back to campus. When he offers to make creamy chicken pasta with broccoli, there’s no way I’m going to object. Not only do I want to know if he can cook, but I’m hungry after spending hours studying.
I glance at the clock and ask, “Do you have time before practice?”
Drew gives me a knowing look and stares blatantly at me until I get his point. “I’ve gotta eat, too.”
I offer to help, but Drew dismisses me quickly. “I have this.” Since his kitchen is small, he suggests I stay in the living room and relax. But me being me, I read a book on my phone for pleasure.
Before I know it, I’m deep into Brittney Sahin’s latest romantic suspense novel. God, I love how she creates a world. I never want to leave. It’s like I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to find out what happens next as I flip through the pages. I don’t even notice Drew standing over me, until he says, “Abby? You okay? I’ve called your name a few times. Whatever you’re reading must be good.”
Embarrassment rushes through me for being so caught up in the story. I seriously didn’t hear him. But instead of giving excuses, I go with the truth. “Sorry, got stuck in a book.” I quickly shove my phone into my pocket and follow him to the dining room where I find he’s set and filled two plates for us.
“Oh my God, Drew. This is delicious.” I practically moan as I devour my first bite. Damn. The man can cook.
Drew grins wide in appreciation of my suddenly ravenous appetite. “Thanks. My mom used to make it all the time growing up.”
“I love it. Your mom taught you to cook?”
“When Summer was sick, I tried to help out as much as I could. She taught me how to make my favorites, so Dad and I could still eat while she was at the hospital. My dad’s an amazing cook, too. But sometimes, he had to work.”
I can’t imagine going through the loss of a sibling. I love my brother to death. Even though we fought like cats and dogs growing up, I’d be lost without him. I don’t feel sorry for Drew because I know it’s not necessary, but my heart aches for what his family went through.
Drew must be a mind reader because he reaches out to hold my hand as he quietly says, “It’s okay, Abby. My mom would’ve taught me how to cook anyway. I was a growing boy and needed to eat. I knew how to cook long before Summer was diagnosed.”
His touch alone sends shivers down my spine. My body heats, and I’m unsure what to say. Once again, I go with the truth. “Have I told you how amazing your family is?”
This earns me a sheepish grin. “They are pretty great. What do you say we finish up so I can get to practice on time?”
Later that night, just as I’m nodding off to sleep, my phone vibrates with a text notification. Expecting it to be from my mom or roommates, I’m surprised to find Drew’s name flash across the screen.
Drew: You awake?
Me: Yeah, everything okay?
The three little dots appear then disappear as if he’s written something, then deleted it all—just to start over again. Finally, a new message appears.
Drew: We still on for Sunday?
Why is he asking about Sunday? We’ll see each other in class before he leaves for his road trip. Does he not want to go?
Me: That’s the plan.
Drew: Are you busy tomorrow night?
Well, this is unexpected.
Me: I’m working until ten. Why?
Drew: Never mind. I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Have a good night.
What the hell? Even for Drew, this is vague. I want to say something but don’t even know where to begin.
I start to type something, and then stop.
