Page 6 of The Dating Coach
"Okay, spill," he said, straddling the bench beside me. "You've been weird since yesterday. This about Hailey?"
"No," I said, perhaps too quickly. "It's nothing. Just tired."
"Bullshit. You missed three passes you could make in your sleep. Something's up."
I pulled my shirt on, buying time. How could I explain that I'd spent half the night thinking about Gemma Spears? That her assumption I was just another entitled jock looking for an easy score had hit a nerve I didn't know was exposed? That for the first time in years, I actually wanted to pursue someone, and she'd basically told me to fuck off?
"You know Gemma Spears?" I asked finally.
Henry's eyebrows shot up. "Swim team captain? Pre-med with the crazy GPA? Yeah, Naomi’s mentioned her. They have anatomy together. Why?"
"I'm tutoring her in organic chemistry."
"Since when do you tutor anyone?" Frank asked, emerging from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. "You barely have time to keep your own grades up with your schedule."
"Since yesterday," I admitted. "She needed help, and I offered."
Henry studied me with uncomfortable intensity. "And this has nothing to do with the fact that she's gorgeous?"
"She doesn't think much of hockey players," I said, sidestepping the question. "Made some assumptions about me that weren't exactly flattering."
"So naturally, you decided to prove her wrong by offering to spend hours in close proximity to her," Frank said, grinning. "That's definitely not you being interested or anything."
"It's not like that," I protested, even though it was exactly like that. "She's just... different. She looked at me like I was some kind of walking stereotype, and I want to show her she's wrong."
"If you say so, Cap," Frank called after me. "But maybe figure out what you actually want before you get in too deep. You're shit at casual, and you know it."
He was right, which irritated me more than his teasing. I'd never been good at keeping things surface-level, despite my reputation. The women who approached me at parties wanted the fantasy – the hockey star who'd give them a night to brag about to their friends. They didn't want to hear about my architecture dreams or my complicated feelings about following my father's plans. They wanted Liam Delacroix the brand, not Liam the person.
Gemma, though, saw straight through that façade and dismissed it. The fact that she found the “brand” hollow fascinated me far more than it should have.
Back at the house, I found myself in my room, staring at my drafting table. The sustainable housing project I'd been working on seemed to mock me with its careful planning and precise execution. Here, I could control every variable, account for every possibility. With Gemma, I felt off-balance, unsure of my footing.
My phone buzzed. A text from my father:Coach Jack mentioned your practice was off today. Everything okay? Remember, scouts are watching every game now.
I typed back a reassurance I didn't feel, then tossed my phone aside. Everything in my life felt like it was about other people's expectations – my father's NHL dreams, my coaches' demands, women who saw me as a conquest rather than a person.
Maybe that's why Gemma's words stung. For once, I'd offered something genuine, and she'd assumed the worst.
I pulled out my chemistry textbooks, determined to prepare for next week’s tutoring session. If she wanted to see me as just another dumb jock, I'd prove her wrong with sheer competence. I created practice problems, organized my notes, even color-coded different reaction types. By the time I finished, I had enough material to teach an entire course.
"Overcompensating much?" I muttered to myself, but didn't stop. There was something satisfying about having a concrete goal, a problem I could actually solve.
My phone rang – Gabe's ringtone. I hesitated before answering, not sure I was ready for another conversation about wedding planning or Hailey's latest adorable quirk.
"Hey man," I said, aiming for normal.
"Li! Buddy, I need a favor," Gabe's voice was warm with excitement. "Hailey wants to go look at venues next weekend, but I've got that stats exam. Could you go with her? She values your opinion, and I trust you to keep her from picking something crazy expensive."
The irony was so sharp it could cut. "I don't think that's a good idea—"
"Come on, it would mean a lot to both of us. You've got great taste – look at all those building designs you're always working on. Please?"
I closed my eyes, hating myself for what I was about to say. "Yeah, okay. I'll go with her."
"You're the best! I'll tell Hailey. She'll be thrilled."
After he hung up, I sat in the gathering darkness of my room, wondering when exactly I'd become such a masochist. Spending an afternoon looking at wedding venues with thewoman I was in love with, helping her plan her future with my best friend – it was like volunteering for torture.
