Page 45 of Never Date A Player
Nessa shifts toward the television. “So now you know why Mira acts the way she does.” She punches up the volume. “I feel bad for her, but she needs help. Lewis shouldn’t have to give up his life to make sure she’s secure.”
On the television, Sixteen Candles opens with Molly Ringwald’s Sam, assessing her sweet-sixteen figure in the mirror. Her body hasn’t caught up to where she is emotionally, while mine is a hormone inferno, attacking Lewis before my brain can figure out which side is up.
A knock sounds at the door.
Nessa and I stare at each other. “You expecting someone?” she asks.
“No.” I jump up, and land back on the couch. Damn sore muscles!
I rock off the cushion and grab the armrest for support, hobbling to see who it is. Nessa shut the blinds for the movie, and a thick layer of Tahoe dust covers the peephole, so they’re no help. I jerk the sticky door open.
Lewis stands on the other side, holding a small paper bag. He looks me up and down, his expression serious.
My skin flushes, as if my unruly hormones and thoughts of jumping him on top of the cascades show on my face. He’s in his usual jeans and a plaid button-down—and why is that so hot? I’ve seen Lewis in nothing but board shorts, but there’s something about his plaid shirts that has me fantasizing about slipping my hands underneath to his smooth skin. I want to be the only one who knows what lies below.
“Hey,” I say, my gaze flickering in Nessa’s direction. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. I don’t know why I’m worried. It’s obvious Nessa is on to me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
In excruciating pain. “Um, sore.”
He hands me the paper bag. “This should help. Are you working tonight?”
“Yeah.”
He grabs the back of his neck. I’ve seen that stance before. He’s nervous or uncertain. “Is that wise?”
Worried.
The underlying message with Lewis is never clear. Will I be okay after he destroyed my walking capability on the cascades from hell, or around Drake? “I’ll manage.”
He nods. The scene where Long Duk Dong says, “No more yanky my wanky,” blares behind us. Lewis raises his eyebrow.
“Sixteen Candles. Nessa’s here. You want to come in?”
He looks over my shoulder and nods in greeting to Nessa. “No, I better get going. I was… I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
All right after the kiss? After he crippled me? What? “I’m fine.”
“Okay, well, I’ll catch you later, then. Take it easy tonight,” he says, scanning me once before he turns and walks to his car.
I close the door and return to the couch. If Nessa hadn’t been here, what would have happened? Would he have come in?
I tuck the paper bag he handed me near my feet. I’ll look inside later, after Nessa leaves. She’s already staring at me with an odd smile on her face.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, gazing at the movie. “He was making sure he didn’t kill me yesterday training.” Which he kind of did. In more ways than one.
I’ve kissed him—a kiss to shame all kisses—and I can’t forget.
The combination of the Tiger Balm that Lewis dropped off and a handful of Motrin staves off the worst of my pain. I smell like a medicine cabinet, but I’ll be able to walk tonight at work.
Lewis brought me a gift. A stinky, guilt-laced gift, but proof I’m on his mind.
I’m getting ready for work, blow-drying my hair, when Cali busts into the bathroom.
I hold a hand to my pounding heart, gripping my roller brush with the other. “Cali, what the hell?”
