Page 70 of Playbook
Her smile widens like that tells her everything she needs to know about me.
“Relationships take a lot of time and effort. I didn’t have the capacity for that then…or now.”
“I thought all high school boys wanted was to date a lot of girls. Or maybe I’m confusing date with sex.” Her empty hand skims across the water.
“Yeah, well, you’re not wrong about that.” I hesitate, not sure how much I want to say. “But when your home life is rocky, it’s harder to navigate all that and keep certain things private.”
Her brows pinch together like she’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying. Fuck, I really didn’t want to go there.
“My childhood was tricky,” I tell her. “My parents weren’t really present, and I bounced around crashing with friends. I moved in with Archer and his brothers when I was in junior high.”
The change on her face is immediate. It’s sympathetic and sorrowful. I hate talking about it, but I want her to understand that it wasn’t a choice I made lightly. I couldn’t bring girls home when I didn’t really have one. My friendship with Archer saved my life. That’s not an exaggeration. Even before I moved in with them, I spent as much time as I could there. His family gave me a safe place, any time I needed, no questions asked, and the family dynamic I craved. I had older brothers to look up to and a younger one to set an example for. That changed me.
“The Hollands took me in, and I am so grateful for that, but it still wasn’tmyhome. You know? Girls had too many questions, and as soon as I answered them, they looked at me differently. It was easier to keep things casual.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that was like.”
I nod, ready to move away from that depressing topic. “What about you? How long ago did you and Chris break up?”
I want to drop-kick myself for the hurt that flashes across her expression before she quickly masks it. “Two years ago.”
“Any other boyfriends since then?” I ask.
“No, nothing serious.” She shrugs it off, but I can feel her holding back.
“When I met Chris, I thought you might still be hung up on him, but I’m not so sure anymore.”
“I’m not,” she says quickly in a tone that sounds believable. “He just…”
She trails off and it hits me that the reason has much more to do with the damage he inflicted on her than wishing she could have him back.
“I feel you,” I say.
“You do?”
“Don’t look so surprised.” I wrap my hand on top of hers on the bottle of champagne, but don’t make any move to take it. I might not have that much experience with dating, but I know what it’s like to have people disappoint you in a way that fucks you up.
“Come on then, sweetheart.” I bring the bottle to my lips with her hand still under mine and take a slow drink. She tracks the motion, staring hard at my mouth and then my throat as I swallow. It takes everything in me not to ignore all her reservations and kiss her to prove to her how good we could be.
I push the bottle back to her, and then stand up tall in the water and scan the party for ideas. My voice is low and filled with gravel when I speak. “If we aren’t going to make out, then let’s find some other ways to make this night memorable for you.”
Archer stands in the kitchen of our apartment fighting a laugh as I try to wake up London. She crashed on the couch last night. She wasn’t kidding about not being able to hold her booze. She didn’t get sick or anything, but I didn’t feel right about dropping her off at her apartment. Especially when she told me Alec was gone for the weekend.
She has one arm thrown over her face and she’s clutching the T-shirt I gave her last night to change into to her chest. She didn’t change and the black dress has inched up high on her thighs during the night.
I’ve been trying to wake her up for a few minutes now, and she’s fighting me even in sleep.
“London, sweetheart,” I say softly, trying to take the pillow. “I just want to make sure you don’t need to be anywhere and then you are free to go back to dreaming of me.”
Archer snickers loudly.
Her body stills and then she shoots upright. It’s followed with a wince, and she closes her eyes and rubs her forehead.
Laughing, I take a seat next to her on the couch. She crosses her legs and then realizes she’s flashing me.
“Oh god.” She quickly uncrosses her legs and yanks on the hem of her dress, then looks down at the old Valley U T-shirt I lent her and groans. “Oh god.”
“That’s exactly what you were moaning all last night.”
