Page 61 of Wanted You More

The word still tastes strange on my tongue. Maybe because our friendship seems forced at best. We talk to each other, but we’re censored. Careful not to cross a line or say the wrong thing.

We were never like that before.

I keep telling myself it’ll get better with time, but then more time passes, and it’s the same as it was.

“Ah. A complicated friend.”

He gets no confirmation from me, but it doesn’t seem like he needs it.

“I’m Linc. Lincoln, technically, like the car. That was my parents’ thing.”

Confusion pinches my brows. “Cars?”

Linc shakes his head, still smiling. “That too. I meant naming their kids after cars. My brother’s name is Bentley, and my sister’s is Mercedes. My dad owns a garage and loves restoring classic cars that he and my mom take to shows all over the country. They’ve won a bunch of awards for them.”

That is pretty cool, I guess. Dad used to get calendars every year of classic cars. Mom used to tease him for it considering he liked driving whatever was new on the market. “My parents were English professors, so they named my brother and I after famous authors. I’m Austen and my brother is Wolfe.”

If he knows who those people are, he doesn’t give it away. All he says is, “An interesting name for an interesting girl.”

His flattery doesn’t necessarily make me uncomfortable, but it doesn’t make me warm and fuzzy either. “Is this you making a move?”

“Is your friend who’s a boy going to hurt me if I shoot my shot with you?” he inquires, seemingly unfazed by the possibility of getting beaten up.

My first response is,I wish.

What I actually say is, “No. He wouldn’t care if you did.”

There’s a crushing weight on my chest that I do my best to ignore because I don’t want to think about Noah right now. Not when a cute boy is hitting on me.

“So, Austen-like-the-author,” Lincoln begins, leaning his arms against the edge of the table.

“So, Lincoln-like-the-car,” I return, lips wavering into a nearly-there smile from his flirty tone and glint in his eyes.

His lips only stretch higher. “How do you feel about pizza?”

I glance at the time on the bottom of the computer screen. “It’s eight in the morning.”

“But eventually it’ll be lunchtime,” he points out matter-of-factly. “And everybody needs to eat. I happen to know the best spots around campus for the best food. Pizza is the specialty around here.”

My stomach decides it’s the perfect time to rumble at that moment, making my cheeks tint with embarrassment. “I like pizza,” I admit, wiggling in my seat and toying with my empty coffee cup, which happened to be my only breakfast this morning.

Lincoln sits up. “Great. Meet me at Waylon’s front entrance. Do you know where that is? Across from the dining hall?”

I nod. “Can I bring someone?”

His eyes light up. “Afraid to be alone with me?” he asks in a teasing tone.

Wetting my lips, I evade his humored expression and answer with a simple, “Yes.”

Then I text Noah back.

Me:Thanx. Already making friends

A few hours later, Kennedy grabs the door leading into Waylon and walks in behind me. “Remind me why I’m here?”

“To be the buffer,” I tell her, bumping her with my shoulder. “You’re way better at making conversation than I am. Like how you basically controlled that situation with our RA the other night. I was impressed. Plus, this will help us get to know each other better while meeting other people. Win-win.”

My roommate pushes her glasses up her nose and offers me a skeptical glance. “And you can’t make easy conversation with this guy? You don’t seem like the type of girl to struggle with the opposite sex.”

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