I Bet You(30)

Yet…

I can’t help this pull I feel toward him, as if I’m the moon and he’s the Earth.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” I say. “Do you really think I smell like rainbows, or was that all part of the bet?”

He smirks. “Been wondering, huh?”

“Just curious.”

“You smell amazing.”

You do too, I want to say, but I don’t.

“So, just out of curiosity and for no other reason, when you said that part about us having a connection…” My voice drifts off when my phone pings with a text. I pull it out and read the message.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Connor. He wants to have lunch tomorrow in between classes at the student center—the pizza place.” I stare down at the message for a beat then look up at Ryker. “Should I go?”

A muscle pops in his jaw. “If you want.”

“Should I say no and play hard to get?”

He frowns. “If you want to go then go. Whatever.”

I scowl. Why is he being so touchy? “Isn’t this how normal people do dating, by asking their friends about how to respond to a text?”

“I do what I want and nothing else. You haven’t dated much, have you?”

I shrug.

His gaze brushes over my lips, lingering. “Have you ever had a serious boyfriend, Red?”

“No. Have you?”

“No, I’ve never had a serious boyfriend.”

I laugh and he grins. “You know what I mean,” I say.

He nods. “I’ve never dated a girl longer than a month.”

A month? Holy cow. “You really are a player.”

He shrugs. “I’ve just never been in love.”

“Ditto,” I say.

He arches a brow. “Connor?”

I frown. “That isn’t love. I-I’m just curious about him. He seems like he’d be a good fit for me.”

“A good fit?” He shakes his head. “Red, come on. It’s not an arranged marriage. You need chemistry and sexual attraction. You should be thinking about him all the time, and when he walks in the room, your entire body should get hot. Is that happening?”

No. I swallow. But I can’t tell him that. I just can’t. It would be revealing and would make me vulnerable.

My phone pings again and I look down. “It’s him again.” And even though Ryker hasn’t asked what he said, I tell him anyway. “He says if I’m busy tomorrow, I can come over to his place tonight and watch a movie. Oh, that sounds…interesting.”

Ryker shakes his head. “Do not do that. That is code for sex. It’s past seven and that’s a booty call.”

I rear back. “Really? Seven is the magic hour for a booty call? I thought that was more like midnight.”

“Nope. Think about it. It will take you a while to get over there—I’m assuming you still have an hour or so left on your shift—then you watch the movie. Voila, it’s midnight and he’s getting all handsy.”

I narrow my eyes. He’s exaggerating, but I play along. “Handsy. Damn. He seems so nice.”

“You never know.”

Another text. “He says he knows how to cook spaghetti and will make it for me if I come over. How sweet.” I glance up at Ryker, who isn’t smiling back. “I told him I like Italian.”

His eyes glitter. “Everybody knows how to open a jar of Prego, pour it over noodles, and sprinkle Parmesan on top. It’s a trick to get you to his place.”

Hmmm. I cock my hip. “I’ve already eaten, but I do love food. It’d be a good trick if he’d asked me for another time. Do you know how to make spaghetti?”

“Of course. And mine isn’t out of a jar. I did most of the cooking at my house growing up.”

Fascinating. “Why?”

He shrugs. “My mom took off when I was three. It was just my dad and me.”

I absorb that information. I always imagined him living in a white-picket-fence type of family with parents as athletic and beautiful as he is. Everything I know about him realigns. We’ve both lost our mothers, in a way. Then it dawns on me that I don’t think many people know this about him. “And you’d make me spaghetti? Not as a trick, but as a friend because I love it?”

His eyes meet mine. “Right now?”

I shake my head. “No, in your dorm room sometime. You make spaghetti and I’ll bring dessert. You do have a kitchen right?”

He looks bemused, as if this conversation hasn’t gone the way he expected. “I’ve never cooked for a girl before.”

“But you would for me?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “What’s for dessert?”

My body flushes, picturing us in a small kitchen. Pots and pans are everywhere. My ass is planted on the bar, and I’m reclining back with my knees up and my panties pushed to the side. He’s got his jeans shoved down to his hips, grinding into me— My phone goes off again. Bless. I exhale. “It’s Connor again.” I type out a response.

Ryker’s lips tighten, and I think I see his fists curl. “What did you tell him?”

“Thank you for the offer but I’m working.”

“What about lunch tomorrow in the student center?”