Incumbent(15)

Yes, this was definitely my best idea.

“Were you a gymnast in school?” I asked. She certainly had the toned body of one.

“No. I was a cheerleader.” Her eyes widened as if she just told me she’d robbed a bank.

“You know, I was a football player.” I crossed my arms and grinned at her. “How about a cheer?”

Her face puckered as if she’d tasted something sour, and she shook her head. “It was a long time ago, and I really didn’t care for it. The Lions sucked, but I bet you caught the eye of many pompom shakers.”

“You know, if you were on the sideline at my games, I would’ve wanted to be the quarterback.” When she stilled and looked away, I asked warily, “Did I say something wrong?”

Still avoiding my eyes, she walked away from the swings and asked, “So, what position did you play?”

It didn’t escape me that she’d avoided yet another question. I stepped into pace with her on the sidewalk, wishing we were still holding hands like we had before. But her body language seemed closed off now, so I followed her lead and didn’t push on either front.

“Tight end. I was in line for a Division One scholarship, but I got injured during our last home game.”

Thinking of that injury always brought with it regrets. It had not only impacted my football career, but also prevented me from entering the military like I’d planned. That one night had nearly devastated my life, but I’d eventually regrouped and refocused my need for service to my country in another direction—politics.

Genuine empathy was etched onto Lucy’s features. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“You know what would make me feel better?” I grinned at her. “Another kiss.”

She shook her head. “Drake, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Before I could respond, she turned away from me. All I could do was stare at the back of her head.

Something was going on with her. Was it me? Had I been reading her all wrong? I didn’t think so, but she was definitely running hot and cold.

“Lucy?” Internally I begged her to turn and look at me, but she didn’t.

“I think we should head back.”

She kept a pretty good pace, and I walked alongside her as we made our way back to her apartment.

“Are you going to explain why kissing me isn’t a good idea? It’s not as if we haven’t kissed already. And if I do say so myself, it was rather spectacular.”

I smiled, hoping to evoke the same response from her, but sadly I didn’t. Her beautiful face remained stoic.

We walked up the two steps leading to her front door, and she unlocked it. “Would you like to come in for some coffee or something?”

You bet your sweet ass, I do. And I’ll take some answers on the side, please.

“Yes, thank you.”

Lucy let us into her apartment and went right for the coffeepot after urging me to have a seat on the couch. Once the coffee was brewing, she pulled off the hoodie and joined me in the living room, choosing to sit at the far end of the couch, away from me.

“So, are you going to tell me why you don’t want to kiss me?” I asked.

I couldn’t let it go. This girl’s evasiveness rivaled a politician’s, and it intrigued the hell out of me.

She reached up to twine a strand of her hair around her finger, a gesture I’d seen her do before, and it dawned on me this was what she did when she was uncomfortable or nervous.

Damn. That’s not what I wanted.

Finally, she said, “I’m not the right person for you. Like I said before, we’re two entirely different people.”

I chuckled. “Well, that’s a good thing, or I’d want to kiss myself.”

Her lips formed a tight smile. She was clearly not amused.

I scooted a little closer to her on the couch and pushed the few strands of hair she’d been playing with behind her ear. “Look, just because two people don’t come from the same place or have different opinions, it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be together. Yes, we’re different people. I understand that, but you need to explain why that’s such a bad thing.”

She didn’t blink; she just stared at me while I begged her with my eyes to communicate with me. Could she see how much I wanted her?

Then a thought hit me, and it curled into a ball in the pit of my stomach.

“Do you think you’re going to get hurt? Has someone hurt you in the past?”

She started to lower her face, but my index finger halted her chin, and she shook her head.

“No. I’m afraid of the opposite.”

My shoulders dropped. “You’re afraid of hurting me?” I traced her cheekbone from her adorable freckle to the corner of her lip, which was curved down. “The only way you can hurt me is by not letting whatever this is between us to happen.”

“Drake . . .” She pull away and visibly relaxed when a beep sounded from the kitchen. “The coffee is ready.”

I snatched her hand. “I don’t care about the coffee. I need you to talk to me. Please tell me what it is.”

Frowning, she said, “Look, this is what I know. Public figures are scrutinized for everything they say and do, and so are the people around them. If we’re together, then my problems become your problems, and you don’t need that. You’re seeking reelection, and you’re the best senator this state has produced in decades. Not to mention you want the presidency one day. It’s too much responsibility. I can’t risk that.”