The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #4)(85)

“You? I think about you all the time, you goof.”

His head shakes. “No, Anabelle, have you thought about what it would be like being with me?”

“Why? Have you thought about what it would be like to be with me?”

His big, brown eyes are intense. Sweet. “All the time.”

All the time? How did I not know that?

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about relationships lately. Truthfully, who would want to be with me, Rex? I’m not exactly a catch at the moment.”

I’m roughly six months pregnant and getting bigger every day. My hormones are out of whack and I cry all the time. Sure, my hair and skin look amazing, and I haven’t gained much pregnancy weight, but…

He straightens to his full height, inching toward me, reaching for my hands.

“I consider you a catch, Anabelle Donnelly. You and your neon pink poster board were probably the best thing that happened to me this year. Without you, I’d be acting like a dumbass somewhere, wasting my fucking education.”

Oh God, he is too, too sweet.

“You can do better than me, Rex,” I chastise quietly, letting him lace our fingers. “And your mother would drop dead from a heart attack if you started dating me.”

I would know because I’ve met his mother. She’s one of those high-maintenance suburban housewife socialites with regular Botox injections and pouting lips. She loves me as his friend but would have a conniption fit if we were romantically involved.

He shrugs. “Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t.”

“Rex…”

“Will you at least let me kiss you before I go?”

Yes. Yes, I’ll let him kiss me. I’m single and lonely, and the father of my child hasn’t made any declarations. And I’m curious.

I tip my chin up as his hands slide along my shoulders and up my neck, cupping my face as Elliot has done dozens of times in the past. God, the contact feels good.

His lips are timid, like butterfly kisses, soft and gentle and exploratory, gradually gaining confidence. He kisses me tenderly and I’m curious enough to open my mouth, to let his tongue slip inside.

Our breaths mingle. Tongues roll.

He tastes good, like gum and the cologne I bought for his birthday to replace the terrible scent he always wore before.

The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s nice.

Definitely nice.

My toes aren’t curling inside my socks like they did with Elliot, but as far as first kisses go, I’ve had worse, with guys who didn’t care about me like Gunderson does.

Still, is nice enough?

As scared as I am to be alone, is it fair to give Rex hope? I nibble my bottom lip, thinking.

“I never thought I would actually get the chance to kiss you—never in a million fucking years.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re…you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, for one, you’re Coach Donnelly’s daughter. He fired me and hated my guts, like, forever. Two, that stupid, fucking bet. Three, you’re beautiful and smart and should know better than to be friends with someone like me.”

I place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tenderly.

“You’re more than dumb pranks and tasteless jokes. That’s why I’m friends with you, Rex. I see the good in you. You’re one of my best friends.”

“I can live with that assessment.” He pauses, hand blazing a trail down my arm. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you waiting for Elliot?”

I avoid his inquisitive gaze. “Define wait.”

“Anabelle, you know he’s not coming back, right?” He asks quietly enough that my shoulders sag.

Why is he saying this? I don’t need him pointing out the obvious—it makes me feel like shit. “I know he’s not coming back, I’m not a fool. I watched him leave—twice.”

Backing away, he crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. “You have to be realistic. He is gone. He’s moved on with his life. You video chat and email for Christ’s sake—what kind of a relationship is that? What kind of involvement do you want for the baby? An absentee dad or one that’s right here? I’m right fucking here, Anabelle.”

“Rex, don’t do this now.” Please don’t, I silently beg.

I’m already so confused. Rex is baring his soul when mine isn’t nearly ready for him, not just yet.

“I’m sorry, Anabelle. That’s how I feel, and I’ve done a lot of growing up this past semester. I just wanted you to acknowledge that, and maybe, when you’re ready, give me a chance. I’m going to be an engineer,” he boasts.

I close the distance between us, raising my palm to his cheek, stroking it softly. “You are so good to me, and I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the best friend I have right now—everyone else abandoned me when I fucked up. You’re the only one who has my back, and now I have yours.”

“God, you’re so…”

“Marvelous?” He flashes me a cocky grin. “I know.”

I pat his face. “The ego on you.”

“It gets me through the day, Donnelly. Days like this where I pour my heart out and it gets stomped on.”