The Relationship Pact(57)

Garlic and oregano perfume the air as we enter the kitchen. I start toward the stove but am stopped by a large hand twirling me around.

Surprised, I go off-balance, but Hollis catches me in his arms. He’s grinning a wide, cheek-splitting smile.

“Did you mean that?” he asks. “Or were you just fucking with him?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Huh?”

“Did you mean it? Did you mean it when you told Sebastian that I’m your guy?”

I return his smile. “I honestly just said it. I didn’t think about it.”

He attempts to bite back his smile, but he fails miserably. Even if he could have hidden it from me, he couldn’t deny the shine in his eye.

I don’t know what to call it.

Is he proud that I called him that? Does it make him happy? Does he find it ridiculous and think it’s a part of the faux-mance we put on for Sebastian the first time?

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that I would give anything to see this look on his face more often. Daily.

I shiver.

He leans forward and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to my lips. And then he lets me go.

“Hey!” I say, disappointed there wasn’t more.

He laughs and swats my behind. “I gave you a little attention, but you distracted me with pizza. I smell it.”

“So?”

“So feed me, and then maybe I’ll give you a little more.”

“Fine.”

I head to the oven and take out the pizza. I get it cut and on plates while Hollis fumbles through the cabinets looking for glasses. I don’t offer to cut in and tell him where they are because I quite like it that he’s comfortable enough just to look himself.

“I need to go to the store, so I think our drink options are water and grape juice,” I tell him.

“I drink water anyway.”

“Really? You don’t drink Coke?”

He shakes his head. “Coach had us on a strict diet regimen. It was tailored to each one of us. Pop was something I had to cut so I could keep my Ding Dongs.”

I had him a plate. “I’m glad you kept your Ding Dong.”

He snorts and takes the pizza from me. “Why was Sebastian here?”

I shrug as we make our way into the living room. “Who knows? Probably just to screw with me. He likes thinking he has power over people, you know? He shows up here and I remember how much I miss him …” I roll my eyes as we sit on the couch. “His excuse was to invite me to Tybee for New Year’s Eve. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, I can. He’s a dick.”

“I agree.” I start to take a bite of the pizza, but it’s too hot. “Do you have any ex-girlfriends like that?”

He leans back on the couch. “Nah. I don’t really have girlfriends.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

“May I ask why you don’t, or is that going to get me a redirection?” I tease.

He half-smiles as he contemplates my request. I’m surprised he doesn’t just redirect me without answering.

Progress.

“The truth?” he asks. “I can’t be trusted to take care of another human. I’d be afraid to get a fucking dog.”

“But you’d want a dog, right?”

“I’d love a dog. A black lab, actually. But I’d forget to feed it. I forget to feed myself half of the fucking time.”

I grin. “You do realize that you’d be dating another human being that can feed herself, right?”

He knocks my knee with his. “You know what I mean.”

I do. I know what he means. And I think I know a little more than that.

Pushing him on this is risky, but he’s so cooperative and he responded so well—surprisingly well—to being my guy. So maybe I risk it …

“You know what I think?” I ask.

“I think you’re going to tell me.”

“I think, silly boy, that you have trust issues.”

He makes a face like I’m stupid and reaches for his pizza. Steam still rises from it in steady puffs, but he fills his mouth anyway.

“I think,” I continue, picking my words carefully, “that you think that you can only trust your friends. I can’t remember their names. Sorry.”

“River and Crew.”

“Yes. Them.”

I turn on the couch so I’m facing him. I hesitate, drawing one knee to my chest.

He continues to chew, but he doesn’t look away, and I have to wonder if he wants me to press him. If not, wouldn’t he change the subject?

“I think you sell yourself short,” I tell him.

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” I say, smiling at him. I think back to what he’s said about his mom and Philip and Kim. “I think … I think you think that people always give up on you.”

His eyes go wary. “That’s a lot of thinking.”

“It is, huh?”

Holding my breath, I wait for him to respond. He sets his plate down and grabs his glass of water. He takes an intentionally long drink.

He swallows and sets the glass next to the plate.

“You wanna know what I think?” he asks.

Suddenly, I’m nervous.