The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(50)

“You’d never come off as clingy or needy to me,” he says, and I can see the truth in his eyes as he looks at me. “Just because you made the first move doesn’t mean that you’re clingy or needy.”

“I know, but it’s just how I feel.” Groaning, I lean back on the couch. “Do you think this is what Pops wanted? Do you think he was playing matchmaker?” I pick up the bridge letter from the coffee table and look it over. “Am I simply being overly sensitive, or does this actually seem like a matchmaking trip?”

Crew drags his hand over his stubble. “I’m beginning to think that was the case. The bridge letter practically solidified that hypothesis.”

“Now that I’m not drunk, I look at the letter and feel like I should be reading between the lines. Or this entire trip—how we have to keep sharing a bed, the romance of the wine tasting. The Romantic Road . . . I mean, I think I’m feeling the pressure.”

“The pressure of what?”

“You know.” I pull my legs up to my chest. “The pressure of having to make something of this trip. Of us. And I don’t know how to navigate that.”

“Hey, we don’t have to make anything of this trip other than what we want to get from it.”

“And what do you want to get from it?” I ask.

Instead of answering right away, Crew picks up his water and takes a sip. Finally, he says, “Closure. I think that’s what I really need out of this. I never got to say goodbye, and that kills me every goddamn day. Coming on this trip, I wanted to get my head on straight and figure out where I was going with my future. Put some closure to the past and move forward, you know?”

“Yes, I can understand that,” I say, feeling odd and out of place. I can’t put my finger on it—I can’t quite comprehend these thoughts going through my head—but it almost sounds as if he wants closure for everything to do with Pops.

And I’m not sure if that includes me.

Maybe teenage friendships can’t transfer to adult friendships because of the reality of our very different lives. Even if Pops thought otherwise.

“What about you?” Crew asks.

I pull the cart close to us again and, this time, he doesn’t push it back, so I pick up my burger and take a bite. What did I want from this trip? After I swallow, I say, “Just one more moment with him. I wanted to see if he left anything behind, any hints, any clues, anything to help guide me. I feel lost and unsure, and I was hoping that maybe this trip would help me find what I was looking for. And it just seems like a grand scheme at a love connection.”

“You’re not looking for a love connection?” Crew asks with humor.

“I mean, are you?”

“Wasn’t on the list of things to do,” he answers.

“Yeah, me either,” I say, even though that doesn’t feel like the truth. Coming on this trip, I wanted Crew to be my partner in crime and there has to be a reason for that, more than just reconnecting. I think after what happened last night and this morning, I have my answer.

I like him.

I’ve always liked him.

And I’ve never gotten over him.

This trip is just making that more and more clear with every second we spend together.

What’s even more clear is that Crew isn’t in the same headspace as I am. Yeah, he might have initiated what happened this morning, and he said he didn’t regret it, but he’s also a guy. Guys won’t regret anything that allows them to come. Might be vulgar, but it’s true. They can detach their hearts from their heads.

Some women can do that, as well.

What I’m learning is that I’m not one of those women.

Not even close.

“How about this,” Crew says. “How about we erase everything that we did. I know I said I didn’t want to forget it, but it seems like a giant, pink elephant in the room that we need to kick out. So, let’s just get rid of it. Acknowledge that we were intimate for a second, but we’re more focused on repairing our friendship.”

Ah . . . friendship.

Maybe a month ago I would have been happy to hear that, but being here with Crew, seeing him, holding his hand, Crew laughing at my jokes, reminiscing—the feel of his hard cock between my legs—I know that it’s not just friendship for me. It’s so much more, and that’s terrifying.

“No pressure from Pops. He might think he’s trying to hook us up, but little does he know, we value our friendship more.”

I swallow hard, pushing back the emerging feelings. “Yes, focus on the friendship.”

“You’re sure? We’re not going to have any more awkward moments?” He lowers his head so he can catch my eyes.

Braving a smile, I say, “No more awkward moments. Just you and me.”

“Good.” He pulls me into a hug. “Come here, Twigs.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head and it feels so brotherly, nothing like what I experienced this morning with him. “No more weirdness.”

“No more weirdness,” I answer, feeling my throat tighten. Needing to get away before I lose it, I say, “Don’t squeeze me any harder. I have to pee.”

“Oh, shit.” He releases me with a laugh. “Don’t need you peeing your pants while eating dinner. That would bring on the weirdness, and we’re trying to get rid of that.”