I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance(49)

But this soft side of him… It gets to me. He isn’t the nothing-bothers-me pretty boy people see.

I open my door. “Alright. Follow me home, and when I get inside, I’ll blink the lights at you.”

“Done.”

A rush of anxiety hits me as I gaze down at the charm in my hand. What possesses a man to buy a meaningful gift for a girl he barely knows? I look back up at him. “Dillon?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t hurt me.” I don’t know why I say it. It’s not appropriate considering we’re not dating or even hooking up, yet there’s a niggling feeling in my gut.

His eyes widen. “Never. I promise.”

Later, I’d remember his lie.





15





I’m coming to the LSU game, is the text from my dad the next day when I step out of the shower after practice. I sit down on my bed, trying to decipher how I feel about it. Is his new family coming? I rub my chest. Hope trickles in, a sliver of excitement.

I reply back, Looking forward to it. At least someone will be there.

A few minutes later, my phone pings with a text from Serena. When’s your birthday?

I smile and lie back on the bed. October 23rd. You?

Same.

My eyes flare. STFU.

Ha, just messing with you. February 14.

An image comes through the text, a picture of her at a coffee shop. She’s drinking a latte, and there’s a smudge of cream on her lips. Wait—who’s the other coffee on the table for?

Who are you with?

WBBJ guy. Neil. We had classes together back in the day. Discussing football.

My lips compress. I haven’t missed the way he’s been gazing at her during the games. I can help you if you need it.

Maybe. What do you love about football?

Ah, I get it. She isn’t texting to talk. This is about her story. I’ll tell you in person. Come see me or let’s meet.

Those three dots dance on my screen, go away, then come back. Can’t. Sister has hip hop tryouts at six. Give me your email and I’ll send some questions. Texting doesn’t work.

Email? Oh, Serena, no. Talking to you—in person—never gets old like it does with other girls, and the next time it happens, I want you alone…

I don’t reply, set my phone down, and get dressed. I inhale a deep breath, remembering her face when I gave her the charm. If she knew the secret of that purchase, the exact when of the day I bought it… What would she think? That I’m crazy?

Even Sawyer doesn’t know.

An hour later, after deciding I can’t stay away from her today, I check my hair in the mirror, smoothing it back over my head, then get out of the Escalade.

Magnolia Prep looms in front of me, a two-story gray stone school with turrets bookending either side. I’ve been to the public school and here a few times to talk to the football players. High school coaches love it, and it’s good press and shows a connection to the community.

Unease curls in my gut. I hope this is okay, just showing up here. I’m just…trying to figure out how to woo her. She needs slow and easy, but what if she doesn’t like surprises?

“There you are.”

I start and glance over at the lady quickstepping it to catch up with me. A small dog trots behind her with a pink bow in her hair.

“Nancy?” I say.

She pats my cheek. “You remembered.” She scoops up the dog and puts her in my arms. “You carry him. They don’t like to let me in with Betty, but you’re semi-famous around here. She cries if I leave her at home. Buster, now, he hates everyone, so he stays home. I should say she’s my emotional support, but I’m hers. What a conundrum.”

I blink.

She hooks her arm in mine, and I hold the dog in one hand as we enter the cool interior of the school. “You came to support Serena and Romy—I like it. Shows initiative. Serena, bless her heart, she didn’t invite you, that’s for sure, or she would have mentioned it. She’s about as useful as a steering wheel on a mule when it comes to men. I was going to set her up with Turo’s son, but his divorce is still pending. And he’s forty. I reckon that dog won’t hunt.”

“I see.”

“He sent me an orchid today.”

“Turo?”

“Mmm. We had sex for the first time last night. I do love a good orchid. Exotic. Classy. They need a lot of care though—like my Serena.” A mischievous grin crosses her face. “Did I mention Turo’s Italian?”

“Um, maybe?”

“Ah.” She bobs her head, sliding on the glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. “Vane… Don’t make his mistakes, honey. She walked in on him, you know. Saw the BJ.”

Oh, shit. Serena didn’t give me particulars.

“Are you better than him?”

I nod. I’ve had one-night stands before, even threesomes with girls, but I don’t cheat in my brief relationships. Fidelity means something. Loyalty is essential. Maybe because I suspect both my parents found their love in other places before they divorced.

Vane must have been out of his mind.

She leads me into the basketball gymnasium. Loud music blares from one end of the court. I rove the stands, my eyes landing on Serena, her head bent, laptop in hand. Several adults sit around her, but she’s got an area saved. Her glasses are on and her lips are pursed. She twirls a piece of hair.