Just a Boyfriend Page 15

  He took a big bite and sighed happily, just like I had. “You said earlier you needed to talk to me.”

  I shook my head, as if to clear it. “You know how to waltz?”

  “That’s random. But yes.”

  “How?”

  He took another bite. “My grandma used to be a professional dancer. She and my grandpa go dancing every Friday night. When he broke his hip a couple of years ago, he asked me to step in and take his place while he was recuperating and had physical therapy. I did, and she taught me the basics. Why?”

  Gah, my ovaries were aching again with how adorably sweet that was. “My mom’s helping to organize this ball-fundraiser-waltzing-competition thing to support breast cancer research, and she needs you and me to be one of the couples that enter. And I don’t know how to waltz, and you do.”

  Then I held my breath in anticipation. I both wanted him to say yes and to say no. Either way had its own set of potential disappointments and heartache. I just didn’t know yet which one would be easier.

  “So . . . what you’re saying is you need me. To help teach you the waltz.”

  “Am I not enunciating today? Yes.”

  He was in the middle of taking a bite when I said that and due to his laughter struggled to swallow. “Since you asked so nicely, how can I resist? I’ll find us a room to practice in. Do you want to meet up Monday?”

  “Okay.”

  He took one more bite before putting the spoon in the sink. “It’s a plan. I’ll text you the details. Get ready to be swept off your feet!” He left.

  Suddenly I didn’t want any more pie. I’d come up today hoping to get a tiny Bash fix. Just something to tide me over.

  But this had turned out to be more than a little hit. I was dangerously close to a full-blown overdose.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BASH

  It was a no-pads practice since this was our final week before we headed into training. Sabrina was down at the opposite end of the field practicing her kicks. She kept moving back five yards at a time to test her limits.

  “Man, can that girl kick. I bet it’s not the only thing she does well.”

  I rolled my eyes at Dalton Johnson salivating over Sabrina. “Not gonna happen,” I told him.

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “Because she has good taste?” I offered. “Also, you’re kind of a douchebag.”

  “Right.” He nodded, very serious. “But I used to slay in high school. I don’t understand what it is women in college want.”

  “I can’t help you there.” Mostly because I didn’t want to. Leaving Johnson to ponder life’s great mysteries, I headed over to the main group, where Logan indicated that he wanted to do a couple of practice throws with full offense and defense.

  It was then that Woodby decided to finally grace us with his presence.

  “Nice of you to show up!” Logan called out.

  Without responding to our captain’s sarcastic remark, Woodby went to line up. Where he made the very big mistake of pissing me off by not paying attention. First he was rude to Ember, then he blew off his team, and now he couldn’t be bothered to listen to the play and respond correctly? I grabbed him by his jersey, pulling him close.

  “What’s your problem?” I yelled.

  “What’s your problem?” he responded, wrenching his shirt away from my grasp. “You’re being a real jack—donkey’s butt today.”

  I wished desperately that Coach hadn’t instituted a no-swearing rule. There were so many that I wanted to use in that moment. “My problem is what a frelling jerk you were at dinner!”

  He blinked at me, as if not understanding. “Dinner? You mean that double date? How was I a jerk?”

  “You totally ignored Ember the entire night, and when you did talk to her, it was to belittle or tell her all the ways she was wrong.”

  A smug look settled on his face and it took all my willpower not to bash it in. “She was fine. She had you there to protect and entertain her. It doesn’t seem to upset you that you ignored Bethany that whole time.”

  That knocked some of the wind out of my sails. Was he right? I hadn’t meant to. I had wanted to be a good date. But it was hard to remember that there were other women in the world when Ember was in the room.

  “I got the girl I was supposed to end up with,” he said. “So you can calm down. It’s not like Ember was so great, anyways.”

  I literally saw red. I was going to kill him. Rage roared to life inside me and I reacted. Since we weren’t wearing pads, it was so much more satisfying to shove Woodby on his unprotected shoulders. He nearly fell down but regained his balance. Then he shoved me back, and several players intervened, pulling us apart.

  Logan got in the middle of us and grabbed me by my shirtfront. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Most of me wanted to shake him off and go finish what I’d started, but I knew he was right. Fighting was not allowed and would get me kicked off the team, ruining any hopes I had for the future. Woodby wasn’t worth it.

  When we’d gotten far enough away that I’d mostly calmed down, Logan asked, “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “That flicking piece of crud may be out here acting all normal and like he’s everybody’s good buddy, but he treats women like garbage.”

  “Didn’t he just get a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, miraculously. And I think I get too little credit for the part I played in that. But you should have seen him with Ember. And did you hear what that son of a biscuit eater just said? That she isn’t that great? Ember is fan-freaking-tastic, and if he’s too stupid to see that, he shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air as her.”

  Logan crossed his arms. “You’re awfully defensive of a girl who is not your girlfriend.”

  What was I supposed to say to that?

  Especially since I couldn’t deny it?

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, look. I promised Jess that I wouldn’t say anything to you, but I think this is worth risking her wrath over. You need to talk to Ember. She has what I figure are probably misconceptions about why you left. You know, that last night you guys were together before you moved out of your house.”

  Whoa. It felt like my best friend had just sucker punched me. How did he, or more specifically Jess, know any of that?

  “Ember told Jess about that night?”

  Logan just nodded.

  “If you promised Jess, then why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because lately on the field you’ve seemed . . . touchy. And I remember when I was the same way. And why.”

  “What are you trying to say, dude?”

  “That I recognize this particular kind of frustration. Go work things out with your girl.”

  He just did not get it, and I was going to explain to him all the reasons why it wasn’t a possibility, but he walked off, back to join the rest of the team.

  Ember wasn’t “my girl.” She might have been a long time ago, but never would be again. She couldn’t be.

  As I headed back to the locker room to change and shower, I was struck with all these images from the Sebastian family get-together. How close together she and I had stood in the garage, with her hand on my cheek, burning my skin with the barest of touches. When she’d tackled me, lying on top of me, her delicious softness and warmth pressed into me. Her face when she’d taken a bite of that chocolate pie and how my knees had nearly buckled when she licked the fork side of the salad tong.

  It was a constant torment to be so close to her and not able to act on it. Because just when I was about to give in, I’d always hear my dad’s voice in my head. “Next thirty Christmases.”

  I’d sent her a text asking her to meet me outside of the locker room after practice. She’d responded with a short “okay.” I had been looking forward to our first dance lesson ever since she’d asked me to help her.

  Now I was dreading that I was going to have to hold her in my arms for the next hour or so. How was I
supposed to do that and retain my sanity?

  And despite Logan’s urging me to talk to Ember, I knew that would only lead one way. Into total madness. When I first got home, it was all I’d wanted. To tell Ember the truth about everything so that she would understand. So that I wouldn’t have to walk around with this guilt and regret. But had that been more about me trying to absolve myself than what was best for her? For us?

  Now that we had this tentative and fragile . . . friendship or whatever it was, I didn’t want to ruin it. It was torture, but it was a torture I was willing to endure just to be close to her. I needed to hear her laugh. To smell her coconut-scented shampoo. Feel how my heart would race just because she stood next to me.

  But talking things out? Laying all our cards on the table? It would mean I would lose everything. And it would make everything awkward and horrible again. Again, my dad’s warning echoed in my ears. I didn’t want the next thirty holidays to be awful. To have to stay away because I was in love with Ember and couldn’t bear to see her with anyone else.

  I’d already done this once. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to go through all that again.

  I was just going to have to harden my heart. Put up some defensive walls and barriers to keep things right where they were now.

  When I exited the locker room, I was surprised to see Ember standing there, waiting. I’d finished early, and I’d expected to have to wait for her.

  “You’re out sooner than I thought you’d be,” she said with a smile, and all those walls came crashing down.

  I should have refused the invitation. Said no to dancing. I could still say it. Tell her I’d made a mistake and I was too busy.

  The words wouldn’t come.

  Instead I said, “I was having some disagreements with some teammates, and we all thought it was better for me to leave.”

  “Yeah, I remember your very colorful disagreements from when you played football in high school.”

  She’d come to the games? I’d never known that. My heart squeezed at the time we’d wasted before I’d approached her, and all the time we’d spent apart since then. “Coach Oakley has a strict no-swearing policy.”

  “Wow. Was that like losing a limb for you?” she asked, laughter tingeing her question. “Because you have enjoyed many a fine curse word.”

  Losing a limb? No. The transition to faux swear words had been easier than I’d expected. A minor adjustment.

  The only time I’d ever felt like I’d lost a limb was when I lost her.

  “Should we go? I found a place for us to practice.” I led her farther into the athletic building, past the dance studios and down a back set of stairs.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. “Is there a lair involved, and should I be worried?”

  “Nothing like that.” I opened a door and flipped on the lights. “This is where we store the old weight machines when we get new ones.” The room was only half-filled, and every wall had floor-to-ceiling mirrors. “I tried grabbing one of the dance studios, but apparently the dance majors reserve them weeks in advance. I figured this would work. We have plenty of room and mirrors so that we can watch what we’re doing.”

  Ember ran her hand along one of the machines. “This is your used stuff? I think it’s nicer than what we have. Football players, taking all the good equipment.”

  “To be fair we bring in the most money from alumni,” I said as I dropped my backpack on the floor.

  She walked over to the empty half of the room and left her backpack against a wall. “Yeah, and you guys also get the most concussions, so I guess it evens out.”

  I stood in position and gestured her over. My anticipation built with each step she took toward me until she came to stand right in front of me. She reached up to touch the back of my neck. Was I sweating? The room was cold, and we hadn’t even started. I swallowed, hard. I could do this. I could.

  “I’m not a professional or anything,” I reminded her. “I did have some dance training when I was little, but that was a long time ago.”

  “That’s right!” Her eyes danced with that mischievous glint that I loved. “You used to be in ballet. How could I have forgotten that?”

  “It’s not that exciting.”

  “Are you kidding me? I used to love picturing you dancing in a tutu.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t wear a tutu.”

  “You did. And nothing you can say will ever convince me otherwise. Why did you take ballet? It seems very un-Bash-like.”

  “My grandma put my mom in ballet her whole life, and she loved it and wanted me to do it. My dad was fine with it because so many great football players had taken ballet first. To help with flexibility, strength, speed, finesse, balance, stuff like that. Even after she left, I stayed in those classes, waiting for her to return. I remember our first recital after she’d gone, thinking that if I did a good enough job at something she loved, maybe she would come back.”

  Ember’s whole body changed. Her face fell, her shoulders drooped. “Now I feel mean for mocking you about the tutu. I’m so sorry.” She put one hand on my upper arm. “I wish I could make it better for you.”

  My heart lurched painfully, and I had to nod. What was it about her that made it so easy to confess my deepest, darkest secrets? Things I hadn’t shared with anyone else?

  “We should get started. Okay. Your left hand goes on my shoulder.” Without thinking, I took her wrist and placed her hand. I left my hand on her forearm for a beat longer than I should have, loving the waves of heat her touch sent through me. “Then I hold your right hand in my left hand, and my other hand goes on your waist.”

  As if it had just occurred to her that this much touching would happen, her eyes widened. She tentatively held up her right hand, and I took hold of it. I put my other hand in position, and my whole body sighed with relief that I was holding her again. Even if it was just so we could dance.

  Then I explained the box step to her, how her foot would go back, then the other, bringing them together and then returning to the front. “Your torso should stay up straight but not locked into place.”

  After I’d showed her the steps a few times, she nodded. “I think I’ve got this.”

  “Let’s try it then. Doing it is the best way to learn. I’ll count us down.”

  “Wait, aren’t we going to have music?”

  “We’ll get the steps down first, and then add the music after you’re a bit more comfortable.”

  “Okay.”

  I quickly forgot about the thrill of having her in my arms as we just did not seem to be in sync. She kept stepping forward instead of back, didn’t respond to the pressure I put on her waist or how I tugged her hand to show her where I wanted us to go next. She kept fighting me.

  “Ember, only one of us can lead, and I think it should probably be the person who knows what he’s doing.”

  “I can’t help it! I don’t mean to do it.”

  “I know. You have a control thing.”

  She arched her eyebrows at me. “A control thing?”

  “I’m not saying you’re a control freak or anything. But we learned about this in my psych class last semester. It’s pretty normal for people who have lost a parent. I have my own control issues, too. Especially out on the football field. But you don’t have to be in control of this.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and it was like something had slammed into my chest, hard.

  “What did I say?”

  She shook her head, trying to speak but not able to. I led her over to one of the mirrored walls so that we could sit down and take a break.

  “I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,” I said, which made her smile and let out a little laugh.

  “It’s not that. It’s just . . . I came so close to losing my mom, and she’s the only parent I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if she died. I wouldn’t have anyone.”

  “You’d have Lauren. And you’d have me. You already said I was a really good friend, so you know I’d
be there for you. No matter what.”

  “I know. Thank you.” Something caught her eye, and I saw a small spider next to her foot. She reached for her backpack and took out a note card. She coaxed the spider onto the card and went out of the room, across the hall, and opened an exit door to let the spider go free.

  This was why I loved her. She was the kind of person who tried to rescue abandoned-weight-room spiders.

  When she came back I asked, “Did you ever think that by releasing it during winter that you were actually condemning it to a worse fate? That it’s survived this long because of this climate-controlled room?”

  “I gave him a chance. If he stays in here somebody’s bound to squish him. This is his best chance at survival. That little guy should be thanking me.”

  “Like in Charlotte’s Web?” I asked, not able to help my amusement.

  “Yes. I expect a spiderweb with the words Ember is the best written on it.”

  “You know, I don’t know what freaked me out more about that story. That the spider could talk or that the spider could read and write.” Another thing I loved about her. We could be discussing something as inane as a children’s book, but I enjoyed talking about it because I was with her.

  “The talking is definitely creepier. Though, to be fair, she only talked to the pig. Let’s go again.”

  I stood up, and we went into the correct stance. I counted, and she immediately stepped forward instead of back, and cracked up at her mistake. “Sorry. It’s good we’re not trying to win this competition.”

  “Nope, just going for the participation trophy here.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll get that at least. Dancing movies lied to me, by the way. One quick montage, and the girl who couldn’t dance is suddenly an expert. Which is not happening here.” She paused, looking at me with such intensity in her eyes that I felt it in my gut. “Just promise me I won’t look stupid.”

  My first inclination was to tease her, but there was something so serious in her tone. “I promise, E.”