“Do you have the latest book by M. Kannan? It’s a fantasy.”
“Sorry, that young man over there picked up the last copy.” The gray-haired lady points down the aisle toward a tall, imposing frame propped up in one of the chairs by the in-store cafe. A tall, imposing, familiar figure.
I march over before my warning system has time to power up and urge me to run for my life. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m gathering reading material. I asked this hot girl out to breakfast, but she turned me down. I think my potential topics of conversation were too limited.” Masters holds up a biography of our current president in one hand and the fantasy novel I’ve been waiting for an entire year to read. “Help me out here. If you had breakfast with a stud like me, which book would you rather discuss?”
“Masters, seriously, what are you doing here?” I refuse to let him charm me. He’s wearing his standard uniform of cargo shorts and dark T-shirt. This time the knit is a deep green that makes his eyes pop. I’ll pretend his mother bought him the shirt and not a former girlfriend, because it’s totally a color a woman would purchase.
“I’m buying a book.” He looks at his full hands. “Maybe two since you can't make up your mind either. What are you doing here, Ellie? You aren't following me, are you?”
“What?” I say a little too loud and heads turn our direction. “No, I am not following you,” I hiss in a much quieter voice.
He lowers his own voice and I have to lean in to hear him. “It's okay if you followed me. I approve of your stalking.”
“I’m not stalking you,” I bite out, but then because I want to buy the book in his left hand, I paste a smile on. “I think the biography. Why don't I go put that other book back for you? This book has sex in it.” I point to the novel.
“Good thing I'm over eighteen. It’s frustrating to want things that people hold out of your reach.” He shakes his head in mock dismay.
“Don’t you have practice?”
“Not today. It’s Sunday. Even football players get a day of rest.” He smiles but it dies off when I continue to glare at him. He sets both books down on the table. “I want you to go out with me.”
“I don’t date football players,” I answer automatically.
This concept is apparently so foreign to Masters he literally scratches his head. “So you had a bad past experience. We’re not all the same person.”
“It has nothing to do with a bad breakup and I know better than to say all football players are like one asshole.”
“So, you did date one.” He nods as if this is the answer to everything.
“Yes, but he didn't break my heart. Or at least not in the way you think he did.”
I felt hurt when I found out Travis had cheated on me, but I also felt glad to see the ass end of him. What made me angry was the way he treated Jack. That’s what pissed me off. That’s the warning I take with me.
The problem with Masters is that I’m very attracted to him, more so than a normal girl is attracted to a normal guy, which is why I can’t just walk away from him. I know that standing here having this conversation gives all the wrong signals. If I really didn’t want Masters, I’d walk away. We both know it.
“Okay. We have this thing,” I wave my finger between our bodies, “going on. I think the best thing we do is have sex, burn it out, and go on our own way. I won’t even tell a soul that we did it and you can continue with your virgin cover story.”
His face tightens. I don’t know if it’s because I accused him of lying or because I want to have sex without any emotional attachment, which is weird because most guys would jump up and down for joy at this offer. “If all I wanted was a quick lay, you and I both know I could get that without any effort. I want something more than that from you.”
“Welcome to disappointment. It’s character building.”
I force myself to turn around and walk away. The chair scrapes behind me, and then his big hand turns my shoulder and backs me up against the bookcase holding stories about dead girls hacked up by serial killers and other true crimes. Seems apt.
He leans down, so close I can smell him—a mix of warm male and citrus—and it’s so good my knees get a little weak. “I’m not experienced, but I know when a girl is into me, and you're into me. You want to play it casual, then that's how we play it...for now. But fair warning, I'm bringing everything I’ve got to tear down your resistance. My specialty is reading plays and then overcoming the barriers.”
I lock my legs to keep from falling over and pull out the biggest barrel I have. “Masters, there are things about me that if you knew, you wouldn’t want to spend another minute in my presence.”
He considers my words, the silence taking on heaviness, and part of me already aches for what I could have if I was any other girl at Western. “Have you killed anyone?” I can feel his eyes assessing me and I keep my gaze averted, afraid of what I’ll see in his moss green gaze.
“No.”
“Have you slept with my brother?”
“What?” I can’t prevent myself from gawking at Masters, who’s smiling as he asks the question. “No! God, I’ve never even met him!”
“Are you catfishing poor athletes from Auburn? Wait, don't answer that, because I don't think I'd find that objectionable. Oh, I have it—” He snaps his fingers.