Page 50 of Just Like Home

“Well, what?” Had her knees gone weak? Because a guy waspoliteto her? She had to get control of this foolish little crush.

“Do you accept my apology?”

She held his gaze, despite her trembling nerves. “Yes. Will you do the dance?”

“Not a chance.”

She eyed him. “It’s for Jules.”

He wasn’t budging.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll tell them I tried, and you said no.”

“Good. So, you want to drive with me? I don’t trust you behind the wheel.”

She tried—failed—to hide her smile. “I’m actually a decent driver. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had any reason to drive.”

“Are you ever going to get your car fixed?”

“It’s a rental,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up. “You probably need to call them.”

“I know.” Another thing she was avoiding.

He motioned for her to follow him, and she did, adrenaline still rushing through her veins from going toe-to-toe with someone who had no concern for the feelings of his verbal sparring partner.

Not that she was a partner. It wasn’t like she’d willingly entered into that role.

As they reached the door to the school, he opened the door and waited for her to walk in.

She glanced at him. “This isn’t going to deposit me in the middle of the men’s locker room, is it?”

“Uh, no,” he said. “This will deposit you in the athletic office.”

“I didn’t go to high school, so I’m not sure how these things work.” She smiled and walked through the open door.

“You didn’t go to high school?” The metal door closed behind him with a clang.

“No, I had private tutors mostly. I have the equivalent of a bachelor’s degree—just not the actual diploma.”

“You were tutored through college?”

She shouldn’t have said anything. He probably thought she was a freak. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

He took the hint and stopped asking questions. “You won’t be.” He nodded toward a blue plastic chair. “Have a seat.”

She did, aware that they were just outside an office with his name on the door.

“I’ve just got to grab a few things.”

“I’ll be fine here.”

Cole watched her for a few seconds before turning into his office.

She hugged the purse to her chest and prayed she would, in fact, be fine. If those football players started talking to her, she might not know how to handle herself. She found conversing with men incredibly awkward. Men in the real world were different than ballet boys. Ballet boys understood the language she spoke—the language of dance. There was an instant connection that allowed her to communicate. Football boys were like foreigners to her, and she had no idea how to bridge the gap.

She pretended to be busy on her phone, an effort to deter anyone from talking to her, but really, she was stealing glances of her surroundings and eavesdropping on Cole’s conversation with whoever was in his office.

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