Page 41 of Tricking an Introvert

The doggy hid in a corner, between a sideboard and the sofa, making himself as small as possible, ignoring the warm, inviting bed for a whole hour. He didn't even look at the treats.

"He was mistreated, clearly."

Tessa didn't think she'd ever heard Cole's voice with that much ice.

"Yes. It'll take time, but he'll learn we don't want to do him any harm," she said firmly.

She'd seen it time and time again at the shelter.

"I was thinking, do you think the place where you volunteer has room for him?"

While almost always at full capacity, the shelter did what it could to keep dogs off the street; they would have found room if they needed to, but Tessa was already shaking her head. "I'll keep him," she said. “Well, if I can. I need to go see the vet, check if the owners truly have abandoned him—he could have been stolen. And if you don't mind."

She just knew that he was her dog, under the fear and wounds. She'd cuddled and cooed so many of them without feeling that deep connection at first glance.

"Really?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Really."

"Good. I feel invested. I want to see him get better. I would have kept him myself if the apartment allowed it."

"Where's your apartment, by the way?"

She didn't think they'd ever talked about his place.

"Hell's Kitchen—not far. It's nice. Modern." Then, he laughed. "Translation: cold and impersonal. Still, it does the job."

"No wonder you prefer spending your time here."

"Well, that and the company."

Tessa bit her lip. She'd been so quick to jump to conclusions, assume that he had some agenda, because she didn't, couldn't, understand why he was spending his free time hanging out around someone as boring as her.

Confusingly, he genuinely seemed to enjoy her.

"Cheerleaders," she blurted out of the blue.

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You asked why I'm like this. I had issues with cheerleaders. When I was younger, in middle school, I was good friends with a girl who later became a cheerleader. She let me hang out with the cool crowd. It was pretty cool, actually, for a time. Then we all hit puberty and I hit it harder. Bigger boobs. Fewer zits. They started to spread rumors and call me names behind my back. Basic asshole 101. I learned that staying invisible, and remaining in my little bubble, is safer. And sure, it happened forever ago, but the rule still applies."

How lame did she sound?

"Well, the jocks had it in for me until I lost my weight—but Michael had my back. I can see how I might have become someone very different if he hadn't been there for me."

She hadn't had a Michael.

"I don't judge you, Tessa. I think you have a great life. You work for yourself, are successful, have your own place. You don't need to change a single thing. As long as you're happy. I only tried to drag you out because of something you said when we first met—that you wish you got out more. If you'd rather hang out at home, then that's what we'll do."

We. Him and her.

"I want to travel. Go back to Europe and visit more countries. South America. Asia. I want to not feel stressed out when one of my friends invites me for drinks, because they're pretty and successful and I feel deep down that they could turn on me some day. High school was a million years ago and I should have put it behind me already. So yesterday was nice. And the day before. Somehow, it's not that hard to hang out with you."

Probably because he represented a layer of protection. No one messed with men like Cole; being with him meant that she wasn't likely to run into any trouble.

"Then we'll keep going out, until you feel comfortable enough to go on an adventure somewhere."

She finally blurted out, "Why?"

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