Page 14 of Off Limits

Laughing at how offended he is that his sister would compare her puny mortal of a date to him, a god amongst men, I settle on the loveseat. “I’m guessing she wasn’t comparing your looks. It probably had something more to do with his attitude. In which case, I can totally see why she wouldn’t want to date someone who reminds her of you.”

Cal flips me off. “Fuck you. I’m awesome.”

“You certainly think so, that’s for sure,” I say on a laugh.

He flips me off again and picks up the remote. “The hostess said that she was going out with some friends after work. She gets off at ten. We should go.”

“Oh, uh …”

Cal cuts a glare my way. “You owe me, dude. I need you there to occupy her friends. If it’s just me, I don’t stand a chance. You know how girls in packs are.”

I can’t say I’ve ever paid much attention to pack behavior in women, actually, but I’m not going to bother arguing about that. Not now, anyway. Because Cal’s right. I fucked things up tonight. I owe him. And the fact that I’m not at all sorry to find out Ellie’s not going to see that little twerp again only adds to my guilt.

That, plus the zing I felt when she had her hand on my arm … When she stopped touching me, I wanted to pick up her hand and put it back where it was. I wanted her to touch more than just my forearm. I wanted to take her home and explore the depths of that fire and passion and find out how her fingers felt wrapped around so many other places—one in particular.

And those thoughts are just more gasoline on the flames of my guilt, so I nod. “Sure, man. No problem.”

* * *

After interrupting Ellie’s date on Thursday night, I keep an eye out for her at Saturday’s game. Will she meet up with Cal to say congratulations on our win afterward?

Because I want to apologize again. She was still mad when we dropped her off, and I don’t want her to be mad at me. Because … well, it’s not important why I don’t want her to be mad at me. Why I want her to like me. I just … do. That’s all.

Unwarranted disappointment fills me when she’s not waiting outside the locker room like the other family members, girlfriends, and assorted fans. In fact, I’m not sure if she’s ever come to a game.

So I scour campus for her between classes, even going so far as to meander through the library to see if she’s studying at a table somewhere in the evenings, the memory of her spending her first Friday night on campus mostly in the library fresh on my mind.

I keep telling myself it’s because I really want to apologize for my behavior last week while steadfastly ignoring the reason I want to apologize to her at all. The plan is to offer to get her a box of cookies like the ones she got for me. If they’re good for a thank you, then they ought to be good for an apology too, right? But since I can’t rely on seeing her and don’t know what room she lives in, I can’t just get some and take them to her. This way I can either take her to get the cookies or at least get her contact info so I can deliver them later and then … I’d know how to get in touch with her.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t, which is why I’m pretending that’s not my ultimate goal even as I go out of my way to look for her.

Finally, on Wednesday, I bump into her coming out of the library as I’m walking up the steps to make my daily loop to look for her.

She’s looking down at a notebook in her hands, checking something off a list, and she almost runs right into me, stopping herself just in time. Her eyes widen with surprise as she looks up at the Marycliff Football logo emblazoned across my chest, then she cranes her neck back till her brown eyes clash with mine.

“Simon! Whoa! I almost ran into you.” She takes a step back, looks down at her notebook, where she checks something else off then closes it and lets out a breath before meeting my gaze again. She’s back to the girl next door look today, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, a T-shirt and skinny jeans clinging to her curves, the V neck of her shirt dipping just enough to give me a hint of her cleavage, the same red flip flops she wore to walk to my house on her feet. Her mouth curves in a small smile, her lips pink but not glossy today. She’s all polite on the surface, but her face is guarded. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Good.” I return her smile, casting about for something smooth and clever to say. I’ve never been good at small talk. It’s boring. And inane. It’s not usually an issue, because being a starter and a football captain with interest from scouts, when I want female company, I don’t have to look far. They’re never interested in talking, though, so when I don’t say much, they don’t care. But with Ellie, I have to talk to keep her around. If I don’t say something, she’ll leave before I get the chance to apologize. “Good,” is all I manage to say, repeating myself like an idiot, hating my inability to come up with any other words at all right now. “You?”

“Good.” Her head bobs like she’s nodding more for something to do than any other reason, like she can’t wait to get away from me.

This is it, then. This is my one shot. If I don’t say something now, I’ll probably never get another opportunity. Or if I do, she’ll wonder if I’m following her, and I don’t want her to think I’m some kind of crazed stalker. I adjust the strap of my backpack on my shoulder, my prop for a reason to come into the library, and force out the words I’ve rehearsed in my head too many times to count. “Hey, I wanted to apologize about last week. I made an ass of myself, and I embarrassed you, and I’m sorry for ruining your date.”

The plastic friendliness melts off her face, and she gives me a genuine smile. Still small, no teeth, but genuine all the same, and lets out a breath. “It’s alright. Forgiven and forgotten.”

I raise my brows. “Really? That quickly and easily? You can forget that kind of thing?”

She chuckles and fiddles with the edge of her notebook. “Well, okay, maybe not forgotten, but I get that you meant well. I know Cal dragged you along, convinced you that I need protecting from all the big, bad men roaming around campus. It may surprise you, since you live with him, but I’m actually not an empty-headed bimbo just waiting for a man to have his way with me. I can actually figure out when a guy is terrible, and I know ways of protecting myself. And while I know Cal doesn’t really like it when Iaskfor his help, I’m assuming based on his behavior, that if something bad were really going down, that he’d come if I called.”

“Of course he would.” I’m almost offended on Cal’s behalf. I mean, the guy stakes out her dates to make sure she’s safe. Why wouldn’t he help her if she needed it?

“And anyway,” she continues like I didn’t just agree with her, “Autumn would definitely come pick me up if I needed her to. So …”

“Autumn’s your roommate?” I ask. “The one who forced you out of your room all night a few weeks ago?”

She sighs and shifts her stance, her arms crossing over her chest. “It was a misunderstanding. She typed out the text to let me know I could come home and forgot to hit send, or thought she hit send and it didn’t go.” She waves a hand, dismissing the issue.

“So it’s not just me you forgive easily,” I murmur, drinking her in while she’s looking away. “It’s everyone.” I’ve got it bad for this chick, and with her right in front of me like this, I can’t pretend otherwise. Even though I’ve gone out with Cal several times, it hasn’t helped. I haven’t wanted any of the girls we’ve found. Not when Ellie’s taking up all the space in my brain.

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