Page 18 of Off Limits

I shrug, picking up my sandwich. “Cal doesn’t keep me updated about anything at all. Which is fine, really. Football’s always been his thing, not mine. When my parents finally let me stay home and not go to his games when he was in high school, it was a huge relief. I think I’ve been to maybe three football games since then? And two of those were my high school Homecoming after he graduated because my friends wanted to go, and I went to one game here last year. Still found it boring, though, even with my friends along.”

Simon grunts, his brows still knitted together like I just said the weirdest thing he’s ever heard. “The season’s going as well as can be expected, I suppose. It’s tough, changing divisions and breaking in a new coach. We’re all still getting used to each other.”

I nod sagely, like I know anything about that. “I know Cal’s feelings about the new coach”—Cal spent all summer griping about how they forced Coach Hanson into retirement when he’s the one who got them into Division I football and how unfair that was—“but how are you doing with all the changes? It’s gotta be weird starting with a different quarterback, especially when you and Cal have been working together for so long.” At least Cal didn’t find out he wouldn’t keep the starting spot until after he returned to Marycliff. I found out about that little switcheroo through my parents. I can only imagine how much bitching Simon’s had to listen to.

He shrugs, but his eyes drop to his food, and there’s a slight change in his expression that lets me know I’ve hit a sore spot.

Ugh. That’s not what I wanted. “Sorry,” I quickly backpedal. This is supposed to be … well, I’m not really sure what this is supposed to be. But it’s not supposed to be uncomfortable, except for the one-sided sexual tension I’m feeling. I don’t want to make Simon uncomfortable, though. “Ignore me. We can talk about something else. What’s your major?”

CHAPTER NINE

Simon

I can’t help laughing at her quick change of subject at the slightest tell of discomfort and the way that she picks the most innocuous and over-asked question she can think of. Smiling, I glance up at her, not quite sure what to make of her. She’s nothing like I thought, really, even after spending an evening watching TV with her and the few times I’ve witnessed her and Cal interacting.

Ellie’s a little bit bratty with Cal, but then he’s kind of an overbearing asshole to her, so I guess it makes sense. And they seem to only act that way with each other and not anyone else. With the guy behind the counter, she’s all sunny smiles. And to a large degree, she’s that way with me too—sunny smiles, effortless forgiveness, happy acceptance of minor kindness like buying her cookies and dinner from a bakery. Going out of her way to avoid subjects she thinks might be uncomfortable.

She’s sweet, kind, and way too easy to talk to. The fact that she’s not really prying makes me want to spill all my conflicted feelings about the new coach and the new quarterback he brought with him.

“I’m a finance major,” I tell her before shoveling a big bite of quiche in my mouth. I don’t need to drag her into all the politics of the football team. Not when her brother is involved, especially.

She nods, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chews. “Wow. That sounds like it involves lots of math.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. Math and business. It’s good, though. If I go pro, I’ll know how to handle my money. If I don’t, there are a variety of job opportunities. I could set up a firm to help other athletes handle their money, for example.”

Her dark eyes wide, she nods again and sips her coffee. “Is that on the table? Going pro?”

Frowning again—and the amount of smiling Ellie does makes me acutely aware of how much frowning I’m doing—I pick up another bite of quiche. It’s delicious, actually, with a buttery flakey crust and enough vegetables and ham to contrast with the richness of the creamy eggs. “Maybe,” I hedge, not wanting to jinx anything. “We’ll see.”

Her brows wrinkle, and her eyes narrow as she stares at me, clearly not accepting that statement. “Sure, yeah, I get that it’s not like you can just decide ‘I’m going to play pro football’ and it magically happens. Ofcourseit’s not a sure thing. But is that something you want to do? If the stars align and the opportunity presents itself, would you try? Or would you rather just work in finance? Be a hulking hedge fund manager in specially made suits.”

A laugh bubbles out of me.

She gives me a little bow. “Thank you. I was quite proud of that alliteration.”

Addcharmingly funnyto the list of things I’m growing to like about Ellie. Not that I have any business keeping a list of her positive attributes, but … I seem to be making one anyway, whether I want to or not.

“It was good. And no, I’m not sure I want to be a hedge fund manager, hulking or otherwise, though I wouldn’t turn down the specially made suits. Finding anything that fits off the rack is almost impossible.”

“I’d imagine so,” she murmurs quietly. Her eyes track over my shoulders and down my chest, her lips pursed as she peruses my form. Once upon a time, I’d feel uncomfortable about Cal’s sister looking at me like that. My best friend’s little sister shouldn’t be checking me out, right?

But now? Now I’m thrilled to have Ellie’s appreciative gaze on me. Especially after the way she smiled at the barista who obviously knew her. Has he asked her out? Does he want to? If he did, would she say yes? Would Cal drag me along to babysit another one of her dates? And if he did, would I fuck it up on purpose?

I don’t want to examine the answer to that last question too closely—a yes that’s ringing in my head like a gong—because Ellie should be firmly in the off-limits category. But I can’t quite bring myself to stay away from her.

She gives herself a little shake and brings her eyes back to mine. “But you didn’t answer the real question. Would you go pro if you had the chance?”

I carefully cut another bite of quiche before meeting her eyes and nodding. It’s not something I admit often, especially not to people outside my immediate circle. Partly because I just don’t randomly go spilling my business to anyone and everyone, and partly because I don’t want to be worried people only want to be friends with me so they can get something out of me when and if I do make it big.

But Ellie’s directness has me wanting to answer honestly. “Yes. That’s the goal.”

She holds my eyes for a moment, but then looks away, her eyelids fluttering as she blinks rapidly.

I wrinkle my brows in confusion. “Is that bad?”

She meets my eyes again and shakes her head, something like a smile twisting her lips, but it’s not a real smile. Not the sunny smile I’m used to from her. She sips her coffee, looking down and shaking her head again. “No, no. It’s great. I’m happy for you. I hope you make it.”

I wait a beat, the urge to extend my hand across the table and cover hers almost too much for me. “But?” I prompt.

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