Page 45 of No More Bad Boys
Also, I want to lighten the mood. I don’t want him to think I’m blowing him off.
Besides, although I’m convinced he’s hiding things from me, I’ve just realized I don’t have any room to judge him. I’m hiding things, too.
I stand on tiptoe to kiss his tight lips, which soften instantly against mine.
When I draw back, I leave my palms on his chest, then slide them slowly down to his abs, which are tightly contracted and moving in and out with his rapid breathing.
“No lunch date. Idohave to study all weekend. This double-e-major isn’t going to kick its own ass. Which means no drop-ins from hot guys, no matterhowmuch I might enjoy that.”
He seems a bit encouraged, one side of his mouth curling up at my last remark and flirty tone. “You think I’m hot, huh?”
I raise one eyebrow in my best Spock expression.
“Well…” He steps back and his hands fall to his sides. “I guess I’ll see you Monday at work then. I’d say I hope you have fun tomorrow night, but that would be a lie.”
He flashes a rascally grin so adorable I want to open my door and yank him over the threshold.
“I don’t want you to lie. I always like the truth better.”
I’m surprised to see his grin drop. He lifts a hand, taking two more steps backward. “See you Monday, Cadence.”
And he turns to go.
I watch him walk to the stairs and disappear from view, wondering why he looked so doubtful.
ELEVEN
Drop-in
I’m hanging from an artificial rock wall by two fingers and a toe, a guy’s hand is planted firmly on my ass, and I feel nothing.
Well, my fingers are killing me, but the ass part? Nada.
That’s because the hand belongs to Troy. I have zero doubt that if I’d gone rock-climbing with Blake tonight, andhewere the one giving me anassist,I’d feel quite different about the experience.
“I’m fine. I’ve got it,” I call over my shoulder.
The hand is removed, and from somewhere below me and to the right, Troy says, “Sorry.”
He’s been super-sweet all evening as usual, but aside from the physical exertion, I’m not enjoying myself the way I usually do with him.
His mild personality and laid-back conversation, which I normally find so relaxing, tonight seem… boring. I find myself wishing he’d crack a risqué joke, give me a wicked smile, or suggest some preposterous activity to do that would turn out to be unexpectedly fun.
Reaching the top of the wall, I ring the bell then slide down the rope, passing Troy, who’s still on his way up.
It’s not his fault. He’s exactly who he’s always been. It’s me who’s changed.
And honestly, even if Troy suddenly became the world’s wittiest conversationalist, I probably wouldn’t notice—my mind’s been somewhere else all night.
As if to underline this fact, I catch only the tail-end of his sentence and realize he’s standing beside me at the bottom of the climbing wall. He’s unhooking his harness and looking at me, clearly awaiting an answer.
“What’d you say?”
“I said… there are a couple walls we didn’t get to, but it’s almost nine. We should probably settle our tabs and head out. I like to get a full night’s sleep on Saturdays so I can get up and study on Sunday. I know you do, too. I’ve got an exam Tuesday in Engineering Econ.”
“Right. I’ve got one Wednesday.” I nod at him, forcing a smile.
How sensible.
