Page 46 of Meant to Be

CHAPTER 12

Cate

A s hard as I tried, I couldn’t get Joe out of my mind after our nondate date. I continued to believe that pursuing him—or, more accurately, letting him pursue me—was a bad idea in the long run. But after three nights of knowing he was right down the hall, wanting to see me and even putting sweet notes under my door, I could feel myself caving to his persistence, even asking myself what would it hurt to kiss him one time? After all, hewasJoe Kingsley. It would be quite the notch in my belt. Guys did this sort of thing all the time. Why couldn’t I do the same? If I just played along with his antics, I could forever say that I had kissed Joe Kingsley, my preteen crush and an American icon.

I decided it was just too good to pass up, but that I needed to break up with Arlo first. I called him and cut right to the chase. To paraphrase, I told him that it had been a good run, but it wasn’t really working for me anymore. I blamed our schedules and busy travel and not living in the same city.

“Besides, we don’t have all that much in common. I don’t even know the rules of soccer,” I said, feeling a stab of guilt that I’d never gone to watch him play in person.

“Yeah. But at least I never had to worry you were a groupie,” he said in his cute Liverpool accent.

“Ha! That’s certainly true,” I said, smiling into the phone.

“So…do you think we can still be friends?” he asked. “Grab a pint when you’re back in town?”

“Of course,” I said, though I really couldn’t see a friendship continuing, especially given that we had better sex than we did conversation.

“Friends withbenefits?” he said, clearly thinking along the same lines.

“We’ll see,” I said, on the fence. On the one hand, it was sort of the ideal setup. I could go do whatever I wanted with Joe, guilt-free, and still hang out with Arlo. On the other hand, I loved a good, clean break. Either way, I had successfully extricated myself from another relationship, and I felt the usual sense of relief that came with that.

As I said goodbye and hung up the phone, it crossed my mind to just call it a night and not bother with Joe. But his magnetic pull was apparently too great, because the next thing I knew, I was calling his room, then inviting him down to mine.

Moments later, he was standing in my doorway, grinning at me. His hair was messy, as if he’d been sleeping, and he was wearing khaki shorts, a faded T-shirt, and those white terry-cloth hotel slippers that I didn’t think anyone actually ever put on.

I smiled back at him—it was impossible not to—and told him to come on in, motioning toward the only chair in the room. He took a few steps forward, pausing to give me a kiss on the cheek—only one cheek this time. As I closed the door behind him, I noticed he was carrying a small bag with a fancy pastel logo. Maybe he’d picked up a box of chocolates in the gift shop, I thought, as that seemed like something out of his cliché flowers-and-poetry playbook.

“Cute slippers,” I said as he sat, putting the bag at his feet.

“Thanks. But be forewarned: don’t ever try to take them home with you. I made that mistake once.”

“You stole the slippers?” I said, mildly amused, as I sat on the side of my bed, facing him.

“No! I thought they were free—you know, like the shoe polish and the nail kit—but they charged me an arm and a leg for them.”

I laughed, then asked what he’d been up to for the past few days.

“Oh, you know,” he said, running his hand through his hair and messing it up even more. “Lots of napping…watching movies…I went on a few bike rides and did a little exploring and shopping.” He paused and gave me a shy smile—or at least a smilepretendingto be shy—and added, “Mostly I was just hoping to hear from you.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, rolling my eyes and waving him off.

“It’s the truth,” he said, his eyebrows knitting earnestly together, “whether you believe it or not.”

I stared at him, deciding that I actuallydidbelieve him—which was dangerous. It was one thing to kiss him; it was another to start imagining that he might like me. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to stay in control. With that renewed resolve, I scooted back on the bed and leaned against the headboard, my legs stretched out straight and crossed at the ankles. I was wearing cashmere drawstring shorts and a matching tank, so I had lots of skin showing, and could feel his eyes on me. I knew exactly what I was doing—and the effect it was having.

Sure enough, he took a deep breath and said, “God, Cate…You looksogood.”

I thanked him, then patted the spot next to me on the bed. “Would you rather come over here and talk?”

“I’d love to…. Can I take my slippers off first?” he said with a smile.

I laughed and said, “Please do.”

He kicked them off, then stood and came over to the bed, bringing his paper bag with him. “I got you a present,” he said, climbing up next to me, looking so proud of himself.

“You did, huh?” I said, sitting cross-legged as I turned to face him.

“Yep,” he said, handing it to me.

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