I bite the inside of my cheek to pull myself together and redirect the conversation, but I have to say, these last couple of weeks, being with him has been easy, our conversations natural—when I can stop thinking about sex for one second. I almost think he enjoys my company as much as I enjoy his. “I still can’t believe you paid the landlord a visit.”
“I told you I would, and I did. I keep my word.”
I nod, secretly liking that about him. He’s been honest about everything so far—even the part of fucking and not having girlfriends—and he’s a guy who stands behind his word. “I guess I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“I dropped my Dad’s name, Maize.” He grins at me. “It goes a long way.”
“Someday I’d love to be on the supreme court,” I tell him with a sigh, and I’m not ruling it out. “ I need to get myself into Harvard. I want to be the next RBG.”
He laughs. “You could do it. You know my dad went to Harvard. He has connections.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Yeah, he knows the Dean of the law department quite well. He’s the guy with all the power and if he likes you, he can get you great internship opportunities. I met him a few times myself.”
Wow, it’s nice to have connections, but I’m not about to ask for an introduction. None of that feels right to me. “Maybe you should have thought about law, then.”
“Nah, it was never for me, much to my father’s disappointment.”
“He can’t be disappointed that you’re a football star, Christian.”
“You wouldn’t think,” he says with a smirk that holds a hint of remorse. I take it he doesn’t like disappointing his father.
“Wait until you make it in the NFL.”
He shrugs. “Maybe then he’ll come see a game.”
My heart stalls, and I don’t want to make too big a deal of it, but it upsets me that in all his years playing, his father never once went to see one of his games. That’s not right on so many levels. He’s not looking for pity. He’s telling me something very private, and probably something hard for him to say, so I stay silent, and give his hand a squeeze, saying everything I need to through touch, and from his smile, he clearly appreciates that.
“About the music and partying,” he says. “We won’t have to worry about it over the Thanksgiving weekend. After our Friday night game, most ballers go home, so the place is quiet.”
“Are you going home after the game?”
He shakes his head and I don’t miss the hint of sadness in his eyes. “No, that’s Mom’s big shopping weekend with her friends and Dad won’t be there, so there’s no point.”
“Oh.” I pause, unsure what to say. “I’ll be going home.” My throat tightens at the thoughts of him being here alone and Mom’s words ping in my head.
Will you be bringing anyone with you?
I open my mouth, not sure whether to ask. That’s crossing a boundary, and I’d be so embarrassed if he said no or laughed at me.
He nods, and looks across the room, but his thoughts suddenly seem a million miles away. “I guess I’ll do the usual and go skiing in Aspen.”
I’ve never been to Aspen. I’ve never even been skiing. “That’s sounds amazing, Christian.”
He gives a shrug, like he’s indifferent about it. “Why don’t you…come,” he says. “Come to think of it, the Dean of the law department spends time in Aspen. I’ve skied with his daughter many times over the years.”
I wince like I’d just been stabbed with a hot poker. Now where did that crazy burst of jealousy come from? I’ve seen Christian with many girls. Not since we’ve been living together or whatever it is we’re doing, but still.
“Wow, that is awesome. Maybe she’ll be there again.” I put on my best smile and hope he can’t see the ridiculous cracks in it. I have no right to be jealous, like no right at all.
He nudges me. “Too bad you couldn’t come. I could have introduced you to Dean Saunders.”
I laugh. “I’m injured, Christian, and I’ve never been on skis. One concussion this semester is enough.”
“You could be healed by then, or you could stay in the chalet and drink hot chocolate.”
“While that all sounds tempting, I have plans with my mother that I just can’t break.” I kept her from coming to see me a couple of weekends ago, and she’d be devastated if I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, although she’d probably be all for me going to Aspen with a boy.
“I get it. Family is important.” He turns away, but not before I catch the little lost boy look on his face. My throat tightens, pretty sure I’m reading him wrong—seeing things that aren’t there. This is Christian Moore, star football player, every girl’s fantasy come to life. No way is he lonely. He can’t be, right?
His father doesn’t go to his games, Maize.
As I consider that, the receptionist calls my name, and I lift my head to find two deep blue eyes staring at me with great concern. “Want me to come in with you?” he offers.
“No, I’m a big girl, Christian,” I tease with a grin. “I can take care of myself.”
“Right, I know. I’ll be here waiting,” he tells me and my stupid heart squeezes tight at his sweetness. I like the way he takes care of me and dotes on me at every turn. I love the way he always wants to be there for me, when really he bought me and I’m supposed to be doing things for him, but no, he’s been cooking and cleaning and pampering me. I’m not used to it, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted it at first, but dammit, he’s proving to be so much more than a jock out for his own pleasure. Which really sucks,
