“Next time, huh?” I grabbed a stirrer and a napkin at the service station. “What makes you so sure I’d share with your grouchy ass again?”
“Because you’re too good a person.” He looked away as he removed the straw from the wrapper. “You’d feel bad for me again. Must be my charm rubbing off.”
I could see a trace of a smile as I followed him toward the exit. He was enjoying our banter as much as I was, but would never admit it.
The rain hadn’t let up, so we picked up the soggy cardboard we’d left under the awning and headed toward the library.
Once there, we took the stairs to the second-floor study section and quickly realized how crowded the place was. Must’ve been because of the storm. There wasn’t a single seat open at any of the tables, and groups of students were sitting on the floor with books spread all around them.
“Maybe there’s a private room available,” I said, heading toward the back where the library kept a long row of study rooms behind glass doors to offer a quieter place to study.
“Looks like they’re all taken,” Maclain said in a defeated tone.
Right then a nerdy-looking guy with glasses emerged from one of the rooms, and I grappled for the door handle before it shut behind him. “Perfect timing.”
I slipped into the small room and sank down in one of the two plastic chairs sitting side by side in front of a slim table built into the wall. There was barely enough room for Maclain to squeeze by me to the other seat, and I tried to ignore his hesitation. I could feel it as he gripped the chair, likely considering his options.
I set my bag down on the floor and pulled out my notebook, intent on studying despite any hang-ups Maclain had about being alone with me in this room. Unless there was another reason.
“You suffer from claustrophobia or something?” I asked over my shoulder.
That seemed to jar him out of his reluctance, and he sank down beside me. “Nope.”
When his thigh brushed mine, I held my breath and pretended not to hear his quick intake of air.
I paged through my book, absently reading the familiar concepts while savoring having him so near. He smelled like rain and a spicy scent I’d noticed a couple of times before in the locker room. I briefly considered what it might be like to inspect him closer, where the fragrance would be most potent—his neck, maybe, or his hair. I quickly thrust the thought aside before I did something stupid like popping a boner.
As he reached down to retrieve a textbook from his bag, our elbows connected, and the hairs on my arm stood on end. I had no clue why this guy made me feel this way, but I sure wished I could get it all out in the open right the fuck now.
Dumb idea. He might flee the room and become even more reserved. I could live with this tension for a few more months, even if it was eating me alive.
Maclain opened to a page in his notebook, and his eyes appeared to be reading the notations, but I never saw him flip the page. For my part, I was pretending as well, while admiring the doodles in his notebook’s side margins. Tiny stick figures with dialogue boxes, one that said boring in bold letters. Another little detail about him that I’d keep tucked away.
“What do you see yourself doing with your degree?” I asked as Maclain shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to meet my eyes.
“I thought we were studying, not having another heart-to-heart.”
“Is that what we’ve been doing?” I lobbed back. “I thought we were just becoming friends.”
He fiddled with his pen, the movement becoming more agitated. “Why the hell do you care so much?”
“Why do you not?”
“I don’t need any more friends.”
“You’re full of crap,” I said through a clenched jaw. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to be friends with me? My family owns a bowling alley, so there are perks.”
“Like fountain soda and foosball?” he joked, finally looking at me.
I laughed, then sobered as we did that staring thing again. “To answer your question, I’m doing this for Coach. And for our team. I would think you’d want the same thing.”
“I do. Of course, I do. I just…”
More staring.
“What?” I softened my voice as my pulse thundered in my ears. “Just say it.”
He looked from my eyes down to my lips as our knees pressed together. I didn’t think it was by accident, and I felt a bit breathless from the contact as well as the close quarters.
“I’m not used to… I’ve just never been friends with such an annoying person. I mean, what did you do—stalk me outside my building and plan the whole cardboard umbrella thing?”
“Yes, of course. I was dying to get soaking wet just so I could walk with you, our almighty star pitcher. My life depends on your friendship.”
There was a moment of silence right before our laughter echoed in the hollow space.
“Let’s get to studying, Maclain, because you’re starting to smell like a wet dog.”
“Screw you,” he said, knocking my shoulder, and there we were, back on even ground.
And then we actually did study alone together in the small space, both trying to ignore all the tension.
We were so lost in our thoughts that a sharp rap on the door startled us.
Hollister pulled open the door, Lopez standing behind him. “How the hell did you score a room? This place is mobbed.”
I glanced at the time on my phone. “Here, take my place. I gotta get to class.”
Grabbing my bag, I slipped out the door without giving Maclain the satisfaction of another glance.
11
Maclain
We filed onto the bus for our weekend away, this time in North Carolina against a team that was considered stiff competition last year. We were all spread out, and I pretended not to notice where Girard had landed a few rows behind me. Things had remained cool between us. As cool as could be after the coffee/library thing, when I nearly combusted from being so close to him. I could barely concentrate on my test that afternoon, but thankfully, I pulled it off, then promptly went home to jerk off. At least it helped relieve some of the tension, but I wasn’t sure it would ever completely leave me as long as he was around, and I didn’t know what to do about that.
Right before the bus took off, Kellan came around with refreshments he’d lugged from the clubhouse. He handed out bottled waters, and we dug into his box of snacks, most of us steering clear of Donovan’s beloved blue gummies and Lopez’s Snickers. When he got to me, he reached inside, then tossed a bag of candy in my lap.
“Girard told me you love Bit-O-Honey, so I stocked up for you.”
“What the hell?” I twisted my head toward the back of the bus and met Girard’s eyes. “You told him that?”
He shrugged, a smug look on his face. “What? It’s true.”
“Is not,” I bit out.
“Aww, look, a lovers’ quarrel,” Fischer said, and everyone laughed.
“Screw you.” My entire body heated and that shame slid into place as I faced forward again.
Kellan was staring at me. “So…was Girard pranking you? I shouldn’t have bought them?”