I wrap his clammy hand in mine. “Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry.” I think back to how he braved that rainstorm to drop me off at the airport, and a little piece of my heart falls hard for him.
“I can’t deal with how much it must’ve hurt my sister for her to think I didn’t want to see her.”
The anguish in his voice kills me, and my eyes water. “She knows you love her and that you’re doing your best.”
He squeezes my hand. “I tried to do things for her that would help her. Without her knowing. I was too embarrassed to come right out and tell her what I was going through. My uncle is kind of a tough man, and I didn’t grow up talking about my feelings, but he’s done a lot for me, so I’m grateful.”
“But you’re also conflicted.”
“Really conflicted.”
“I’m sure it’s hard to reconcile those emotions.”
“Fuck yeah, it is.”
This beautiful, passionate man has so many layers.
A question comes to mind, and I know the answer before I ever voice it. “Did you by any chance pay part of your sister’s rent last year?”
His eyes widen in surprise. “How’d you know that?”
“My landlord, when I asked why the rent went up so much this year.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry. I paid it in a lump sum back in January for the entire semester, and since she was graduating, I didn’t think about it again.”
“It’s okay.” God, he’s sweet. Even with those rough edges. “But Gabby said you hadn’t any idea she lived across the street when you moved in with Rider last summer.”
“That’s true. I didn’t know. The year before, I had a friend who worked in the student housing department, and since all students have to register where they’re living off-campus, he had access to the landlord info. I just called the dude. Hadn’t a clue what I was paying for, though.”
“That helped her—both of us, really—so much. Thank you. If you need me to pay you back for what you paid last year, I can probably swing it.”
He shakes his head. “I’m glad it helped you guys out. Wish I could’ve done more.”
I study the sincerity in his eyes and wish I could hug him, but we’re lying in bed together, and I don’t want to give the wrong impression. As much as we’re bonding tonight, I can’t forget how much drama Janelle brings to the table. Pretty sure Ben wouldn’t want to start anything with me when he’s dealing with her just when training camp is about to kick off.
“Gabby says you text her updates more often, and that she loves hearing from you,” I say. “Just keep it up as much as you can. That will mean the world to her. Even if you can’t call.”
“Thanks for the advice. I will. In fact, I need to tell her what’s going on with Lily, but that’s a big conversation.”
“She’ll be ready when you are.” I squeeze his hand again and let go. “And I’m always happy to listen. I understand what it’s like to not have anyone to talk to.”
He studies me for a moment. “Did something happen to you when you were a kid too? I mean, if you’re comfortable talking about it.”
I nibble on my lip, debating what to say. I hate that I can’t just come out and tell him about my family, but I’ve been betrayed so many times, and I have to be careful. “Just my parents’ divorce. I hadn’t realized their arguments meant they were headed for splitsville. It felt so sudden, but in retrospect, if I’d been older, maybe I would’ve noticed the signs. My older brothers weren’t all that surprised, but then they’re super smart.”
“You’re super smart. I don’t know any other woman who quotes Emerson.”
I laugh because I guess he has a point. “I like big books and I cannot lie. But that’s not the kind of intelligence my family appreciates. My dad’s a tech geek, and so are my brothers. They code for fun. And trust me, I tried to take a coding class once, but when I stared at my laptop, those symbols might as well have been hieroglyphs for how much they made sense to me.”
“It’s tough when you can’t meet people’s expectations. I feel like my whole football career revolves around that. Will I make the team? Will I be a starter? Will I get the scholarship? Will I get drafted? When you’re a kid and you’re playing, it’s fun. For me, it was an outlet for my anger and frustration, but in high school it started to crystalize into something legit. Then you get older and realize all it takes is a few bad games, hell, a few bad plays, to piss off everyone in your life—your coaches, your teammates, the fans.”
Aww, Ben. “That sucks. But guess what?”
“Hmm?”
“You could never piss me off by having an off day on the field. I’d cheer for you regardless of how good or bad you were doing.”
“Thanks, sunshine. Appreciate that.”
We talk until we can’t keep our eyes open. It’s one of the best nights I can remember.
And I get the sneaking suspicion it’s because I like him more than I should.
18
BEN
A warm body is draped over me.
Tits are pressed to my chest and a lean thigh is draped over mine. My dick is on board with this plan, I think drowsily.
I wrap my arms around her, shoving my nose into her hair.
The scent is warm. Like vanilla and sunshine.
Sienna.
Oh, fuck. My eyes fly open as she wakes up and stares down at me with a sleepy smile.
But then she either realizes she’s practically lying on top of me or that she’s crushing my morning wood, because she springs off me and stumbles out of the bed.
“I’m so sorry, Ben. I don’t know why I’m mauling you.” She shoves her hair out of her face.
In the morning light, I take in her fresh face. No makeup. The bruising has healed, and she’s so damn pretty. Just those big inquisitive eyes and long lashes. All that sexy hair drapes over her shoulders and gives me teasing glimpses of her hard little nipples beneath her thin tank.
“It’s okay. I didn’t hate it,” I tease.
No, I loved having her in my arms.
A pretty flush heats her cheeks, and I sit up and hunch forward to try to cover the erection tenting the sheet. I’m about to make a joke about it when she says she needs to use the bathroom and darts out of the room.
Christ. Maybe rooming together wasn’t the best idea, but hell if I can complain. I love hanging out with that girl. And waking up with her is even better.
At the same time, though, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
I hear voices in the kitchen, and when she returns, she offers me a tentative smile and hands me a breakfast burrito.
She sits next to me on the bed. “No matter what happens, Ben, I don’t want any weirdness between us, okay? You mean too much to me to screw up our friendship.”
I nod slowly because, yeah, I feel the same way.
She tugs on my pinky with hers. “A good friend is like a four-leaf clover. Hard to find and lucky to have.”
“Another philosopher?”
“An Irish proverb.”
We can absolutely keep this thing in the friend zone.