And then there were two, which feels . . . odd. Yet with Lincoln, it was easy.
Deacon moves to Lincoln’s seat, so he’s sitting across from me. “How’s your day been so far?”
I run my tongue over my teeth, hoping there’s no leftover salad bits stuck in them while I use all the energy in my body not to look at Lincoln’s retreating back. “Pretty good,” I answer. “Nothing too thrilling besides all the nipple talk. You?”
“Good. Hit the weight room earlier this morning and now getting ready to go to the library to study. Where are you headed to next?”
“I have class in an hour and a half. I could probably go to the library with you if you don’t mind company.”
“I’d like that.” Then he smiles, and even though his dimples poke through his cheeks—making him look extra adorable—I don’t feel the stirring of energy I feel with Lincoln. This feels like friendship.
Whereas Lincoln? When he smirks, laughs, puts his arm around me or on the back of my chair, it twists my insides, makes my knees feel weak, and causes me to lose my breath at times. That feels terrifying.
After we return the salad trays, we head down the stairs toward the library. Deacon bumps my shoulder and says, “You’re quiet.”
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“About Lincoln?” he asks, straightforward and upfront.
There’s no use lying to Deacon, and it wouldn’t be fair to him, so I decide to tell him the truth. “Yeah, a little.”
“Figured. I saw it in the way your eyes saddened when he left.”
“They didn’t sadden.”
Deacon lightly chuckles. “One thing I pride myself in is being observant. On the field, I watch all the guys, look for their tells, and that overlaps into real life. When Lincoln announced that he was taking off, I saw the drop in your eyes, the tiniest turn down of your lips. It’s okay, Indie. I get it.”
I grip the folder Lincoln gave me tightly, pressing it into my chest, wishing I didn’t have these weird feelings flowing through me. I wish I could forget about them, let them go, and move on, but every time I even hear the mention of Lincoln’s name, my mind reacts in a way that sends a signal through my entire body, warming it up from the inside out.
“It’s . . . complicated,” I reply, feeling so guilty that my stomach grows nauseous. “And it just came out of nowhere, Deacon. I don’t want you thinking—”
“Hey.” He stops me and pulls me into a hug, his strong arms so similar to Rusty’s that they instantly comfort me. “It’s okay, I get it. I really do. I saw the way you kept looking at him the other night and I thought maybe there was something there but wasn’t too sure.”
“There’s nothing there,” I say. “I mean, nothing of substance. We’re friends and I mean that.”
He holds me out by my shoulders and studies me. “I see that, and it looks like a pure friendship.”
I twist my lips to the side, wondering how Deacon became such a good guy. Their parents must be amazing people to raise two such empathetic and kind individuals.
I sigh and say, “Well, it doesn’t matter either way, because we’re just not on the same path, so . . .” I shrug, unsure how to finish that sentence.
“Maybe your paths will cross at some point. Come on.” He takes my hand in his and walks me toward the library. “Let’s get some studying done.” And right then I understand the pull I have with Deacon. He’s just like Rusty. With Rusty, I felt immediate friendship, like you would with a long-lost cousin. And it’s here with Deacon too. At least he knows where I stand . . . I think. But do I know?
Deacon: Thanks for the study sesh the other day, I got so much done.
Indie: So you said.
Deacon: Okay, I’m awkward and weird and don’t know how to talk to girls. But I was wondering if you wanted to go out for pizza or something? Strictly as friends.
Indie: Strictly as friends, huh?
Deacon: Yeah, figured I could at least get you to hook me up with one of the girls on your team, given you’re not interested.
Indie: Who’s to say I’m not interested?
Deacon: Both of us.
Indie: LOL. Want me to bring Scarlett?
Deacon: As a potential love interest?
Indie: Problem number one: saying potential love interest. And Scarlett is not for you. I love her like a sister and I’m telling you right now, she’s too much for you to handle.
Deacon: I can feel that. As long as she’s not taking off to masturbate in the restaurant bathroom, I’m cool.
Indie: Can’t make any promises. Does six work? At Deluca’s?
Deacon: Works for me. See you then.
“Are you using me as a shield?” Scarlett asks, blowing a bubble with the gum in her mouth.
“A shield? What are you talking about?”
“Deacon asks you out to pizza and you bring me along. It’s obvious you don’t want to be alone with him.”
“I was alone with him the other day in the library.”
We walk along the sidewalk, toward Deluca’s, which is a few blocks away from our house, one of the reasons I chose it. If I don’t have to drive somewhere, I try not to.
“Okay, so why am I here? Isn’t this like a date or something?” Scarlett has an ice pack on her head. We came straight from practice where she crashed into a freshman today who wasn’t paying attention. They hit head on head, the crushing sound of their skulls a sickening sound that’s finally starting to fade out of my memory, thank God. When they got up, I could already see the welt forming on a very unhappy Scarlett, so I can understand the current attitude right now.
“It’s not a date. We came to an understanding that we’re just going to be friends.”
“Look at you.” Scarlett pats me on the back. “Friend-zoning every hot guy that comes within a five-foot radius of you. Hope you’re good with celibacy during the season. Lord knows, I’m not. Which reminds me, please tell me we’re going to Hartley’s house this weekend. I could really use a hookup at this point. The vibrator is not getting the job done.”
“We can,” I say, even though I was already planning on it.
“Thank God. I’m going to find myself a beefy football player to get it on with. Maybe Hutton.”
“Scarlett, you’re better than that.”
She taps her chin with her finger. “I’m really not. I have no problem going to the king of orgasms looking for a release. No problem at all.”
When we arrive at Deluca’s I reach for the door and Scarlett pulls me to the side. “Just so I have everything straight. This isn’t a date, you’re not looking to date Deacon, and we’re here to try to find someone else to hook him up with?”
“Pretty much.”
“And you’re paying for my pizza?”
“Yes,” I say on a sigh.
“Okay.” She motions to the door. “Then let’s go, I need to sit down and remove this ice.”
We walk into the restaurant and immediately spot Deacon sitting in a booth in the back. It’s hard to miss him. What on earth did their parents feed those burly boys?