The Introvert's Guide to Speed Dating (The Introvert's Guide, #2)

by Emma Hart

  I knew London wanted forever. She wasn’t willing to settle for anything less than that in her life, and I couldn’t have respected her more for it.

  I hadn’t been lying when I told her that the only reason I wanted to go was because I didn’t have a reason to stay.

  But did I now? And if I did, was it a big enough one?

  I reached into my locker and pulled out my phone.

  ME: Are you in your office? We need to talk.

  I dried off and pulled on my clothes while I waited for the response. My phone buzzed against the wooden bench, and I checked the message.

  SEB: Come on up.

  ***

  It took me mere minutes to make my way to Seb’s spacious office. It was light and airy because it was where he spoke to parents who were interested in sending their kids to the center. The wall outside was covered in flyers and programs selling all the services, and I picked up a couple that had fallen to the floor and put them back in.

  I knocked on his door.

  “It’s open.”

  I pushed it inward and poked my head through. “You good to talk?”

  “Give me two minutes, then yes.” He smiled over the top of his laptop, and I closed the door behind me before taking a seat on the sofa.

  His trophies were everywhere. I’d never seen anyone have as many as he did, and I didn’t even know what half of them were. Photos of him in his pro and amateur days adorned the wall opposite me, and there was a box marked ‘NEW PHOTOS’ under the window.

  That looked like Holley’s writing.

  No wonder it was all still in the box.

  “Right, done.” Seb looked over at me.

  “Anyone ever told you that you need an assistant?”

  “Daily. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to talk about the football teams.”

  He blinked. “The soccer teams. Right. What about them?”

  “What are the plans?” I asked, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. “What are the tournaments like around there? Are there any leagues that don’t require a lot of travel? How will you split out the current classes without stepping on any toes? Will you hire anyone else to run the soccer part of the center?”

  Seb sat back but said nothing.

  “Will you get AstroTurf put in so they can play outside even if it’s wet? Grass is great, but not if they’re always slipping up. Slipping up doesn’t win football games. Ask Steven Gerrard.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Never mind. Starting these teams isn’t a walk in the park, and if you want me involved, I need to know that you know what you’re doing.”

  A smile spread slowly across Seb’s face. “I don’t need to know what I’m doing, do I?”

  “Of course you do.”

  “No, I don’t. Not if I have you.” He tilted his head to the side, smile still in place. “I wasn’t going to do this yet, but since you asked…” He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a brown envelope, only to throw it on the desk. “There. Look at that.”

  “What is it?”

  “Get it and see.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I got up and walked to the desk to pick up the envelope. It was thick, and when I reached in and pulled it out, I froze. Contract of Employment was written at the top of the top sheet of paper. “What’s this?”

  He motioned for me to keep going.

  Director of Soccer.

  “Director of Soccer? What does that mean? Is that—is this for me?” I stared at Seb in disbelief.

  “Like I said, I wasn’t going to offer it to you yet, but you came up here for a reason.” He scratched his chin. “I’d bet that had something to do with your date with London last night, but yes, it’s yours. I don’t know a damn thing about soccer.” He laughed. “Dylan talked it over with me, and I realized that I can’t run the soccer section. I can do the baseball, but I don’t know what goes in to building a good soccer team. You do.”

  “I—” I cleared my throat. “What does this mean?”

  “Well, you’d get your own office. You’d handle the scheduling of all the soccer classes. You’ll form the teams and do all the necessary registrations and things like that. I still want you to be the coach of the actual teams we’re forming, but you’ll probably need to hire out the other sessions. There are provisions for an assistant coach for you and an admin assistant if you find you need one.”

  I looked down at the contract.

  “It’s a long contract, so don’t rush into it. Mason and Fortescue are the legal team I work with here, they’ll happily look over the contract and make sure it’s above board, and it won’t be the lawyer I work with, either. Take your time to decide. It’s a big job.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything. Not right now. A week would be great.”

  I forced out a laugh and slid the contract back into the envelope. “Right. Thank you. I really appreciate this, I’m just in a bit of shock.”

  “Why?” Seb smirked. “You walked in here asking the questions. If you can answer them all, Ollie, then you already know you’re cut out for the job.”

  I could.

  I knew I could find all of that information in a heartbeat, and if I couldn’t, I knew a woman who was very, very good at researching.

  “Take it and think it over for a few days,” he said after a moment of me staring at the envelope. “I’m open to other suggestions, but it’s all yours if you want it. For what it’s worth, I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have do that.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled and walked toward the door. “How long have you been keeping hold of this? And how much did Dylan put you up to this?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  ***

  I sat on my sofa and stared at the envelope. I hadn’t taken it out all day because I was…

  Afraid was the wrong word.

  Apprehensive?

  I’d been in professional sports long enough that I knew how much work this position would be. I’d essentially be running an entire miniature department in the sports center, but that wasn’t too different to what Dylan did. He ran the gym and exercise classes and hired all the people who ran the classes and the personal trainers.

  It made sense to hand the departments to people who knew the sport.

  You wouldn’t make LeBron James teach yoga, would you?

  Although…

  I shook my head and grabbed the envelope. I had to open it. I’d been staring at it all day, and it was time I pulled on my big boy pants and looked at it.

  I pulled it out and the job title followed by my name jumped out at me.

  The hours were similar to what I did now, but better scheduled out. The only crazy ones were the training times, but it looked as if Seb had already carved out a schedule for the team.

  A team I got to name.

  I swallowed. This was a big contract—this was the founding of the soccer teams in White Peak, teams I knew Seb hoped would become a part of the town’s legacy and of his own.

  Was I the right person to do this?

  I skimmed the rest of the contract. It basically left it all up to me, from the hiring of the soccer staff to the allocation of the very large budget he wanted to invest, plus the money from the sponsorship from the newspaper. A bright yellow Post-It note was stuck to that page that said there was another sponsorship in the works that I would have to finalize if I accepted.

  Oh, hell.

  I had no business skills.

  I knew nothing about running a business, which is what he was asking of me.

  Could I do it?

  I checked the time. It was getting late, and I honestly didn’t know if my dad would be awake right now. He was the only person I felt like I could talk to about this right now, though.

  I dialed his number on my phone. If he was awake, we could switch to video chat, but I didn’t want to mess about with that if he was asleep.
r />   No answer.

  I sighed.

  I should have known it would be too late.

  This… this was when I felt the loneliest. I knew nobody really outside the circle of friends I had, and Dylan had already given me all the advice he could.

  Plus, he knew about this.

  I couldn’t message London, could I?

  It didn’t seem like the kind of thing I could go to her about right now, especially after our date. I didn’t want to push her into talking to me, especially about something like this.

  Something that would commit my future to White Peak.

  I put the contract down on the table and sat back on the sofa. This was tough. Really tough.

  It should have been a no brainer, but now I had to ask myself… what if I said yes? And London told me no anyway?

  Could I stay here knowing that I can picture myself being with her?

  Making pizza in her kitchen with Leo?

  Making her laugh and kissing her on the porch?

  Taking her for dinner?

  Buying her flowers?

  But not just that. The mundane, too. The everyday. Doing her dishes. Carrying Leo to bed when he’s too tired. Making a bed. Picking Legos up from under the dining table. Finding three socks stashed down the back of her sofa and putting them in the laundry room because I knew how much that bugged her.

  All of that. All of that stuff…

  Fuck.

  I wanted that with her.

  I wanted it more badly than I thought I did.

  Could it be possible that I was already falling in love with her? With her son, too? I’d always pictured myself as a father someday, but I’d never planned on falling for someone who came with a child already.

  Not that it mattered. I wasn’t sure I could stop myself feeling this way even if I wanted to.

  I leaned my head on the back of the sofa and reached for the remote with one hand and my phone with the other. I couldn’t sit here in silence much longer or I’d drive myself nuts, so I turned on the TV and checked my phone again.

  New message.

  London.

  LONDON: Did I leave my shoes in your car?

  ME: Hold on. Let me check.

  I got up and went out to my car, confirming that her shoes were on my backseat. Where she’d thrown them… Not because of anything else.

  Sadly.

  ME: Yep, on the backseat.

  LONDON: Bollocks.

  ME: Never should have taught you that word.

  LONDON: Disagree, it’s fucking fabulous.

  ME: You’re not wrong. Want me to bring the shoes over tomorrow? Or get them at practice?

  I shut the door behind me and returned to my spot on the sofa.

  LONDON: I’ll get them after practice. That okay?

  ME: There’s no practice tomorrow. It was canceled to let the kids rest. I can bring them over?

  LONDON: Oh, it’s fine. I can get them on Wednesday.

  ME: You sure?

  LONDON: Yeah. How was your day?

  Wasn’t that a loaded bloody question?

  ME: Long. Yours?

  LONDON: Tonight’s shower was a forty-five-minute argument. Apparently Dad didn’t make him shower every day so I am the most horrible person in the whole world.

  ME: I concur. You sound awful.

  LONDON: I am. God forbid my child be clean. The horror!

  ME: Did he at least shower?

  LONDON: We compromised on a bath. I’m tired. Gotta pick your battles.

  ME: That’s true.

  LONDON: Are you busy at lunch tomorrow?

  What now?

  ME: No.

  LONDON: Do you want to come over?

  ME: For lunch?

  LONDON: Don’t get excited. I have an ulterior motive.

  ME: If it’s to get in my pants, you can say so.

  LONDON: Crap. You caught me.

  ME: …

  LONDON: I need a shelf putting up. I am Very Bad at DIY. My uncle is busy.

  ME: I like how very bad was in capitals.

  LONDON: That’s how bad I am. I can cook anything and write well but the second a screwdriver is in my hand, I panic.

  ME: Probably because a screwdriver won’t help you put up a shelf.

  LONDON: I’ll feed you.

  ME: London, I’ll put a shelf up for you. All you have to do is ask.

  LONDON: I just felt a bit weird asking after… you know.

  ME: Why? I’d rather you were honest with me. If you’d kept all that inside it would just fuck things up before we even had a chance to try.

  LONDON: I suppose.

  ME: Like you, I’m not interested in flings. They hold no appeal to me. I want a real relationship and they involve a lot of honest communication.

  LONDON: You’re right.

  LONDON: Damn, be a jerk for once.

  ME: Can’t.

  ME: If I’m coming over, I’ll bring your shoes with me.

  LONDON: Oh, good idea. I’m going to bed. Have to head to the center early to interview the team starting the swimming lessons in two weeks.

  ME: Forgot about those. Sleep tight.

  LONDON: You, too. Xo

  I stared at my phone screen for a long minute.

  Was the shelf an excuse? To spend time with me?

  Fuck, I hoped so.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN – LONDON

  RULE FOURTEEN: ALWAYS WEAR A CUTE DRESS. YOU NEVER KNOW WHO YOU’LL RUN INTO.

  Butterflies wriggled in my belly as I looked out of the window, waiting for Ollie’s black car to pull up.

  Honestly, this was ridiculous.

  Did he see right through my shelf ruse? Did he know it was nothing more than a ploy to get him to come over?

  Ooh, I was so obvious. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Ivy. What did she know? This was ridiculous.

  Oh, he knew.

  He so knew this was fake.

  Why was I even doing it? I still didn’t know what I wanted to do. I still had to think about Leo. I still had to think about me.

  Could I take another heartbreak if he left?

  Could I be in the same room as Ollie and not kiss him?

  What if I said no to dating now and he decided to stay? Would he want to try then? Or would I be too late?

  What if that happened and he met someone new?

  Oh, no.

  I didn’t think I could take that.

  My feelings for Ollie were rapidly growing. I just… didn’t know what to do about anything.

  Oh, bollocks.

  Man, I love that word.

  His car pulled up on the driveway.

  Oh, crap, he was here.

  Now what?

  Now what did I do?

  Get the shelf out of the packaging, I supposed.

  Where was it even going?

  I didn’t need a shelf.

  What was I doing with my life?

  Why hadn’t I thought about where the shelf was going?

  Leo’s room. That’s it. Leo’s room. It was going in there.

  Yes. Definitely.

  Phew.

  Okay.

  Deep breaths, London.

  Ollie knocked at the door, and I darted to open it far faster than I should have.

  Seriously.

  What was wrong with me?

  “Hi.” I smiled at him, hoping I didn’t look as flustered as I felt. “Thank you for this. I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m not working today since we canceled practice, so it’s fine.” Ollie beamed at me as he came in and lifted up a small box. “Got my tools. I figured you don’t have a drill. Where’s it going?”

  He figured right.

  “Leo’s room,” I said too quickly. I coughed. “Sorry. Leo’s room. Um, I thought I’d do a Cajun chicken salad for lunch. Is that okay?”

  “Sounds great. Show me where you want this shelf.”

  I picked it up from the sofa and motioned for him to follow me upstairs. He already kne
w where Leo’s room was, obviously, but he dutifully trotted along behind me until we got there.

  “Where do you want it putting up?” He looked around the room. “Posters everywhere.”

  Yeah, didn’t think that one through.

  “Above the dresser,” I said, walking over to the giant Pikachu poster. “We’re redecorating anyway,” I lied.

  “Okay. How high?”

  I pulled the poster down and reached up to pull the remaining tack off the walls. “About here?” I gestured with my hand.

  “Sure. Can you just watch and make sure I get it straight?”

  “Uh-huh.” I put the poster on Leo’s bed and waited until he handed me a long stick with bright yellow liquid in. It was like a flat hourglass, but with liquid instead of sand. “What’s this?”

  “A spirit level. Shows me when the shelf is flat, but I can’t always see it.” He held the shelf up against the wall. “Can you set it on the shelf?”

  I put it in the middle where I knew he could see it. “There okay?”

  “Perfect.” He adjusted the shelf, and the liquid inside the stick moved until it was perfectly in the middle. “Can you get the pen from my toolbox and draw a couple of lines under the shelf?”

  “Draw on the wall?”

  “I need to know where to drill.” Ollie’s voice almost broke with laughter. “You won’t see it, I swear.”

  “Okay.” Hesitantly, I approached the wall with the pen. I couldn’t reach it unless I ducked under his arm, which meant I’d be right up against him. “Where should I mark it?”