Summer Fling (Players of Marycliff University Book 1)

by MacMillan, Jerica

  When the waitress returned with his credit card, Lance signed the slip, and they both got up to leave. Abby could feel the heat of his hand on the small of her back through her shirt as he ushered her out the door of the restaurant.

  Lance opened Abby's door again for her to get in the car. It caught her off guard every time. She reached for the handle, when suddenly his hand was there, swooping in and pulling the door open before she could. When she looked at him he just grinned.

  Lance buckled himself in and started the car. "Where do you live?"

  "Vista View Estates. Do you know where it is?" Lots of Marycliff students lived there.

  "The one a couple blocks from the science building?" Abby nodded. "I know where that is."

  The night had cooled off more now that it was nearing midnight. Abby left her window up. The ten minute drive to her apartment passed in silence, the rumble of the engine and the tires on the asphalt the only soundtrack.

  Abby stared out her window, trying to puzzle through this evening. Maybe she was just too much of a pushover. First, Megan coerced her into going to the party with her. Then after running into Lance she got pushed into going out for pie wearing his t-shirt. What she couldn't figure out was why Lance had wanted to take her out, and why he wouldn't just take her home to change first. And he kept touching her. They were all innocent touches. She doubted he even realized he was doing it, and what it was doing to her.

  This is probably the weirdest night ever.

  "Which building is yours?" The sound of Lance's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned to him.

  "What? Oh. I'm in C5. It's down over there on the right, the bottom corner unit."

  Lance pulled into a parking spot near her building. Abby got out and as she closed the door, she looked up and saw that Lance had gotten out, too.

  "What are you doing?"

  He looked at her like that was a dumb question. "Walking you to your door." It almost sounded like he wanted to say, "Duh," at the end of that sentence.

  Abby started walking toward her door, pulling the long t-shirt out of the way so she could get to her pocket to pull out her key. Lance fell in step beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat he gave off.

  She glanced at him when they reached her door. "Thanks." She started to unlock the deadbolt and stopped. "Oh, your shirt." She realized belatedly that he must be expecting her to change and give it back to him before he left. Then she remembered that she'd left her shirt on his bathroom floor. "Wait, my shirt."

  He flashed her another smile. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it from you another time. Why don't you give me your phone number and we'll figure it out later." He handed her his phone so she could put her number in. She looked up at him, hesitating for a moment. Then she shrugged, typed in her number, and handed back his phone.

  He smiled and tapped on the phone screen. Abby felt the phone in her back pocket buzz with an alert. "There, now you have my number, too."

  "Great." Abby finished unlocking her door. With her hand on the doorknob she looked back up at Lance. "Well, thanks for the pie and . . . everything." She licked her lips and noticed Lance's gaze zero in on the movement. He was staring at her mouth. "Umm . . . it was . . . nice." He was still looking at her lips. Like maybe he wanted to kiss her or something. "Well, goodnight."

  Lance finally pulled his eyes back to hers. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Goodnight. I'll text you tomorrow so we can trade shirts back." He smiled at her and took a step closer.

  "Okay. Great. Talk to you later." Abby opened her door and stepped through, closing the door as quickly as she could while trying not to look like she was running away from him. But she was.

  She leaned against her closed door, turning the locks. "What the hell was that?"

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lance was frustrated. Annoyed.

  He was trying to work out his frustration in the weight room. It wasn't helping. He'd put enough weight on the bench press to set a new personal record to try to distract himself, but even that couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting back to the night before.

  Abby hadn't been overly talkative, but he figured she was just shy. She had sparred with him verbally off and on, but she'd clammed up when he'd asked more about her beyond the usual superficial questions.

  It was the goodnight that frustrated him the most. He'd been about to kiss her, and she had scampered away and closed the door. Most of the girls he walked to their doors were all flirting and smiles, waiting for him to make a move. But not Abby. Did she not realize that he was into her? Why else would he take her out for pie in the middle of the night?

  Oh, God. Maybe she wasn't into him. He put the bar back in the rack and sat up, grabbing his towel and wiping his face, thinking over that possibility. That would explain why he got all of her snark, and nothing more than the barest of personal details.

  It seemed possible that she might not be into him. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like he made her nervous. The way she'd darted inside seemed like she was scared, not disgusted. Wouldn't a girl who'd given him shit for staring at her wet shirt be up front about not liking him? If she didn't like him he wouldn't have been able to convince her to let him take her out. She'd have insisted that he just take her straight home and not put up with his bullshit of going home and changing first. She hadn't even protested that.

  She was just nervous, Lance decided. Feeling better, he racked the weights he'd used, wiped down the bench and bar, and went home.

  He'd found Abby's shirt on his bathroom floor when he'd gotten home the night before. He'd even held it to his face so he could smell her scent–lightly floral with hints of vanilla. Feeling like a creeper, he'd thrown it into his pile of dirty clothes.

  Once he was home he decided to start a load of laundry so he could wash Abby's shirt and give it back to her clean.

  He'd just shut the lid on the washing machine when his phone started buzzing with an incoming call. He glanced at the display quickly before answering. "Hey, Mom."

  "Hi, Lance. How's your weekend going?"

  He grabbed a beer out of the fridge on his way to the couch, settling in for his weekly phone call with his mom. "Good. Just doing some laundry."

  "Any interesting girls I should know about?"

  "Mom, if I start dating anyone I'll let you know."

  "You better. Now, how's your internship going?"

  Lance was glad for the neutral change of subject and happily talked about his job for the next twenty minutes.

  "It sounds like you're enjoying it and learning a lot."

  "I am."

  "Good. Do you think a lot of it will help when you come back here?"

  Lance paused, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess so." He should've known his mom would bring it back around to him coming home. She brought it up every week when they talked. That and asking about a girlfriend.

  The problem was that he didn't really want to go back home and help his dad run the family's mechanic shop. His parents had expected him to come home after graduation. He'd convinced them that the internship would teach him a lot about marketing in a business setting, outside of the classroom. He'd used a similar argument to get them to agree to him getting his degree in the first place—that it would help him to be able to run the family business better when he took over.

  The internship could lead to a job he really wanted. But he knew he was just delaying the inevitable. In August he would be packing up and heading back to Denton, so he could work on cars for eight to ten hours a day.

  "Lance, I know coming back here isn't what you really want." His mom's voice pulled him back to their conversation. "But we need you. Your dad needs you."

  Lance let out his breath slowly, resting his head in his hand. "I know. I'll be home in August, Mom."

  "Okay." In a more chipper tone she added, "And there are several young ladies here who'd love to meet you. I really think you'd hit it off with Shelley. Lauren's nice, too. I had lun
ch with her mom last week—you know my friend Linda? Well, I was telling her—"

  Lance broke in, needing to put a stop to where this was going. "Mom! No matchmaking."

  "But, Lance—"

  "I mean it, Mom. I don't want to be set up with anyone. Especially not the week I get back. Stop."

  "I just want you to be happy."

  "Running a bunch of random girls at me isn't the way to do it. I can find plenty of dates on my own."

  "But you haven't dated in months!"

  "Yes, I have. I go on plenty of dates."

  "But every week I ask about girls and you tell me there's no one. Now you're telling me you go on dates all the time? Both things can't be true."

  "No, you ask if there are any interesting girls or special girls. I don't usually go out with anyone more than once or twice." He cringed when he realized he'd just said that to his mom.

  "Why are you going out with them if you don't find them interesting or special?" Disapproval was seeping into her voice.

  "Because I like taking out girls for a night of fun. Just because I take a girl to dinner or something doesn't mean I want a relationship with her. And I'm not going to get your hopes up by telling you about some girl I don't plan on seeing again."

  Silence. "Lance Jonathan Kane, you better be treating those young ladies well."

  "Yes, ma'am. I am. I hold open their doors and act like a gentleman. I don't lead them on or trifle with their affections."

  She sniffed. "Good. If I find out otherwise, you'll have me to answer to."

  Lance couldn't help but smile. "Yes, ma'am."

  His mom was a stickler for gentlemanly behavior. She'd smack him upside the head the next time she saw him if she heard about what happened with Abby last night. Sure, he'd held all the doors for her. But staring at her boobs through her wet shirt and not taking her home right away would be grounds for smacking according to Elizabeth Kane. No son of hers would act that way and get away with it. Opening doors for ladies was expected. It didn't make up for poor behavior.

  After hanging up with his mom, Lance couldn't help but think about what he'd told her about the girls he saw. It was true, mostly. There'd been a couple he'd seen more than twice, but it had been quite a while. He liked pretty girls, and he liked flirting. He even liked what came after the flirting, but he hadn't liked any of those girls enough to really get to know them. They hadn't done anything to capture his interest beyond the physical.

  Until Abby.

  Abby intrigued him. She was pretty and snarky and didn't take any shit from him. He liked that about her. And she clammed up when he tried to get to know her better. Most of the girls he went out with could barely stop talking about themselves. He was always polite and let them talk, even if he didn't care about whatever they were prattling on about. With Abby the opposite had happened. He'd found himself talking more than she had.

  Maybe it was just that she was a challenge. Whatever it was, Lance was determined to find out more. He wanted to know what made her tick, why she'd ignored his question about going to school close to home. There was something there, and he wanted to know what it was. He'd let it go last night because he hadn't wanted to push too hard too soon. He didn't want to scare her off, and he'd already pushed his luck.

  And then she'd run away when he'd been about to kiss her. He hadn't planned on trying to take it further than a goodnight kiss. But he'd wanted to see if she still tasted like the chocolate pie she'd eaten. What that sassy mouth felt like pressed against his.

  Just as soon as her shirt was clean, he'd text her and make a plan to get together with her again. This time he'd get her to open up more. And this time he'd get that kiss.

  * * *

  Abby was lying in bed reading a book when her text alert went off. She'd been watching a movie in the living room, but Megan had a hangover and whined about the noise.

  Abby fumbled in the blankets until she found her phone. She pushed the button and wrinkled her brows in confusion when she saw the text. It was from a phone number she didn't recognize, not someone saved in her contacts. All it said was, "I have bad news."

  Panic fluttered in her belly as she slid her thumb across the screen to unlock the phone. Maybe something had happened to her mom and someone was trying to get ahold of her. Or it could be her brother. She hadn't heard from him in a while and he could have gotten a new number.

  When she opened the text she smiled. It was Lance. She hadn't bothered saving his number, barely glancing at the text he'd sent her. It said, "If I don't hear from you by 2:00 pm, you'll hear from me." She glanced at the time—it was a little after three. Well, he was keeping his word.

  What kind of bad news? she texted back.

  I think I need to tell you in person. You busy?

  Not really. Should I be worried?

  Okay, I'll come pick you up.

  No, I'll meet you somewhere. Answer my question.

  It'll be easier if I come get you. See you in 20.

  Abby grunted, slightly irritated, a little worried, but mostly curious. She didn't like being railroaded, and wasn't happy that Lance wouldn't agree to meet somewhere. She could just leave and stand him up, but then he'd bang on the door and that would piss off Megan. And then she'd have to hear Megan's opinion about Lance when she got back. She could guess what Megan would have to say, and wasn't really in the mood to listen to her best friend and roommate's dirty thoughts about a hot guy. If she were really honest with herself, she was looking forward to seeing him again more than she was annoyed with him. Crap.

  Abby looked down at the oversized t-shirt with her high school's name on it that she wore to sleep in and realized she needed to change. Now. She started for her closet and stopped. What should she wear to meet the guy she had a kind of date with last night? Screw it, she thought. I'm not going to dress up for the bossy guy who took me out in his old Superman t-shirt. She grabbed a t-shirt out of her clean laundry basket and threw it on with a pair of denim shorts. Sliding her feet into her flip flops, she stuffed her phone and keys into her bag and headed for the front door.

  A voice groaned from a pile of blankets on the couch. "What are you doing?"

  Abby laughed. "I'm meeting a friend. I'll be back later."

  Megan's head popped out from under her green fuzzy blanket. She swiped the tangled mess of brown curls out of her eyes. "Don't laugh at my pain. What friend?"

  Abby walked to the kitchen and filled a glass of water. "Just a friend. I'll fill you in later when your head feels better." She handed Megan the glass.

  "Okay, fine, don't tell me." Megan gulped down half the glass. "I'm going out with Isaac tonight, so if you're gone too long I might not be here."

  "Okay. Have fun with Isaac. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone."

  "If you get back in time you can come with us. We're going to a party one of his friends is having. It should be fun."

  Abby shook her head. "Another party? No thanks, Megan. Even if I get home in time I don't think I'll go with you." Abby quirked an eyebrow at her roommate. "And if you party like you did last night you better hydrate now." Megan obediently drank more water.

  "Okay, fine. Stay home and be boring. I'll catch you later."

  Abby laughed. "I will and I'll love it. Boring is my middle name. Bye."