Summer Fling (Players of Marycliff University Book 1)

by MacMillan, Jerica

  Megan finished her water and slumped back down, waving as Abby closed the door. On the surface, their friendship seemed so unlikely. Megan was outgoing and always had to be doing something, while Abby was content to stay home by herself and read a book or watch a movie. But they'd been friends since high school. Megan had been there for Abby when her brother took off and left Abby responsible for their mom.

  Abby sat on the steps leading to the apartment above hers to wait for Lance. Since Megan was in the living room, she definitely didn't want him to knock on the door. She'd tell Megan about Lance later. First she needed to figure out what he wanted and what he thought was going on between them.

  Lance's car rumbled into the parking lot, pulling Abby's attention from the game she played on her phone while she waited. She stood, brushing dust off the seat of her shorts as he parked in front of her building.

  Lance got out of his car and started toward her. "Why are you out here?"

  Abby walked toward the passenger door. "My roommate has a hangover and I didn't want to hear her whine about you knocking on the door."

  Lance nodded and blocked her access to the door's handle so he could open it for her. So weird. He looked her up and down as she started getting into the car. His lips quirked up in a smile. "Nice shirt."

  She looked down at the shirt she'd grabbed. It was gray and had a picture of a planet. Around the planet it said, "Pluto. Never forget."

  "Thanks." Abby waited for Lance to get settled into the driver's seat. "So, what's the bad news?"

  Lance took his hand off the gear shift and looked at her, guilt all over his face. "Um, well…I found your shirt in my bathroom where you left it last night." Pause.

  "Okay. And?"

  "So, I saw that it was stained, you know, from the drink that spilled on both of us." He was turned toward her, but was looking out the window over her shoulder, refusing to make eye contact.

  Abby waited.

  He blew out a breath and then turned and reached into the back seat. He dropped a plastic grocery sack in her lap. It was tied closed by the handles. Abby kept looking at him, waiting for him to finish. He just stared at the grocery sack.

  "Well, I needed to do some laundry and I decided to wash your shirt for you."

  "You didn't have to do that, but thanks. That was nice of you."

  Lance grimaced and gestured toward the sack in her lap. "You might not thank me once you look in there." He turned back toward the steering wheel and put the car in reverse. While he backed out of the parking spot and started toward the street, Abby untied the handles, not quite sure what she'd find in the bag. There was some sort of fabric inside. She reached in and pulled out a tank top. It was a dingy grayish purple color and there was a darker splotch on the front.

  "Why are you giving me this?"

  Lance hunched his shoulders. "It's your shirt."

  Abby turned and looked at him, the shirt crumpled in her lap. "What?"

  "I washed your shirt with my clothes, and it came out looking like…that." He flicked a hand in the direction of her lap.

  "How . . . ? Wha . . . ?" Abby stopped to collect her thoughts. "The shirt I wore last night was pink. And big enough to fit me. This is grayish purple and way too small for me. What did you do to my shirt?"

  "I just washed it. I had a new shirt in the wash, and I guess it bled or something."

  "Did you use cold water?"

  "What?"

  "Did you use the cold water setting on the washer?"

  Lance looked at her like she was crazy. "No! I always use hot water. My mom says that's the best way to get out stains. It was stained and I was trying to wash it for you."

  Abby sighed, shaking her head. "Lance, you can't wash new clothes on hot. Of course they'll bleed. Haven't you noticed that before?"

  He seemed to think over her words for a moment. There was a wry edge to his voice when he finally spoke. "I don't exactly wear a lot of pastels. No, I haven't noticed it before. The rest of my clothes looked fine."

  "And I assume you put it in the dryer on high heat, too?"

  "Of course!"

  Abby sighed again. "Well, um, thanks for trying? I don't really know what to say." She looked up and realized they were driving somewhere. "Uh, where are we going?"

  "To the mall. I'm going to buy you a new shirt."

  "What? No. You don't need to buy me a shirt." Abby wasn't comfortable with this. She barely knew this guy and didn't want him buying things for her. It was bad enough he paid for her pie last night.

  "Yes, I do. I completely destroyed your shirt. I might not know how to wash a girl's shirt, but I'm smart enough to realize that it's completely unwearable. It's the wrong color, doesn't fit, and the damn stain didn't even come out. I'm buying you a new one."

  The vehemence in his tone surprised Abby. Maybe she should let Lance buy her a new shirt. He obviously felt bad for destroying her shirt. She'd just gotten it a couple weeks ago, and it was one of the only dressy summer tops she owned. Correction—it used to be one of the only dressy summer tops she owned. Not anymore.

  "Okay. You can buy me a new shirt."

  Lance nodded. "Good. I will. Which store do you want to go to?"

  Abby looked up and saw they were about to turn into the mall's parking lot. "I'm not sure. Just park at the main entrance and we can go from there."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lance quickly stepped ahead of Abby so he could grab the door to the mall. She gave him a funny look, but walked in. She'd opened the inner door before he could get there, but he put his hand above hers and held it while she went through. He kept having to work harder than normal to beat her to the door. It was like she didn't want him to open doors for her. But his mom had raised him to be a gentleman, and that meant holding doors for ladies. He even did it for the annoying chicks that flirted with him, all twirling hair and flashing cleavage. He was always polite to them, but he never went out with girls that flirted too hard. Flirting should be light, fun, not pushy.

  He liked girls that bantered. That were smart and funny as well as pretty. That didn't just try to trade on their looks. Girls like Abby.

  He was relieved that she'd agreed to let him replace her shirt. He'd felt like a complete ass when he'd taken the laundry out of the dryer and saw what had happened to it. He'd just tossed everything into the dryer without looking at it, so he hadn't realized anything bad was happening to the shirt until it was way, way too late.

  He just threw all his clothes in and washed them the same way no matter what. He'd never tried to wash anything for a girl before and didn't know there were rules about it.

  He followed Abby, lengthening his stride to catch up. "So, where to?"

  Abby headed toward the nearest department store. "I need something I can wear to work. Megan lets me borrow stuff, but I'd like to keep that to a minimum if I can."

  "Who's Megan?" He was walking close to her, almost close enough to brush his arm against hers. Her hair was down today, and landed just past her shoulders. He'd thought her hair was more dark blonde last night, but the sun coming through the mall's skylights picked up hints of red.

  Abby glanced up at him. "My roommate."

  "Is she the one that you went to the party with last night?"

  She nodded. "Yup."

  "Did she wonder where you'd gone after you left the party?"

  Abby shook her head. "No. I texted her that I caught a ride with a friend. She saw me today so she knows I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere. Parties aren't really my thing anyway, and Megan knows that. I doubt she expected me to stay the whole time."

  Lance couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "So we're friends, huh?"

  She tilted her head from side to side. "It was the simplest explanation. Besides, you have been friendly."

  He wasn't sure friendly was what he was going for, but decided to let that go for now. "So why were you there last night?"

  Abby led the way through the store to the women's department, he
ading for the section with business wear. "What do you mean?"

  "You said parties aren't really your thing. Why'd you come to the party?"

  She started pushing through the clothes on a rack. "Megan told me I had to. She thinks I need to break out of my shell more. I'm not sold on the idea, but she promised she'd do all the dishes this week if I went."

  She looked up and smiled at him, her blue eyes twinkling. Lance smiled back. "Nice. I can see how that would be convincing." She moved to another rack and Lance followed. "So, where do you work?"

  "I run the language labs for the Spanish I and Spanish II classes over the summer. I also grade their online homework. I don't actually have to dress up, but I like looking a little nicer than if I were one of the students. I have a hard enough time getting them to take me seriously as it is."

  Lance moved to a rack and glanced at the clothes hanging there. "Why don't they take you seriously?"

  "Are you kidding? Without makeup on I look like I'm twelve. Even with it I don't look much older than a high school student. Half the people in the summer sessions are my age or older trying to get their foreign language credits in so they can graduate. Plus, I'm a white girl with blonde hair teaching a Spanish lab."

  Lance noticed that Abby had picked out a couple shirts to try on. He found one he liked on the rack he was looking at. It was light blue and sleeveless, with a scooped gathered neckline. "What about this one?"

  Abby looked up at him in surprise. Then she looked at the shirt on the hanger he held up. She laughed lightly. "I like it, but that's way too small."

  He looked at the shirt and then at her. "What size do you need?"

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "I need a medium usually. That looks like an extra small. You may have noticed that I have boobs. The shirt needs to be big enough to fit over them."

  He looked at her chest, remembering the view he'd gotten when her shirt was soaking wet. The shirt she had on now didn't accentuate her figure very well, but it didn't hide it either. He realized he was staring again and snapped his eyes back to her face. Fortunately she looked amused, not angry. He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I guess I did notice."

  She rolled her eyes at him. "Uh huh. I've seen you notice more than once now." She plucked the shirt out of his hand, replaced it on the rack and grabbed one in her size. "I'm going to go try these on."

  Lance followed along in her wake. At least this was one of those places that had comfortable chairs outside the dressing room, so he sat down and pulled out his phone to wait for her to finish. Would she want to model the clothes for him? He kinda hoped so.

  * * *

  "Thanks again for replacing my shirt." Abby buckled her seatbelt and fiddled with the shopping bag in her lap.

  She'd decided to get the shirt he'd picked out, which had made him really happy. She'd tried to argue him out of buying it for her, telling him that taking her shopping was enough to make up for her other shirt. He blew off her protests and gave the cashier his credit card while she was still fishing out her wallet.

  "You're welcome." He buckled his seatbelt and then grinned at her. "Thanks for coming to the movie with me."

  Since buying her shirt hadn't taken very long, Lance had convinced her to walk over to the movie theater to see what was playing. There'd been a showing of the summer's blockbuster action flick just about to start.

  "You're welcome. I could've paid for myself, though."

  "Now, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay for a movie I invited you to? That's not the way it works, Abby."

  "My other guy friends don't pay for me when we go hang out."

  "They don't?"

  "No. The only time a guy has paid for my stuff is when we've been on a date."

  "Really? Hmm."

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "This wasn't a date, Lance."

  He just shrugged. "If you say so. What are you doing tomorrow?"

  Abby blinked at him, not sure what to make of his responses. Or what to tell him about her plans tomorrow. "Um, I think Megan and I have plans."

  Lance glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he maneuvered the car out of the mall parking lot. "You think so, huh?"

  "Uh, yeah."

  "So, you're not just trying to avoid making plans with me?"

  Abby rolled her eyes at him. "Maybe. What did you have in mind?"

  "What about your plans with Megan?"

  "Fine, Megan will probably have a hangover from another party tonight. My plans are to hang out and read, maybe do some laundry. It's pretty exciting stuff."

  Lance laughed. "You can just tell me you don't want to see me tomorrow." He stopped at a red light and faced her. "I can take no for an answer."

  "Are you sure about that? Because from what I can tell, every time I've told you no you've railroaded me and done whatever you decided."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Hmm, let's reminisce, shall we?" Abby held up a finger. "I asked you to take me home so I could change into my own shirt before going out for pie with you and you wouldn't do it." Another finger. "I told you I'd rather meet you somewhere and you said that you would pick me up." A third finger. "I told you I could pay for my shirt, and you gave the lady your card before I could get mine out." A fourth finger. "I told you I'd pay for my movie ticket and snacks and you paid for them without even acknowledging that I'd said anything. You insist on your way no matter what I say."

  Lance grabbed the fingers she was wiggling near his face, holding her hand while he spoke. "You only actually said the word no one of those times. That's not enough evidence that I can't take no for an answer." Abby glared at him, trying to wriggle her fingers out of his grip. "Besides," he continued, "I'm a businessman. It's a positive trait that I can't take no for an answer."

  Abby managed to get her hand free and pointed at him. "Ha! So you admit it."

  "I admit nothing."

  Abby sat back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. "You sure you're not planning on becoming a lawyer?"

  Lance just laughed and shook his head. "If I railroad you regardless, why even bother to make up fake plans? According to you I'd just change them for you anyway."

  "Hope springs eternal."

  Lance pulled into the parking lot for her apartment complex. "So you need to do laundry tomorrow. How long does that take?"

  Abby shrugged. "A few hours. We have our own machines, so I don't have to use a laundry room or anything."

  "Do you want some company?"

  "Uh, no. I told you Megan's going to have a hangover. You don't want to be at our apartment when she's like that."

  He nodded. "Okay. I'll take your word for it. So, you'll probably do it in the evening I'm guessing?"

  "Maybe." Abby stretched the word out. "Why?"

  "So you're free for lunch?"

  "I guess so."

  "Okay, I'll pick you up at noon."

  Abby shook her head. "That's not the way this works. If you want me to go out with you then you need to ask me, not tell me."

  Lance unbuckled his seatbelt and turned his body to face Abby. He leaned toward her, nearly invading her personal space. Abby could see the amusement in his eyes. "Abby, would you please have lunch with me tomorrow?"