And now Charlie suspected she had a boyfriend. She didn't even know what to do with that, because she wasn't sure where her relationship with Chris stood. That was why it was easier to just dodge Charlie's questions and get off the phone as quickly as possible. More things to think about and figure out. She wouldn't figure it out standing in the entryway of the tutoring center hoping it would stop pouring, though. Like everything else, she'd just have to suck it up, put her head down, and get through it.
Zipping her jacket all the way up, she pushed the door open and made her way to her car as fast as she could with her head down and arms crossed, trying to protect herself as much as possible from the rain and the cold raging outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Brows pulled together in curiosity, Chris got off the couch to investigate why Matt was cracking up in the kitchen.
Nearly doubled over, Matt clutched the counter and pointed at Megan. “You look like a drowned rat!”
Megan stepped closer to Matt and punched him in the arm before she calmly took off her shoes. Matt was right, though. Her hair was plastered to her face, and he could see where it had dripped all down her neck, making the collar of her T-shirt wet. Her jacket, which was now draped over the back of a kitchen chair to dry, had protected her torso from the worst of the downpour, but couldn't stop the water that drained directly down her neck. Her jeans were soaked through.
Chris crossed his arms and propped his shoulder against the doorway, not saying anything. Matt continued to laugh and Megan glared at him, flipping him off before she turned to see Chris blocking her exit.
“Hey.” Her voice didn't give anything away. Chris had expected her to sound more pissed off, at least from the way she'd punched Matt and flipped him off. Not that he could blame her. Matt was still chuckling and shaking his head as he went back to making dinner. Instead, she sounded calm, controlled. It was odd. Megan was many things, but controlled was rarely one of them, at least in his experience. She felt things strongly and had no qualms about sharing her opinions and feelings with others, especially with him and Matt.
“Hey.” Chris straightened up and held out a hand to her. “Let's get you warm and dry.”
She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, then her eyes flicked to his face, searching. Finally, she cracked a little smile and took his hand. “Sounds good. Thanks.”
He led her to their bedroom, leaving her for a moment while he turned on the shower for her. When he went back out to the bedroom, she still stood in the middle of the room where he'd left her, looking almost lost. Her head was down and the part of her hair not plastered to her face had swung forward, hiding her expression.
He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Hey. I got the shower started for you. Want help undressing?” He gave her a suggestive wink. She laughed, which made him let out his breath in relief. He'd never seen Megan act like this before, and her laughter made him think she was alright after all.
“Help undressing? The shower's too small. You know you can't fit in there with me.” Her eyes twinkled back at him, and he gathered her in his arms, uncaring if she got him damp. She rested her head against his chest for a moment before she pulled back, her brows drawn together in consternation. “I left a wet spot.”
He shrugged. “It's okay.”
With a smile that reassured him even more, she took a step back and pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it toward the hamper. Her bra followed behind it. Her jeans provided a bigger challenge, the wet denim sticking to her legs as she struggled to get them off. “God, I'm soaked to the skin.” With the wet fabric wadded at her feet, she finally pulled off her panties, tossed them behind her, and headed into the bathroom.
Chris followed her in. Casting a glance over her shoulder just before she stepped into the shower stall, she arched an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing over her lips. He grinned back and enjoyed imagining what might be going through her head.
It would be fun to join her in there, but she was right, they wouldn't both fit comfortably. And if he got in, he'd block the water from reaching her, making her cold, and the point of this shower was for her to warm up. Him getting in the way was the last thing she needed. He wouldn't object to helping her finish warming up afterward, though.
The wet spot in the middle of his chest from where she'd rested her wet hair was kind of annoying, so he stripped off the T-shirt and claimed a spot on the lid of the toilet while Megan showered. It made it more comfortable to stay in the humid bathroom while the shower filled the tiny room with steam.
He waited a few minutes until he figured the worst of the cold was burned out of her by the hot water. “So what's wrong?”
He'd spoken quietly, but the way she stilled made it clear she'd heard him. She stayed frozen for a moment before she resumed running her hands through her hair under the water. “Nothing. What do you mean?”
He quirked an eyebrow, even though she wouldn't be able to see it through the foggy plastic of the shower stall. “You acted like you were pissed at Matt for laughing at you, but then you didn't seem pissed when you saw me. You seemed … wary, like you were hiding something. So, what is it? What's wrong?”
She didn't freeze this time, but she still took her time answering. “Nothing. I'm just tired. It was a long day and then it was pouring when I left the tutoring center. I had to walk all the way across campus, and I got really wet. It was just a sucky end to a sucky day.”
He nodded. “That makes sense.” She didn't respond. “Why was today so sucky?”
She stilled again. Not as long as before, but he still caught it. “No particular reason. Just one of those days, y'know?”
Her voice was falsely bright. He didn't buy that for a second. “Did that Isaac asshole get in your face again?”
“What? No.” She laughed a little. “Nothing like that.” Her answer sounded genuine. She was surprised that he'd asked. And she hadn't frozen like he'd touched a nerve. That seemed like the truth at least.
“Good. You know you can tell me if he bothers you again, right?”
She laughed again, warmer this time. “I know. You and Matt will beat the shit out of him for me.” He could see her head shaking, her features indistinct, her dark hair and peach skin a blur through the plastic.
“That's right we will.” He smiled, forcing himself to relax when he realized he was involuntarily flexing his arms where they were crossed over his chest. It wasn't a bluff. He'd beat the shit out of anyone for Megan if they were bothering her. “So what happened?”
She shook her head again as she turned off the shower and opened the door. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around herself over her breasts. Chris couldn't help being a little disappointed that she'd covered herself up already. “It's really nothing, Chris. I'm fine. It was just a crap day. I'm glad it's over.”
Dragging his eyes from where her arms still covered her breasts, he focused on her face. A soft smile played over her lips, and she looked sincere. “Okay.” He stood, reaching for her again, bringing her in against his chest and rubbing his hands over her back. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?” She nodded against his chest. “Good. Now, let's finish getting you dry and warm.”
Chris tilted her face up and took her lips in a kiss. She responded right away, trying to control the kiss, but he wouldn't let her. He tugged at the towel, pulling it from around her, wrapping it over her shoulders and running his hands on her arms while he continued to kiss her. When he decided her arms were dry, he ended the kiss and pulled the towel up to her hair. She giggled when he covered her head with the towel and rubbed her scalp. His hands looked huge compared to the size of her skull. He squished her hair through the towel, trying to blot out as much water as possible, then pulled the towel back far enough so that her face peeked out. She tried to glare at him, but kept ruining it with laughter.
Smiling down at her, he pulled her against him, wanting to erase whatever was troubling her. If she didn’t want to talk ab
out it, fine, he understood that. He didn’t much like talking either. He preferred more physical forms of communication. If that’s what she needed to get over her shitty day, he was more than happy to oblige.
With her breasts squished against his bare torso, nipples tightening, he kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he ran the towel in his hands down to her ass. Gripping her through the fabric, he lifted her up, loving the way she immediately wrapped her legs around him, clinging to his shoulders and hips. He carried her into the bedroom where they fell onto the bed together.
Sliding down her body, he found her pussy, first with his fingers, then with his mouth. He quickly brought her to orgasm before he shoved his jeans and boxers down and rolled on a condom. He'd been hard since she'd stripped before her shower and knew he wouldn't last long. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she brought his face close to hers and kissed him again.
After reaching a shuddering climax, he collapsed on top of her, his jeans still around his thighs and his legs dangling off the bed. She cradled his head next to hers, stroking her hands through his hair, and he turned to kiss her shoulder and neck. Giggling and squirming under him, she pushed at his shoulders. “That tickles, and you need to deal with the condom.”
He grinned down at her, tickling her sides and kissing her once more before he got up to toss the condom in the bathroom trash can. When he came back out, Megan was pulling a long sleeved thermal T-shirt and a pair of lounge pants out of the dresser. He zipped and buttoned his pants while he watched her get dressed. “Warmer now?”
When her head full of damp curls popped out of the shirt, she smiled at him. “Much. Thank you.”
He grinned back. “My pleasure. Anytime.”
She laughed, and the sound made him feel like everything was getting back to normal finally. Maybe he hadn’t figured out what was bothering her this week, but she was already acting more like herself. If she was okay, that was all that mattered.
* * *
“When are you leaving for Thanksgiving break?” Matt's voice drifted from the living room into the kitchen where Megan was doing dishes since Matt had made them all dinner. Chris would normally have helped, but he'd said he needed to do some research, so Megan shooed him away to do them herself.
Megan turned off the water in the sink and set the plate in her hand in the dishwasher, careful not to clink it against the other dishes so she could hear Chris's answer. Her recent conversation with Charlie burned in her mind. In moments she would know the answer to her question about whether Chris intended to ask her to go with him. This was the perfect opportunity to ask. She held her breath and waited for him to speak.
“Probably early Wednesday afternoon. You wanna ride together again?”
Megan crinkled her eyebrows together. She knew they were both from western Washington, but she didn't think their parents lived close enough together for them to carpool. Had they known each other before coming to school here? She didn't think so, but hearing them talk made her realize that she didn't know all that much about either of them.
She heard the sound of fabric rustling, one of them shifting in his seat, before Matt answered. “Yeah, sure. My sister's going to be home, and I doubt my mom will want either of us going anywhere for the few days we'll all be there. Drop me off. If I get desperate, I'll text you to come get me on Friday. When are you planning on heading home?”
“Saturday, probably. Abby and I were talking about us all getting together that weekend. She thinks she misses us after spending all that time here over the summer.”
The smile in Chris's voice was unmistakable, his affection for Abby clear. Megan felt it like a punch to the gut. When had Abby made plans with Chris? Why didn't Megan know? Was she not invited?
That … hurt.
It felt like betrayal, both from her best friend and her … whatever Chris was to her. The word boyfriend rattled around in her head, but she couldn't bring herself to label him as that, not even to herself. Not after that sucker punch. He had to know that she'd be able to hear them. The walls were thin, and there wasn't even a door between the kitchen and the living room. So, no invite home with him. Not much of a boyfriend.
She sucked in a breath, blinking hard a few times, and turned the water back on to finish with the dishes. Apparently she'd be on her own for Thanksgiving break. On her own to defend herself against her parents and on her own while the people she was closest to hung out without her.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A smile stretching across his face, Chris patted the seat next to him and moved his arm to the back of the couch so Megan could join him. He sat with his bare feet up on the coffee table crossed at the ankle, his laptop balanced on his thighs. Megan settled in next to him where he'd indicated, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close, more than ready for the comforting press of her body against his. But she resisted. When he gave her a quizzical look, she didn't respond, but shifted into their favorite position—her back against his side and her feet up on the couch with his arm across her chest. They sat like this often while doing homework or watching TV.
Megan glanced over at his computer screen. “I thought you said you were doing research.”
“I am.”
She turned her head to look at his face and arched an eyebrow. “And what class is that for?”
He grinned down at her, a mix of amusement and sheepishness. “I just said research. I never said it was for a class.”
She grunted in response, clearly unimpressed, and turned back to look at the screen again. “Fine. What are you researching?”
Opening his mouth, he hesitated for a beat. What would she think of this? He hoped she’d be supportive. Her opinion had come to matter to him a lot. More than almost anyone’s. Coach Hanson’s weighed just a little bit more, since he’d actually kick Chris’s ass if he backed out of this. “Regional Combines.” He couldn’t help tensing as he braced for her reaction like it might be a physical blow. Actually, with Megan, that wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
But instead he got confusion. “Regional what now?”
“Combines.” He couldn't help laughing a little at her reaction. It wasn't very often that he knew more about something than she did. He was going to enjoy this moment for as long as he could.
“Combines,” she repeated slowly. “Like one of those big tractor things?”
This time he didn’t try to restrain his laughter. Her lips pursed in frustration, and he couldn't help kissing her to try to smooth the irritation off of her face. She remained stiff, not kissing him back, and looked just as cranky with him when he drew back. She obviously didn’t enjoy not knowing something. And he should be nice. Whenever he was clueless about something, she patiently helped him learn the material and never made him feel dumb.
Still chuckling—he couldn’t help it, she was too cute all irritated like this—he shook his head. “No, not farm equipment. Regional Combines are basically tryouts for the NFL.”
“Oh.” Her face cleared for a moment before a mixture of curiosity and confusion took over. “When are they?”
“Most of them are in February. There's one in Arizona that's still open for registration. I'll probably go there.”
He took a deep breath and clicked on the button to register. He could feel Megan's eyes on him, but he refused look at her, afraid that her expression might hold some emotion he didn’t want to see—resentment, condemnation—or worse—pity.
Ever since he was a kid, he’d dreamed of playing in the NFL, but had never really considered it possible. He was a good player in high school, but came from a small program. He chose to go to a small college because he didn’t think he could compete at one of the bigger schools. Was too chicken to try. Plus, he got a sweet athletic scholarship from Marycliff. It would be hard to turn that down and have to take out a bunch of loans to pay for out of state tuition at a bigger school with a program that caught the eye of scouts
.
And now he had one last desperate shot to make his dream a reality. But would Megan consider him a hopeless fool for thinking he could even try?
“How does it work?” she asked.
He spared her a quick glance, noting the corners of her mouth pulled down in a frown and the crinkle between her brows. Recognizing the expression as the one she wore when she was trying to figure something out, he let out a relieved breath. No pity. Not yet, at least. “Well, I go and participate in the Regional Combine. If they like me enough, I get invited to the Super Regional in March, and from there I could get picked up in the draft.” He drew in a deep breath and blew it out, clicking through and filling out the registration form, leaning over to pull his wallet out of his back pocket so he could pay the fee. Megan watched him the whole time, and when he looked up, Matt had paused his video game and also watched him from where he sat in the recliner. He lifted his chin at Matt. “Wanna go with me?”
Matt studied him for a minute before shaking his head. “Nah, man. I'm good. College ball's been fun, but I don't really want to go pro.”
With a shrug, Chris turned back to the computer. He’d finished registering, so he really didn't need to do anything, but he clicked around on the website anyway, still not sure what Megan's reaction would be and too much of a wuss to face her and find out. Shifting next to him, she sat up. He let his arm fall away from her, and she situated herself so she sat cross-legged on the middle couch cushion looking at him, and he finally shut the laptop and gave her his attention.
“What are your chances?” she asked in a no-nonsense voice.
Chris flinched, surprised. That wasn't what he'd expected. He shrugged. “I don't know. Probably not great. But it's my only shot.” He looked away from her, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve wanted to go pro since I was a little kid. I'm eligible for the combines this year. If I don't try, I think I'll always regret it.” He lifted his eyes to hers again, a crooked smile on his face. He wanted to plead with her for her support, or at least her understanding, but he couldn't bring himself do that. So he pasted on a smile in anticipation of her criticism.
Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3 Page 39