“Me?” I ask, one octave too high. Maybe because you drive me crazy and send my pulse soaring then reject me? “No, I think that’s great, Oli. I’m just about to head in to America’s Mental Health Awareness. Do you want me to send you the address?” I offer because, hell, I feel like I have my back to a corner. I help out with a phone service they offer for kids who are in trouble or who are dealing with mental health issues. The kids can call and speak to an anonymous councilor and get sound advice. Since I minored in social work this place was a good fit, and they trained me to be a phone therapist. I sometimes help kids who are going through depression, anxiety, and, in some serious cases, ones who want to run away from home or want to commit suicide. When there’s a life-threatening phone call, the AMHA can track the phone number and alert authorities. They’ve saved many lives.
“No, I’ll look it up. See you soon,” he replies, and the phone clicks.
I look at my phone as if it’s a UFO and repeat his words, “I’ll see you soon,” only when I say it, there’s a huge question mark at the end, and a “what the fuck was that?”
Within a few minutes, I’m entering through the doors of the AMHA. I noticed the dark Rover with no one inside already parked out front by a meter. How did he make it here so fast? Just as I think that, I spot him standing in the lobby. His hands are tucked into his front pockets. He’s wearing a sky-blue V-neck sweater and a pair of worn-in blue jeans. I have to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. His eyes drop to my hands. I’m holding two coffees.
“Expecting someone?” he asks, cocking a brow.
From behind, I hear Sierra say, “That would be me.” She comes around and gives me a light hug. “Is that for me? Because if it is, you’re a saint.” She grins.
“All yours. A girl after my own heart’s desire,” I quip.
Oli says, “Why didn’t you say coffee did it for you?”
I roll my eyes, trying to breathe slowly so my cheeks don’t turn crimson. It’s a lost cause. I smile. I don’t want to smile at him after how we left things, but I can’t help myself. That deviously sexy smile of his does me in.
From the corner of my eye, I watch how Sierra turns her focus to Oli. She’s a pretty girl with dark hair and dark eyes, and she wears thick-framed red glasses. She kinda has the sexy librarian thing going on. Her mouth falls agape.
“Holy shit!” She smacks a hand over her mouth.
Oli cocks a brow.
“You’re Oliver Russell. I may be from Minnesota, but I’m a huge fan. I follow you on Twitter. Russellites, go!” she cheers. I can’t believe Sierra is a part of the harem of women called Russellites who follow him religiously on social media. Russellites are women who follow him not because of team allegiance but because of his male hotness. She turns her attention back to me. “How did you forget to mention you two are friends?” she asks, and I shrug.
“I didn’t know we were friends.” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that, Shorty?” Oli asks, draping an arm over my shoulder. Insufferable.
“Huh? What? I didn’t say anything.” My voice sounds too squeaky.
He gives me a knowing look, telling me he heard me loud and clear, and he isn’t fazed in the least.
The three of us enter the elevator, and the quiet tension crackles until Sierra begins to mention his plays in the last game with an, “OMG! You were so good.”
I have no reason to be jealous, yet I don’t like her attention on him. I try to redirect my thoughts to Austin and our upcoming date. I am pleased with the outfit I chose.
We get out at the third floor. “Sierra, they’re expecting you through those doors on the right there. There are five training sessions before you can start taking calls,” I explain.
She smiles. “Cool.” She leans in close to my ear and whispers, “You know how you sounded a little scared earlier? Well, I was thinking of joining some Krav Maga classes. It’s an Israeli form of self-defense. Maybe you should consider joining with me?”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it,” I whisper back, then look sideways to see if Oli heard. I don’t need him to worry about me. I don’t need his sympathy. I sure as hell don’t need him to take care of me. I wonder if that’s why he showed up today—to check on me because he’s that kind of guy.
“I’ll catch up with you a little later,” Sierra says, her tone returning to normal. She gives Oli an adoring smile. “Nice to meet you, Oliver.” She smirks and bats her long, dark lashes at him. I want to hate her right now but she’s too sweet.
“You too, Sierra. Enjoy your training.” He flashes her a million-dollar smile.
He rubs his hands together and focuses his attention on me.
“What can I do?” he asks, positive energy seeping from his pours like he really is happy to be helping out here. I hate that he’s such a nice guy right now, because it makes it harder to not like him.
I bite my lip. I’m not sure. “Let me tell Zelda you’re here. She’s in charge of the volunteers. She’ll know what to do with you.”
From the moment I tell Zelda who my friend is, all hell breaks loose. Apparently, the AMHA has begun to bring high school students in on class trips to discuss mental health issues. It’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea. I wish that had existed when I was a teenager; my life may have been set on a different track if it had. Zelda brings Oli in to speak with the students, giving him a script used by AMHA to teach students about mental health. I only hang out with the group for a few minutes, but it doesn’t take long to see how the teenagers are mesmerized by him. Each and every one of them stares at him like he fell from the stars. He explains everything with such conviction, he has me mesmerized too.
For the next two hours, I head to my station where I take phone calls from random callers. As I’m speaking to a kid about his anxiety and panic attacks, I sense a presence looming over me by the way my skin prickles and comes to life. I don’t need to turn around to see who it is. I do though, because the calls are confidential.
I ask Oli to give me a few minutes. He walks to the other side of the room where there’s a coffee station set up. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice it only takes a few moments for a congregation to form around him.
I finish my call and head over to Zelda to clock out. I bump into Sierra just as I’m headed back to Oli.
“So how did you find the training?” I ask her.
“It was great. I met a lot of cool people and this place does good deeds. Thanks for suggesting this.” She grins.
“Cool. I’m glad it worked out. What are you up to now?” I ask, figuring it will be good to have a buffer around when I’m with Oli, since our little adventure to Canada and our sleepover the night before last proved we can’t keep our hands to ourselves.
Her lips twist and she looks apologetic. “Actually, I made plans. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you would want to go out after. Gavin asked me to hang out. I thought I would see how things go,” she says, and I turn a little wide-eyed.
“Um Gavin Stewart?” I ask, a little flabbergasted because Gavin gives off this wannabe, womanizing vibe. He’s slimy, and gross . . . Sierra is pretty, and ew! I cringe. I can’t picture her with him.
“Yes, why?” She looks from side to side and bites her lip. “Is there something wrong with him? He offered to take me to the Navy Pier. I’m new to town. I haven’t seen the sights.” She shrugs and tilts her head to the side.
“I uh . . . didn’t mean anything by it. I just . . . well . . . I think you should be cautious where Gavin is concerned. I’ve heard he’s kind of a douche, and you seem like a nice, wholesome small-town girl,” I explain, so she knows I’m just trying to look out for her.
She smiles and looks to me warmly. “Thanks. I appreciate the warning. I am a small-town girl in the big, bad, ugly city. I just figured we work together. I didn’t see him as more than a friend. “Sheesh!” She blows out some air. “My daddy always did say that I was book-smart, not street-smart. I guess I do need to watch myself.”
>
“Yeah, just keep your eyes open,” I confirm now that my own guard is way up.
She leans in and whispers softly, “You should watch your back too.” She tilts her chin to Oli. “From what I’ve read, he’s one’s one of the biggest players in town. I follow his Twitter page. The guy gets around.” She pauses. “A lot.”
I exhale. “Don’t I know it. He’s just a friend,” I say, which truly isn’t a lie now that I’ve been friend-zoned.
Sierra bites her lip. “I may be from a small town, but there’s one thing that’s universal. Sloane, the way that guy looks at you like he wants to rip your clothes off . . . well, that’s a telltale sign that you are more than friends in any state.”
I swallow hard as my gaze drifts to Oli and his wide-set shoulders, his fine ass sculpted to perfection. I’m surprised when he turns his head, and our eyes suddenly meet as he continues chatting it up with the other volunteers and workers. I was sure he was deep in conversation. I’m amazed his stare lingers on me.
“Yup.” Sierra nods. “You got it bad, and so does he.” She tilts her chin to Oli.
I want to ask how she can tell, but I don’t want to admit my feelings either. I wave her off. “Nah, nothing there. I’ve got a date in an hour.”
“Right.” She nods and gives me a light hug. “Let me know about the classes. It would be fun.” She winks. “See you at work later, and if you need someone to talk to . . . I mean about the attack . . . just know I’m here.”
I give her a quick hug. “Thanks. See you later,” I respond, and she turns to leave. “Watch out for Gavin,” I call out. She lifts a hand to wave.
I tell myself to watch out for the big, bad giant waiting over by the coffee station.
A few minutes later, and I’m leaving through the doors of the AMHA with Oli.
“It’s nice that you’re a regular here.” He smiles to me.
“I enjoy the work,” I admit.
He walks away to his car and clicks the unlock button without saying goodbye. I stay rooted to my place on the sidewalk.
He looks up to me expectantly. “Well, get in,” he orders, albeit with a friendly tone.
My brows furrow together. “Why?” I ask, perplexed.
“Because I’m hungry. We’re going for lunch,” he says.
“I never said I was going anywhere with you. Geez! Are you used to getting everything you want?” I ask, my tone a little too condescending but playful and flirty at the same time. I don’t like being ordered around; he needs to learn this. My hands come up and cross in front of my chest.
He chuckles. “Pretty much. And why don’t you want to come out with me?” His lips turn down and my heart stammers, because he’s not only gorgeous but adorable too. “Is it because of yesterday morning? Because I was thinking . . .”
“Oh yeah? You mean hockey players think?” I ask sarcastically, just playing with him a little. He nods back and forth, and walks back over to the sidewalk so we are face-to-face.
“Ha ha! Can you be serious a minute?” His features straighten.
Something about his tone wipes the smile off my face. “Yeah.” I nod.
“I was thinking about yesterday morning,” he repeats, then falls silent and gazes at me. “I like spending time with you . . . We should hang out sometimes,” he mumbles, seeming uneasy, which I’m thinking is a rarity for him.
“Next you’ll be asking me to play on the play gym.” I bat my eyelashes for extra effect. I mock him, because who actually asks someone to just hangout? It’s so kindergarten. As my sarcasm bleeds through the conversation, I know what he’s really saying. I like you, Sloane just not in that way. It hurts.
He rolls his eyes at me.
I exhale harshly which sounds a little like a grunt. “Of course we can hang out,” I confirm, trying to hide the hurt from my tone. I think I do a spanking good job.
“Good.” He nods. “Now let’s go to lunch,” he says, and his eyes roam over my bare legs briefly before he waves me over to his car. I pause, not moving, and he jolts to a stop. He truly is used to having women do as he asks.
“Sloane, can you get in the darn car, and we can discuss anything you want over lunch? I’m starved,” he whines.
Why does he have to be so adorable?
I groan. “Oli, I have a date. I can’t go for lunch. I didn’t realize you’d be coming today, and I made plans.”
He gives me a wry smile. “You’re shitting me.”
“Excuse me?” I scoff. “Friends should be supportive, not assume that their friend can’t get a date.” My arms return to their protective stance across my chest. My chin tilts up and to the side, so I don’t have to look him in the eyes.
He smirks, his eyes running over the length of me. His nostrils flare. “It’s not that I don’t think you can get a date. I just assumed you weren’t seeing anyone, so I’m wondering how that happened so quickly. You’re hot as fuck. Trust me, I know you can get a date.” He opens and closes his eyes.
His words boost my ego but only to a certain extent, because the man I want doesn’t want me back. So clearly, I’m hot as fuck, but untouchable.
“Okay,” I explain, without giving it a second thought. “I found a really nice guy online last night. We’re meeting for lunch.” The minute the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Do I sound desperate? What will he think of me now?
“How do you know he’s a nice guy?” Oli retorts. He crosses his thick masculine arms across his chest. In that position, he looks all-male alpha, dominating. It’s freaking sexy. I need to control myself from turning into a hot mess.
“He is. I just know. Okay?” I look at the time on my phone. “I have to meet him soon. I’ll just order an Uber.”
Oli’s hazel eyes narrow to slits. “No need for Uber. I’ll drive you. I’m free right now, and I’m hungry.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” My brows furrow together because there’s no way this giant is coming on a date with me.
“I’ll just hang out and eat in the restaurant. Make sure you’re okay,” he says.
My eyes widen. Hell to the no. “Oli, that’s sweet of you to offer,” I say, my voice saccharine, “but you aren’t tagging along on a date with me.”
He frowns. “Let me at least drive you,” he offers, and the way his jaw is ticking tells me something more is up with him, so I agree.
“Sure, thanks. It isn’t too far.” I smile, and we both enter the SUV. Only the tension that’s radiating off him palpitates throughout the car. I wonder if he’s treating me like a sister now that Flynn isn’t around much.
As he drives, his thumb taps the steering wheel, which seems like a nervous gesture. I want to call him on it. My hesitation melts like ice on a warm day. “Oli, what the hell is going on with you?”
He gives me a sidelong glance and just scowls, not saying a word.
Twenty-One
Oli
As I drive down the street, unease makes my chest tight. I’ve never had this feeling before. It’s seriously messed up, but the thought of another guy touching Sloane has me in a bundle of knots.
I don’t know what’s happening because I have no problem sharing chicks. It’s a well-known fact most of my team has banged a good handful of the bunnies that show up to our parties and hotel rooms. Maybe I’m losing it, because this protective feeling I have over Sloane right now isn’t a brotherly thing, which I’m all too familiar with. It’s a straight-out I-don’t-want-anyone-touching-my-fucking-girl thing. Only, she isn’t my girl.
“Make a right here.” Her voice cuts into the battle in my head. I don’t want to be feeling this way, that’s for fucking sure. No matter what I always told myself, I won’t settle down.
I turn.
“Stop right along there.” She points to a restaurant with canopies overhead. I pull up to the curb and stop the car. “Thanks for the ride.” She leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek.
“Friend,” she accentuates the word as if she’s pissed off. She has ev
ery right to be. I’m clearly sending her mixed signals.
I practically mauled her at the inn at Ann Arbor, and at my place yesterday morning. Then I flipped out and pushed her into the friend zone. I know my behavior is all over the fucking map, but I never did claim to have my shit together.
The place is nice with a valet out front. Perfect. I cut the engine.
Her brows furrow together. “What are you doing?” she asks. I hear fear in her tone, because I think she knows exactly what I’m doing, which is good, because I have no fucking clue. I’m acting on instinct, which tells me to beat on my chest and roar she’s mine.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I grin mischievously. “I’m fucking starved. I told you this.” Everyone who knows me well knows I need to eat when I’m hungry, or else I become a real grouch.
Her green eyes widen. “Can’t you get a bite across the street or something?”
“Heck no. This place looks good, and do you smell that? Fresh bread.” My eyes glimmer with mischief.
She mumbles, and I think she’s cursing under her breath. “Fine,” she scoffs. “Wait out here for two minutes, then come in. I’m not walking in with you.”
I shrug. “Fine by me.” I extend a hand for her to leave my car first.
“Bye, Oli,” she says, leaving the car. She’s irritated; I can tell.
“Bye, Shorty,” I call out, but she’s already closing the car door in my face. My eyes remain locked on her fine ass as she saunters into the restaurant.
Twenty-Two
Sloane
What the hell did I get myself into? I won’t be able to relax knowing he’ll be here looking over my shoulder. As it is, I was nervous going on this date because I was hoping this guy would be Mr. Right. How am I supposed to relax and get to know him now knowing that Oli, the only guy so far to get my panties in a twist, is sitting a few tables away? Fuck me. The irony of the words cause me to stifle a giggle.
Butt Ending: A Big Stick Novel 2 (Standalone) Page 15