by Natalie Rios
“We’re not turning around,” I laugh.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me.”
I bite down a grin, but her freak-out is hilarious. This is the most unruffled I’ve ever seen Allie. “My parents aren’t home. Even I know you don’t meet the parents on date number two. And Massachusetts doesn’t have a Governor’s Mansion.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No…Massachusetts is one of five states without an official residence for the governor. Holy shit. Do I know something Super Nerd Allie Perez doesn’t?”
She playfully shoves my shoulder. “Stop. You know a lot of things I don’t.”
It kind of sounds like she’s paying me a compliment. But just to be sure… “Really? Like what?”
“Football, for one. You’re a better writer, too. I make fewer edits to your part of our sociology essays than I do mine.”
I bite my lip, grinning as I keep my eyes on the road. “Maybe I should edit the next one.”
“You can if want. Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“What’s it like being the governor’s son?”
“Not that big of a deal, to be honest. Ever since I started showing potential to go pro, people seem more interested in me for football than politics. And being the Governor’s son is less exciting when the Vice President’s daughter attends the same university.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot Shelby Wallace goes to Carlton. I heard she’s a real piece of work.”
“That’s the rumor, but she’s got it rough. I mean, my father’s just a governor and I barely see him during election season. I can’t imagine what a presidential campaign must be like.”
“Were you alone a lot as a kid?”
I shrug. “Not a whole lot, mostly when they were campaigning. But I had a nanny and Waffles. Then I got into football and I was too busy to notice when my parents were gone.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say waffles kept you company? Note to self: if Theo is ever feeling sad, take him to IHOP for some comfort food.”
I smile, not bothering to correct the misunderstanding. “How should I comfort you? If you ever get sad?”
“Cuddling on the couch with a bowl of coconut milk ice cream while we talk over a movie.”
“Specific, but noted.”
An hour later, we’re standing at the park and Allie still looks confused.
“So Waffles is a dog,” she asks for the third time. “A fluffy purse dog.”
“I don’t own a purse, but I’m sure she’d fit into yours. Especially since it’s the size of a truck.”
She pokes my shoulder. “You didn’t tell me where we were going and I like to be prepared. How old is she?”
“Twelve.” I scoop Waffles into my arms and cradle her against my chest. Bending my head, I affectionately kiss the tip of her nose. “I’ve had her since I was ten.”
“And you named her Waffles?”
“I was obsessed with Eggo’s at the time. And she kind of looks like a waffle, right? Cream color, waves that look like waffle iron lines...”
Allie extends a hand and cautiously scratches behind Waffles’ ears. “What kind of a dog is she?”
“Mini goldendoodle. She likes you,” I note when Waffles begins to lick Allie’s hand.
“So we’re going to a baseball game with your dog?”
“You love baseball, but the season is over and this was the only game I could find. Tonight’s theme is Bark at the Park. I think one of their sponsors is a local dog food company. There’s a dog parade at the end. Waffles is going to love it. Aren’t you, sweetie?” I coo at Waffles who promptly ignores Allie in favor of showering my face with kisses. “The one thing I hate about my apartment is that I can’t have a dog. Waffles used to sleep with me every night when I was kid, especially when my parents were out of town. She made the house feel less empty.”
“You two are cute together. What I don’t get,” she continues as we take our seats, “is why such a caring and generous guy, who is super worried about his father’s political career, would steal our rival school’s mascot?”
“Ah, so we’re finally going to talk about it,” I nod, settling Waffles on my lap. She gives a happy yip when I start stroking up her spine. “Why did you try to get me banned from graduation?”
Allie folds her arms against her chest and glares at me. “Because they weren’t even going to punish you and that’s not fair. The school’s star athlete, the governor’s son, commits a crime and the headmaster’s reaction is meh, whatever. Had that been me, a scholarship kid, I would have gotten kicked out. No questions asked.”
I grin. “That’s exactly why I did it.”
“You stole the mascot because you knew you wouldn’t get punished?”
“No, I took the fall for it because I knew I wouldn’t get punished. Mo, he plays for Carlton too, he stole the mascot. I was having dinner with my parents at the Governor’s Mansion-” I snicker a little “-the night the mascot was stolen. But Mo was a scholarship kid, like you. Athletic scholarship. And he was afraid he would lose his spot at Carlton if he got expelled. So I took the fall. My dad was pissed at first, but then he met with the headmaster, did his governor thing and poof! The whole thing disappeared.”
Allie gapes at me. “It’s like I don’t even know you.”
“Obviously, Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth?”
“As in Elizabeth Bennet. Pride and Prejudice. So quick to judge the highly misunderstood Mr. Darcy.”
She laughs. “I’ll admit, I may have drawn some incorrect conclusions about you. But that was before I got to know you.”
“And now that you know me better, what do you think?” I hold my breath, way more worried about her answer than I thought I would be. I have no idea how I’m doing with these dates. Was this doggie baseball game a stupid idea? Maybe we should have gone to see a movie instead, but fuck, going to the movies just seems so…typical. And Allie’s not typical. She’s special. I’m trying to show her just how special by planning these dates around her and what I know she likes.
“I think…” Allie finally says. “You’re sweet.”
Sweet. Another grandpa compliment. Should I be concerned?
“Tell me something. Do women want a sweet man or a caveman?”
“A sweetheart in the streets, but a caveman in the sheets.”
I choke on a laugh. Where has this girl been all my life? “Oh, I can definitely handle that.”
20
Allie
THEO MONTGOMERY IS COCKY. And hot. Ridiculously hot. But he’s also sweet, something I never would have guessed two months ago.
Take today for example. I woke up with a horrible cold. Stuffy nose, sore throat, and everything. I couldn’t even make it out of bed, let alone bus it out to campus. A minute before class, I get a text.
Theo: Why aren’t you in sociology today?
Allie: Sick.
That was the extent of our conversation. I couldn’t type anymore on account of feeling like death warmed over and Theo didn’t send anything else. So color me surprised when he burst through my bedroom door.
“I come bearing gifts,” he announces.
“What are you doing here? How did you even get in? Did Lia forget to lock the front door again?”
“Actually, Lia let me in.”
“She did?” I sit up in bed, watching him advance towards me. “Damn it. Now she’s going to be mad at me. I was supposed to set you two up.”
“Nah, she already knew about us. She was the one who told me you were at the library when you were ignoring me.”
Both of my brows reach up to my hairline. “She’s known for weeks now? And hasn’t said a word?” That’s not like Lia. Then again, both of my roommates have been acting weird lately.
“Your gifts.” He hands me a notebook and…a robe? “Today’s notes, plus the Harry Potter robe I owe you. It’s the same as mine only with the Gryffindor badge, so we’ll really be matching next Halloween.”
Next Halloween. Next Halloween. My heart explodes in my chest at the implication we’ll still be together next year.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Hermione ends up with Ron, not Draco.”
“I ship Dramione. They are the one true pairing. And while I was getting the robe,” he continues after his ludicrous declaration, “I saw this mug. It reminded me of you.”
Turning the mug in my hand, I see it has the iconic glasses and thunderbolt Harry Potter is known for painted between a quote that reads Muggle in the streets, wizard in the sheets. A wicked grin curves along my lips, one that widens to full beam when I look up and find an equally goofy grin on his face. “Harry Potter mixed with a sexually inappropriate joke. It’s so us.”
A look of pure delight flashes across his face. “I know, right?”
“I love it, thank you. Now I owe you a gift.”
“Quit the strip club and we’ll call it even.”
I slant him a look. “Nowhere near equal.”
He snaps his fingers. “Well, you know I have to try at least once a week. What will it take to get you to quit?”
“I already told you: another job where I can work the same hours and make just as much. I have to be able to make rent. The club isn’t that bad. So. Any other presents?”
He shakes his head but proceeds to sling his backpack off his shoulder and unzip it. “Coconut milk ice cream, complete with a cuddle session.”
“Ice cream!” Taking the carton and spoon from his outstretched hand, I dive in. He watches me eat, eyes trained on my mouth. “What?” I ask, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Do I have a mustache or something?”
“Nope. Just imagining those lips wrapped around my cock,” he answers with a smirk, causing me to choke on my ice cream.
“That’s so not third date talk.”
“Good thing this isn’t our official third date,” he winks. And then he removes his shirt.
ABS. Abs on abs on abs. My eyes move over his body, my heart’s rhythm going wild. Maybe I should be concerned with all the thump, thump, thumping it’s doing, but I’m too busy drooling to care.
The truth is, I’ve never seen a guy built like Theo in the flesh. I mean, sure, there are toned guys in magazines and stuff, but they’re more of a pipe dream. Unattainable. Theo’s real and standing less than a foot away. He’s probably ruined me for all other men, the cocky jerk.
“When you’re done ogling me, can you scoot over?” he smirks. “Can’t cuddle from way over here.”
Caught red-handed, there’s no point in trying to hide my blush. “You can’t climb in here, it’s a twin bed. Also, why are you shirtless?”
He shrugs. “I spend hours whipping this body into shape so I only cover it up when public decency laws require it.”
I nod in mock seriousness. “Hiding those abs is a crime against womankind. Should you really be in here? What if you get sick and can’t play?”
“I never get sick.” Peeling back the covers, he jumps into bed and uses the remote on my nightstand to turn on the TV hanging on the opposite wall. “You can pick the movie, but there are ground rules. No weepy shit. No weird shit. And for the love God, no The Notebook.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” I settle on Dirty Dancing, smirking when he groans. “What? It’s not weepy or weird.”
He doesn’t answer, just wraps an arm around my waist and pulls my back against his chest.
Spooning. Theo Montgomery is spooning me.
One of his large hands alternates between stroking up my spine and massaging slow methodical circles along my back. So gentle and reverent, like I’m the best thing he’s ever touched. My mind is a haze of lust. It takes what little strength I have left in my weak body not to wrap myself around him and beg him to ease the tension building between my legs.
Get a grip, Allie. This isn’t sexual. I know he’s trying to comfort me, but how can I get comfortable when my body is so…aware of his? The way his tight muscles feel against my back, the way his semi hard cock settles against my ass, the way his hot breath fans across my neck…
Heat spreads across my skin and it has nothing to do with my sickness. I want to hug him closer. I want to turn around and brush my lips against his shoulder. I want to run my hands against those finely cut abs and explore, feel his skin against mine again.
I wonder how many other girls he’s done this with.
No. I’m not going to dwell on his past. Thinking about it just makes me feel insecure and I hate feeling insecure. I agreed to his dating proposition because he seemed so earnest and sincere. And he is trying, making more of an effort than I thought he would.
Sighing, I shift so I’m curled up even closer to him, feeling safe and warm and comfortable tucked against the protective curve of Theo’s body. The movie plays on and we watch in silence, the rise and fall of his broad chest against my back lulling me into a light doze.
“I love your bed,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.
“Really? What could you possibly love about my small as hell twin bed?”
“That you’re in it with me.” I nudge him with my elbow, lacking the energy to do anything else in retaliation for his cheesy line. “Say it,” he orders.
“Say what?”
“Theo Montgomery, you are killing this boyfriend shit.”
“Boyfriend?” I snort, even though my heart is on the edge of exploding with shock and joy. Even though I have goosebumps, goosebumps, from hearing that one word come out of his mouth. “Did you just give yourself the title? I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“No use denying the inevitable, Allie Cat. I’ve ruined you for all other men. Admit it.”
“Theo Montgomery, you are a cocky asshole.” I pause for a moment, just to torture him. Then I turn on my side so I can face him, wrapping my arms around his middle. Smiling at his surprised expression, I plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “You are also killing this boyfriend shit,” I whisper.
He’s still killing it a week later, when I’m finally feeling 100% again and he takes me to his family’s house for our third official date. Not the townhouse in Boston where we picked up Waffles last time. No, this is a huge mansion out in Weston. We have the house to ourselves for the evening, plus a full vegan meal courtesy of the Montgomery family’s private chef.
Did I mention he's wearing a suit? A real, honest to God, suit. A crisp charcoal jacket stretches across those broad shoulders, paired with a navy blue tie and a white dress shirt.
He's wearing a suit and I seriously can't stop smiling.
"What's that look?" he asks.
"Nothing. Wow, the tempeh fajitas were amazing." Stretching in my seat, my back bumps into his arm, which he kept around the back of my chair throughout the entire dinner. We’re eating at the massive granite island in the kitchen because Theo thought it would cozier than the formal dining room. “And this house! Is this where you grew up?”
“Yup. We lived here up until Dad got elected.”
I rest my elbows on the counter and watch him clear our dishes. “What’s the family business? The one you’re skipping out on in favor of football?”
“You mean besides politics? Banking and securities trading. Plus some really good investments made way before my lifetime.”
“Sounds…fascinating.”
Theo chuckles as he loads the dishwasher. “I can throw touchdowns all day, but that finance stuff?” He shudders. “No, thanks. I’ll stick with football.”
“Did you always know you wanted to play football?”
“From the moment I threw my first pass,” he nods. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like something just clicked inside of me, you know? I completed that first pass and I knew I wanted to play for the rest of my life. But the dream didn’t seem real until my sophomore year, when I threw 26 touchdowns with a 72% completion rate. That’s really good,” he explains at my blank stare. “And it would have been more had Coach not insisted on switching me off with S
chmidty for the first few games of the season.”
“Wow.” I’m impressed. I knew he was good, but not that good. “Your parents must be proud.”
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, but they worry too. Football’s a really physical sport. There’s always a chance of injury and the concussion movie didn’t do me any favors. My father convinced me to wait until senior year before declaring so I can have a backup plan, but they still worry.”
“They’re your parents. It’s their job to worry,” I point out. “Doesn’t mean they won’t be happy for you when you finally achieve your dream.”
“I know. I just wish following my dream didn’t cause them lose sleep at night.” Theo, the ever thoughtful son. And to think, just two months ago I thought he was your typical self-entitled jock. “And now for your favorite,” he says, returning with two spoons and a jar full of something brown.
“What is that?”
“You said the only things you miss from your pre-vegan days are your grandmother’s bean dessert thing and Nutella. I couldn’t find a bean curd alternative, but I did find a recipe for vegan Nutella on Pinterest. Made it myself this afternoon.”
“You did?” How does he still manage to surprise me with these thoughtful gestures? I take a bite and immediately moan in satisfaction. “Oh my God. This is so good.”
“The second best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he agrees.
“Really? What’s the first?”
He studies me for a few heartbeats, his steely gaze sending hot sensations all through my body. Then his lips brush mine, slow and sensual, a soft whisper of possibility. “You.”
I inhale sharply, my mind thoroughly scrambled by his unexpected display of tenderness. Something like hope blooms in my chest and what once seemed like a wild and crazy possibility no longer seems so wild and crazy.
Maybe the king of one-night stands really is interested in more than just sex. Maybe we can smoothly transition from enemies to tentative friends to lovers without a hitch.