The Dating Playbook

by Farrah Rochon

  The morning of the test, she’d spent an hour meditating to the calming hum of Tibetan singing bowls from one of the apps on her phone. When she slid into the chair in the lecture hall a few hours later, she’d felt calmer and more confident than she ever had in a classroom. But, per her standard operating procedure when it came to anything to do with school, the weeks of preparation and positive self-talk dissipated the moment the test administrator told them to break the seal on their testing booklet.

  The irrational fear she’d always faced in school had instantly sprung to life, bringing with it the debilitating anxiety that tightened her chest and made her insides feel as if she was both ice cold and fiery hot. She’d left the testing center after the first bathroom break and had ignored the follow-up emails regarding the test.

  Why would she want to put herself through that again? The gig she had going with Jamar was bound to lead to the success that had eluded her in the past. It was all but guaranteed.

  You thought the same thing about going viral.

  She sucked in another deep breath to quell the turmoil churning in her head. Just the thought of going back to school, of sitting in a classroom and suffering through a test while some teacher breathed down her neck, made her start to hyperventilate. But if there was one thing this past year had taught her, it was that her lack of a degree had become a nearly insurmountable brick wall between her and her goals.

  She took a step forward, running her hand along the ACT prep manual’s glossy spine before lifting it from the shelf. She’d allowed Samiah and London to think that she’d just come up with the idea to go back to school, but it had been swirling in her head for well over a year. She’d researched the nutrition and kinesiology programs at area universities and diligently read over the course requirements to figure out how many credit hours she could carry while still working full-time. And then she’d signed up to take the college entrance exam.

  That damn test. It persisted as the one barrier that stood in her way.

  Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. There was another obstacle that she’d done her level best to ignore over the years.

  Despite her reluctance to even glance that way, Taylor’s gaze traveled to the section just a couple of yards to her right, where the purple and green cover taunted her. She knew exactly where the book on common learning disorders stood on the shelf, between the one on sensory processing disorders and the one on curriculum planning for the exceptionally gifted. She’d flipped through its pages on a previous trip to this bookstore, studying the diagrams about kinesthetic learning styles and skimming the chapters on how learning disorders develop and tools for helping those who have them.

  Her eyes fell shut. She tried to swallow, but it felt as if her constricted throat would never open again.

  She looked down at the thick prep manual in her hands, hands that had started to sweat. She set the manual back on the bookshelf and turned away, darting from the aisle and out of the store without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As they stood at the base of Mount Bonnell, Jamar tilted his head back and stared up at the thick clouds hovering overhead.

  “Are you sure about this, Taylor? It’s going to storm.”

  She brushed off his concern with a dismissive wave. “We don’t have to worry about the rain for a few more hours.”

  “Really? Is meteorology one of your secret talents?”

  “Well, if it was a secret talent, I wouldn’t tell you about it, would I, smart-ass?” She swept across her phone and held it out to him. “My weather app says the rain isn’t coming until late this afternoon.”

  “Far be it from me to question the scientists at Apple, but this sky?” He pointed upward. “This sky is calling bullshit.”

  “You know what? In the end, it doesn’t matter because I’m the trainer, so I make the rules. And I say we’re hiking Mount Bonnell. We’ve been working together every day for nearly two weeks, you should understand this by now.”

  Yes, he understood her by now. He understood that she could be stubborn as hell when she wanted to be. He threaded his arms through the sleeves of his hooded running jacket, then knelt to tighten the laces on his tennis shoes.

  “A little rain never hurt anyone,” Taylor said as she twisted from side to side, stretching her obliques. “After all, you need to be ready no matter what the conditions are on any given Sunday.”

  Except when those clouds opened up, it wouldn’t be a “little” rain. He’d lived in Central Texas long enough to know when a washout was imminent.

  “For someone who claims to know so little about the sport, you sure toss out football facts when they suit you.”

  “I’ve been watching ESPN.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m totally lying,” she said with a laugh. “Since you’re so concerned about the rain, I’ll cut out the hamstring and quad exercises I’d planned for our climb to the top. Instead, we’ll make this a timed run up the staircase. Once we get to the summit, we can run the trail.” She put one foot up on the third step and leaned into a quad stretch. “I brought you here because navigating that trail will help with dexterity and conditioning your knee to adapt to various playing conditions.”

  “You know, there’s this thing called ladder drills that we could have done at the gym.”

  “Who’s the trainer?”

  He blew out a deep sigh. “You’re the trainer.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a sharp nod. “Now, my fastest time up this staircase is just under five minutes.”

  “Pfft. I can break that record in my sleep.”

  Straightening from her leg bends, she narrowed her eyes as she propped her hands on her hips. “You know, one day that mouth of yours will write a check that your cocky ass can’t cash.”

  “Maybe,” he said with a shrug. Then he grinned. “But not today.”

  Her growl only made him laugh harder as they started up the stairs. “Watch it,” she warned. “This limestone is slick even without rain.”

  The roughened steps had been made smooth by decades of people pounding their way up the hill, but they were still uneven in many places.

  He spotted a couple descending the left side of the staircase and nodded a greeting as they passed them down the hillside.

  Taylor looked back over, and in a loud whisper, she said, “They’re probably in that other car that was parked at the base of the mountain. At least we don’t have to put on a show for the public.”

  And she considered that a good thing?

  Guess he was the only one who counted down the hours until they could put on their show for the public. The hand-holding, the lazy grins, the longing glances, the whispering in each other’s ears…He’d started to really get into their little performances, especially when they turned out like the one they’d put on a couple of days ago.

  After a three-hour workout in Zilker Park Monday morning, they’d returned to the food truck park where they’d first discussed working together. Unlike their previous trip there, the area had been packed with the lunchtime crowd, which meant they had to perform their happy couple routine.

  As she held his hand while waiting at her favorite smoothie truck, Taylor had leaned over and told him a stupid knock, knock joke. Jamar had refused to laugh, which only made her try harder. He returned with a silly joke one of his agent’s kids had told him about a snowman and a vampire, but Taylor wouldn’t bite.

  It became a competition—because when it came to Taylor, everything was a competition—to see which one of them could make the other laugh first. She’d won, but not because of a silly one. It wasn’t until she’d shocked him with a dirty joke that Jamar had cracked.

  Was it all really just a pretense for her?

  Why wouldn’t it be? That’s what they’d agreed to, wasn’t it?

  He was the one who’d allowed that kiss to consume him these last few days. He couldn’t blame Taylor for the uneasy heaviness that had settled in his stomach
. She’d kept up her end of their bargain so far. This was all on him.

  As he extended his gait to reach one of the steeper steps, a sharp pinch shot through his knee.

  What the fuck?

  He brought his other leg up and just stood there, unsure. Anxious.

  Taylor peered over her shoulder. “Hey, you tired already? I thought you could break my record in your sleep?”

  Jamar looked up at her. “What?”

  She stopped. Her eyes narrowed with her frown. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving off her concern. “I decided to let you win this one. It wouldn’t be fair for me to win them all.”

  “Whatever,” she said with an amused eye roll. When she turned to continue her climb, her foot slipped on the slick stone. She yelped as she fell forward, bracing her hands against the limestone steps to cushion her fall.

  “Whoa. I got you,” he said, hooking an arm around her waist. He hauled her up, her back against his chest. “You okay?”

  He had to take a minute to claim some control over his senses. It felt way too good to have her body this close to his, to have an up-close-and-personal view of that tiny tattoo he’d noticed peeking from under her shirt collar. It was a butterfly.

  She looked back at him. “Just get it over with.”

  Jamar’s stomach pitched sideways. Was she asking…?

  “Just say it,” Taylor taunted. “I told you so. We should have worked out at the gym today like you said.”

  Jamar blew out a shuddering breath. He nudged his chin forward. “We’re almost there. It’s too late to back down now.”

  He helped her regain her balance, and they continued the climb up the staircase. Once they reached the summit, he took the lead, guiding her to the wood and stone pavilion at Covert Park, the greenway that covered the top of Mount Bonnell. It wasn’t until he let go of her hand and noticed the red smear on his own that Jamar realized she was bleeding.

  “Hey, come here,” he said, walking over to the ledge that served as a bench.

  “It’s nothing. I just scraped it a little.”

  He took her hand in his and turned it palm side up. It didn’t look too bad, just a couple of surface scratches, but it had to sting like a bitch.

  “Too bad it was my idea to come out here,” she said. “I can’t demand hazard pay if I’m the one who put us in harm’s way in the first place.”

  “You had good intentions,” he said. “Here, it shouldn’t take much to clean this up.” He used the bottom of his shirt to dab at the cuts.

  “Let me take a wild guess,” she said. “You were planning to become a doctor if you hadn’t gone into football.”

  “A doctor? No way.”

  “Why not? You said you were so smart in school.”

  “I said I did all right,” Jamar replied, knowing he was being modest. He graduated valedictorian of his high school class and magna cum laude from UT. “My degree is in marketing, which is as far from medicine as you can get.”

  “What did you plan to do with a marketing degree?”

  “Market research. Back when I was in high school, I took a class in free enterprise. I had to write a paper on how cereal companies choose where to place cereal on the shelves and became fascinated with the concept.”

  “The sugary stuff at kid level, right?”

  He nodded. “It’s genius when you think about it.”

  “It is.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Too bad you won’t be able to use all that knowledge. You’ll be too busy playing football for many years to come.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Not hopefully. You will. No defeatist attitude allowed, remember?”

  “I’m not being defeatist, Taylor. I’m being a realist. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it’s better to be prepared just in case things don’t go your way.”

  “If you work hard enough—”

  “You’re still not guaranteed anything,” Jamar said. “No matter how hard you work to make something happen, there’s a chance that it won’t. That’s just life. Having a backup plan is smart.”

  Her expression turned contemplative, as if she were taking stock of his words. After a moment, she shook her head and said, “So, marketing? Is that what you plan to do?”

  “Nah.” He shrugged. “My agent thinks I should join his sports management agency. He’s convinced I would be good at it.”

  “Well, I know even less about what sports agents do than I know about football,” she said, amusement illuminating her brown eyes. “But I’m sure he’s right. After witnessing your determination in the gym, I’m convinced you’re the type of person who would kick ass at anything you set out to do.”

  Jamar couldn’t conceal the stunned smile that stretched across his face. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

  “I call ’em how I see ’em.” She issued a teasing warning. “Don’t let it inflate that massive ego of yours.”

  “You know my ego really isn’t that big,” Jamar said. “I’m only joking when I try to come across as this super arrogant kind of guy.”

  “Nooo,” she said with feigned shock. She shoulder-bumped him again. “I know you’re only joking. You’re one of the good ones, Twenty-Three. I can tell.”

  The sincerity reflected in her eyes triggered a reaction better left unexplored. Jamar swallowed past the sudden knot that formed in his throat, knowing he didn’t deserve her praise. She had no idea what kind of guy he was. The things he’d done. How he’d treated the person he’d called his best friend.

  The simmering shame that had burned continuously in his gut for the past seven years flared to life. He quickly doused it, shoving the reminder of his long-ago sins to the recesses of his mind. He was in the process of righting his wrongs; harping on them would do him no good.

  Jamar continued to gently dab at Taylor’s palm with the edge of his shirt. When he looked over at her, her attention was on his face instead of what he was doing to her hand. The thumping in his veins escalated.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, flooding his brain with the memory of how those soft lips felt against his. If someone asked him to trade the car they’d arrived in for another taste, he would toss them his keys without a second thought.

  He angled toward her. Her eyes roamed over his face as she leaned forward.

  But then she pulled back.

  “Umm, we should probably hit the trail before the rain comes,” Taylor said as she gently extracted her hand from his hold. She jumped up and walked over to the edge of the pavilion.

  Jamar closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing past the knot of lust clogging his throat. “Yeah, that’s what we’re here for after all.”

  He tucked his shirt back inside his running jacket and tugged at the zipper, securing it underneath his chin.

  “Is this a race?” he asked as he came up behind her.

  She turned. “Of course it is—”

  He took off before she could finish her sentence.

  Jamar jogged along the path, dodging any protruding stones. She’d been right with her dexterity argument; the way he had to sidestep the various impediments mirrored the fancy footwork he often found himself doing on the field.

  Out of nowhere, he felt a stinging slap on his ass.

  “Pick it up, Dixon,” Taylor said as she whizzed past him and darted down one of the narrow paths that shot off from the main trail.

  He bolted after her, skirting around a huge branch that had fallen along the path. He was mindful of his knee, waiting for that twinge he’d felt earlier to return. He slowed, unsure if the pinch he’d felt just now was real or a figment of his anxious as hell imagination.

  Fuck. He’d faced this before, back when he first started rehab. Every twinge sent him spiraling. He often thought the fear of reinjuring his knee was as debilitating as if he actually did hurt it.

  He heard Taylor approaching and assumed an exhausted pose, resting h
is hands on his thighs. He’d rather her think he couldn’t keep up than let on that there was possibly something wrong with his knee. He had no doubt she would demand they put an end to the workout if she thought he could reaggravate his injury.

  Jamar wasn’t about to stop now. He could work through this.

  “Really?” she said as she came upon him. “If you can’t handle this, some of my more challenging training circuits might just kill you.”

  He sucked in several shallow breaths, then with a wink said, “Bring it.”

  She burst out laughing. “You can’t help yourself, can you? You can barely catch your breath, yet you have the nerve to talk trash?”

  “I’ve been trash-talking since high school. I think it’s just a part of me at this point.”

  He stood up straight and discreetly tested his knee, relieved when he didn’t feel anything unusual.

  “I don’t want to imagine you in high school,” Taylor said. “I’ll bet you thought you were the hottest shit to ever walk the hallways.”

  “I was the hottest shit to ever walk the hallways at Katy High. You would have been all over me.”

  She pointed her finger at her mouth in a gagging gesture.

  Jamar took a step toward her. “How much you wanna bet?”

  “So damn cocky. I told you that mouth will get you in trouble.”

  His eyes zeroed in on her lips, his own curving up in a devilish grin. “I can think of one way you can shut me up.”

  Arousal and anticipation mingled in the air around them, as thick as the smell of the impending rain. The attraction that had been steadily growing between them pulsed like a quickening heartbeat.

  Taylor advanced on him, backing him up until he came in contact with a tree. Her brow arched. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

  “Bring it,” he said again.

  She braced her hands on either side of his face and leaned forward. “There’s no one else here. We don’t have to put on a performance for anyone,” she murmured.