by Hannah Gray
“I guess I am just different than the girls you’re used to. Sorry,” I try to rattle off with confidence.
I want to give him the impression that he doesn’t faze me. Even if that’s the furthest thing from the truth. His presence, his words, hell, his touch affect me more than it should.
His eyes cut to mine. “Don’t be sorry for being different than the other girls. Ever,” he basically growls at me.
Embarrassed, I don’t answer. And I sigh in relief when I see the Dunkin’ sign, and we pull in.
Keep it together, Memphis. He shouldn’t have the ability to mess with your emotions this much. You barely even know him.
But mess with my emotions he does. Oh, good Lord, how he does.
Lane
I pull up next to her car at the library to drop her off before she has class.
Holding up her coffee and a bag containing a chocolate chip muffin, she gives me a small smile. “Well, thank you for the ride. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
I hop out of the truck and jog around to the other side to open the door before she has a chance.
My father instilled it in us boys at a young age to open the door for our ladies. He’d say, “Son, I don’t care if your damn legs are broken. You get your ass to her door, and you open it.”
She steps down and turns toward me. She is close enough that I have a perfect view of her bright blue eyes against her fair skin. Eyes that beautiful are hard to look away from.
“Well, thanks again,” she says awkwardly while glancing down to the gravel she’s pushing around with her boots.
The devil on my shoulder is telling me to grip the nape of her neck. To pull her toward me and make her know how sexy I think she is. Thoughts come into my head. Ones of her legs wrapping around my waist as I push her back against my truck and do all sorts of dirty things. These fucking thoughts … they make my jeans uncomfortably tight.
Instead, I play the good guy and step out of her way, letting her walk past to her car.
“No, thank you, Memphis.”
She opens her car door, and I can see her breath in front of her because it’s so fucking cold. Damn New England and its insane weather. I hate this time of year. I’d rather be on a beach in Florida or California or some shit.
What I also see is what a nice ass she has in the tight jeans she’s wearing. She’s a small, petite girl, but boy, does she have a juicy ass on her. Of course I noticed. What can I say? I’m an ass man. Always have been.
“Your car has been sitting here most of the day. Why don’t I just give you a ride to your class?” I offer. It doesn’t seem right to drop her off in a freezing-ass car. Besides, I’m not quite ready for her to go yet, so I’m gripping on to anything to keep her with me a little longer.
A gust of wind blows her hair behind her, making it flow like a wave. “Thanks. I appreciate it, but I literally only have to drive around the corner. It’s all good.”
The thought of her driving in a freezing car to class doesn’t sit well with me. “You sure? I really don’t mind. I’m not doing anything the rest of the day anyway,” I say. Wanting more than anything for her to ride in my truck just a little bit longer.
She smiles and shakes her head. “Really, I’m good. But thank you. And thanks again for the ride. It was … nice.” She shuts her door and drives away.
I’ve only met her a few times. So, why do I feel like I’ve known her for so much longer than I have? Why does she bring this feeling of tranquility to me that no one has since Abby? It makes no fucking sense at all. Part of me is angry and annoyed with myself that I could possibly think of another girl in any romantic way. That makes me a piece of shit. I sure as hell wouldn’t want Abby falling for some guy who looked sort of like me.
One thing is for sure though—Memphis might have a similar look to Abby, but she isn’t Abby. She wasn’t even drinking at the Halloween party, for fuck’s sake. By the sounds of it, she isn’t a drinker. Abby was, well, she was the life of any party she went to. That drew me to Abby in my high school days. I found it awesome that my girl could keep up with me and the guys. But Memphis? She’s … put together and responsible. For some reason, I find it intriguing.
Abby was sweet and kind. But also a little crazy. And she never took anything too seriously. Other than school. Memphis? She has this way of carrying herself with such … elegance. She has a dry sense of humor. Which I actually dig. Yet she’s always so composed.
Like I said, the two of them might have a similar look. But they certainly aren’t the same person. Still, it’s fucking weird that I took Abby’s doppelgänger for coffee. I mean, that’s fucked up. And yet I couldn’t help myself.
Since the girl who was the love of my life died, I’ve never felt an actual connection to another female. I haven’t ever had that want or need to follow up with a girl to get to know her better once we’ve hooked up. Sure, I almost never have a party or leave a party without a one-night stand on my arm, making it pretty clear to see I certainly enjoy women. But not to just go for a ride with. Or have conversations with that wouldn’t lead to her pants coming off or me getting a sexual favor out of it. But with this girl, I really enjoyed just going to pick up coffee with her. For the first time in nearly four years, I felt … comfortable.
Guilt fills my stomach and pumps through my veins. Consuming my entire body, the way it always does when I start to feel any sense of normalcy or comfort.
I’ll never move on. How could I? How fucking fair would that be? And if heaven is real and if Abby can see me, how would that make her feel? I can’t do that to her. Whatever this weird pull is that I have toward Memphis, it needs to stop. And it needs to stop now.
There’s one problem though. I don’t know if I can get it to stop.
nineteen
Memphis
My mom’s bubbly voice breaks the silence at the dinner table. “So, Trent, how have school and classes been going?”
I know she wants Trent to like her so much that she’s overly friendly to him sometimes.
Trent’s dad, John, was a real jerk to Trent after his mom died. He was grieving and couldn’t cope with the feelings. But once John sought help and my mom came into the picture, John and Trent’s relationship apparently has become much better. My mom has a way of bringing people together. She honestly doesn’t have an ounce of unkindness in her body. I didn’t get my sarcastic and sometimes-bitchy attitude from her. No way. That’s something I got from my dad.
Looking up from his dinner plate, he nods and smiles politely at her. “School’s going good. Ready for it to be over though and to hopefully start the next chapter in the NFL.”
John pats his son’s shoulder. “You will soon. I’m sure of it.”
I watch as Trent visibly flinches. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It’s clear that whatever problems the father-and-son duo have is still a work in progress. Mending a relationship takes time though. It seems like these two are headed in the right direction. Trent might be kind of an asshole at times, but he’s experienced the loss of a parent, and I of all people know how painful that is. And how you carry it for your entire life.
“New England is the goal, right?” my mother says, her eyes bouncing between Trent’s and John’s.
Trent nods. “That’s the plan. We will see if they want me though. Especially after the championship game next weekend,” he says it as a joke, but I can tell he’s worried that they might not win.
The football team is all everyone is talking about right now. They’ve held their undefeated season, which evidently hasn’t been done in years. While also making it to the championship.
“Where is the game being held?” I ask Trent. Even though I’m not much of a football fan, it would be pretty badass to watch as they fought for the championship. And because of the obvious—the weird feelings swirling in my body for Lane that make me want to watch this big day for him.
His face says he’s surprised I asked him. We normally don’t talk a great deal to each o
ther. Both not into awkward encounters.
“Arizona,” he answers.
I nod once. “Sweet. At least it won’t be freezing balls there.”
He snickers. “Very true. Guess I never thought of that.”
My mind wanders back to Lane for the millionth time today. It’s been a few days since he came into the library and insisted on taking me to get a damn coffee. At that point, they hadn’t won the game that was going to take them to the championship. So, I have no idea how he’s feeling right now. But I’m betting he’s incredibly happy to be one step closer to winning the entire thing. He wants this badly. I could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. Now, hopefully, they can pull through and win. I know it would be a dream come true to him.
My mom lays it on extra thick, wanting to say anything to make this boy, who lost his mother at such a young age, feel more comfortable about himself. “Well, from what I hear, anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m sure you’ll get chosen.” She smiles. “And I’m sure you guys will kick that other team’s butt at the game next weekend.”
Wow, my mom is corny.
This is the fifth or sixth time we’ve all had dinner together since John and my mom began dating. I really like John. It’s pretty obvious that he loves my mom. And I can tell that he feels terrible for being a dick to his son for all those years simply by the way he treats him now. And with me, he always makes sure to be attentive.
“What about you, Memphis? You are starting an internship soon, right?” John says from across the table.
I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “Tomorrow actually. At a high school only about fifteen minutes from my apartment. I will mostly be working with the junior class. I’m super stoked about it.”
“That’s fantastic. It’s wonderful that you have found something you are so passionate about.”
At his kind words, my mother looks at him with nothing but pure adoration. There seems to be an unspoken message between them that they appreciate one another for caring about their own kid.
“What will the internship entail, honey?” my mom asks sweetly.
“Well, for the first few weeks, I’ll be working alongside an English teacher. But the goal after that is for me to be running the classroom myself.”
“How exciting, Memphis. You’ll do great,” she gushes.
I smile. I am really excited to be so close to finishing my degree and that much closer to being a teacher. “Thanks. I even get to come up with my own lessons.”
My mother has always been so supportive of me. I could tell her I wanted to be anything in the world, and she’d believe in me.
As John and my mom plan their trip to watch the football championship, I gaze across the table at Trent. I can see what all the fuss is about when it comes to him. He’s ridiculously good-looking. His dirty-blond hair, muscular AF body, and country-boy look. It’s no wonder why Trent, Lane, and Mason are pursued by every girl on campus. I mean, look at them.
That’s why I know better than to put much thought into Lane showing up at the library and taking me to get a coffee. At the end of the day, he could have anyone.
All of them sleep their way across campus. I’m sure the fact that I don’t throw myself at Lane makes the chase that more exciting. Guys love a good game of cat and mouse. Truthfully, I think girls do too. It makes us feel wanted.
According to my mom, Trent has been nursing a broken heart since this fall. Apparently, he confided in his dad about some mystery girl he fell for and how she ripped his heart out. There was some buzz around campus that he was briefly off the market, and now that I think about it, I did see him dancing at the Halloween party with a stunning blonde who was dressed up as a tiger. Though I have no idea if she was the culprit, he did appear rather into her that night. They did seem to have some sort of electric chemistry between them.
It’s for the best that Lane hasn’t reached out again though. I’m woman enough to admit that I could probably develop a lame schoolgirl crush on him if he hung around too much. I can tell he isn’t the type of guy I need to crush on. I’m at the point in my life where I don’t want to waste time hanging out with people who I know aren’t going to serve a purpose in my future. Whether that be as friends or as a significant other. Lane Rivers is not my Prince Charming. He’s not a guy I should get attached to either.
So, as hard as it was to not tell Ava about our little coffee date, I decided it was best that I didn’t. She would chalk it up to something that it wasn’t, and I didn’t want to deal with that. It might come off like I have a hard exterior that cannot be broken down. But honestly, when she goes on her tangents about Lane and how we could have maybe become something after the Halloween party ordeal, well, I let it go to my head. I begin to let myself fantasize about what it would be like to be with him. I don’t need those types of thoughts. And Ava—God love her—she certainly pushes those thoughts into my head.
Then again, I’ve kissed other men before, but nothing was ever like having his lips on mine. That was … insanely hot. The way his hand cupped my neck and his tongue worked with mine. He surely knows what he’s doing in that department. If kissing him was that intense, what would having sex with him be like?
A family dinner probably isn’t an appropriate time to get those thoughts in my head.
twenty
Memphis
After following the directions from my GPS, I pull my car into the parking lot of Forest Hill High School. The place where I am set up to do my internship.
Pushing my door open, I step outside, and I take in the building before me. It’s a nice school, to say the least. The building itself has only been here for three years. It’s all new and state of the art. And not too far of a drive from my apartment. I was thankful to get an internship here and not at my old high school. I thought that because some of my old teachers and principal are still there, it would have been sort of awkward. Here, at Forest Hill, nobody knows me at all. Although I’m sure, just by looking at this place, it will have its fair share of snobs and rich jerks.
Smoothing my skirt down, I take a deep breath. You’ve got this. Don’t let them see your fear. The second these students sense you’re intimidated, they’ll be on you like sharks on blood. I need to appear calm, cool, and collected. Even if I am nervous.
Pushing through the large, beautiful, yet incredibly heavy glass doors, I make my way to the front desk.
A woman in her mid-fifties with a rather expensive-looking blouse and gold necklace greets me with a warm smile. “Hello there. May I help you?”
I nod. “Hi. I’m Memphis Montgomery. I’m starting my internship today.”
“Oh, yes, we’ve been expecting you. From what your professors have said, we’re very lucky to have you on board.”
My cheeks heat instantly, and I curse my fair skin. Compliments always turn me into a giant ball of awkward, and I never know how to respond to them.
“Oh, thank you. Happy to be here,” I say, forcing a smile.
She nods her head eagerly and grins. “You’ll be with Amy today. The other student teacher just arrived as well.” She points past where I am standing. “Please take a seat in the lounge, and I’ll get her down here.”
I follow to where her finger is pointing, seeing an area where there are a few couches and chairs along with a water machine and coffeemaker. This place is much fancier than my high school—that’s for sure.
My eyes find the other student who’s doing his internship here, and I have a hard time forcing myself to stop from full-on gawking at him. Who knew men going for a teaching degree were that good-looking? I mean, my teachers certainly didn’t look like him. They were all also old as shit, but that’s beside the point.
Spotting me, he holds his hand out. “Hey, I’m Colton. You must be the other student teacher,” he drawls.
I pick up on a Southern accent. A sexy Southern accent.
He flashes me a smile, and hot damn, did it just get hot in here?
Granted, he has noth
ing on Lane, but he’s still super fine nonetheless.
There I go, thinking of Lane again. I don’t understand why my brain can’t stop him from coming into my thoughts every five freaking seconds.
I’ve been stalking his Instagram, and he surely isn’t thinking of me. He’s constantly getting tagged in other girls’ stories and pictures. After his last game, I think he had at least seven girls tagging him in posts. I swear he switches girls faster than his underwear.
Speaking of underwear, I bet Lane looks hot in only underwear. Oh my good-loving God, Memphis, are you sixteen years old or what?
I need to get it together.
I turn my attention back to Colton.
When I hold my hand out, he takes it into his, which makes mine look tiny. He’s well over six feet tall. His hair is almost as dark as mine, and he has dark blue eyes. His face is clean-shaven, allowing me to see his sharp jawline.
Am I meeting a real-life Greek god?
“I’m Memphis. Pleasure to meet you.” I smile.
His eyes lock with mine, and his lips part slightly. “I think the pleasure is all mine, Memphis.” His voice is silky smooth.
He’s certainly going to have a hard time keeping these hormonal high school girls away from him. Hell, he’ll probably have a hard time keeping the teachers away from him too.
A nervous laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to catch on to the fact that I’m awkward AF. Or maybe he is just a gentleman and doesn’t want to call me out on it. Either way, it’s appreciated.
Tucking my hair behind my ear for the twentieth time, I force myself to come up with a coherent sentence. “So, you are getting a teaching degree?”
He nods. “Sure am. Social studies. You?” There’s that accent again.
I’ve always loved country music, so speaking to a man in person with that kind of drawl, it’s super attractive.