Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
He’s one of the last players out the door, and when he clears the exit, a group of people approaches him, with hugs all around. That’s when I notice the resemblance and realize his family is here for this too.
My feet stall, and I shuffle awkwardly. Abort! Run away!
I’m so not ready to meet the parents.
Whit’s eyes lock on mine, and even as his brow furrows, his dimples appear. “Rainn?”
I slowly approach, my gaze flicking between him and his family. “Uh, hey. I, uh …”
“You came to see me play?”
“I did. I, uh …”
He turns to the people behind him. “Can I get a second?”
They agree but watch with fascination while Whit leads me away.
“Umm, hi,” I say.
Whit smiles. “Hi.”
God, I want to lean in and kiss him, but I refrain.
“Can I drive you home?” I blurt.
He glances at his family and then back at me. “Sure. I already got permission from Coach to go home with my family instead of the team bus, but I’ll go tell them I’m going with you instead.”
Why does my throat suddenly feel thick?
“Family, huh?” I figured as much, but my heart pounds hearing it for sure.
“Yeah.” Whit points to the guy who’s about his height, but who’s a lot more rugged and hairy. “That’s my brother, Campbell, his fiancée, Christie, and the old people are my mom and dad.”
I scratch my ear because it suddenly feels hot. “You can go home with them if you want.”
Whit waves me off. “I see them all the time.” He starts to walk away, but I stop him.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Do they know? Uh, about me?”
Whit rubs the back of his neck. “Kind of? I mean, coming home the other morning was a big clue there’s a guy, but, I mean, they don’t know you or your name or anything like that.”
“Oh. Okay. Did … you … I mean, did you want to tell them about me?”
“Is there really anything to tell? We’re friends who have hooked up once.”
It hurts that he sees me that way, even though I’ve given him absolutely no indication we’re more than that. Hell, I don’t even know if I want more than that.
“Fair enough.”
“If it were up to me, I’d march you over to them right now and introduce you, but I didn’t think you’d be okay with that.”
I’m not. Not really. But I also don’t want to make a bad first impression with Whit’s family. Even if we don’t figure out what’s going on between us, he’s still a friend first and foremost.
“Maybe you could introduce me as a friend, and then when we work out what this is, they won’t be all ‘Oh, your boyfriend is that guy who blew us off at your game?’”
Whit cocks his head. “You think boyfriend could be a future label?”
Oh shit. That did not just fall from my mouth, did it?
I fan my face. “How is it this hot in March in Vermont?”
Whit laughs. “Come on. I’ll introduce you as my friend … for now.”
Yup, I think as we head over to his family. Definitely having a March heat wave. Totally a thing. Yup.
“Hey, guys,” Whit says. “This is my friend Rainn.”
Whit’s family are all warm hellos except for Campbell.
“Rainn, huh?” Campbell eyes Whit. “The bartender? That Rainn?”
“Uh-huh.” Wow, real articulate. Way to go.
“So, uh, I was thinking of driving home with him instead,” Whit says. “Maybe go out for a drink.”
“If that’s what you want,” his dad says.
Whit’s mom steps forward to give her son a hug. “Go have fun, sweetie.” When she pulls back, she lowers her voice, but I still hear it. “Can we expect you home tonight or late tomorrow?”
There goes the notion of introducing me as a friend.
“Uh …” Whit struggles to answer.
Before I know what I’m doing, I take Whit’s hand. “Late tomorrow.”
“Drive safe” is all she says.
Whit’s stare burns into me as I lead him away. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
Neither can I, but it’s done now. “It’s obvious they knew something. It’s up to you to tell them what we are … or aren’t.”
“Okay, then.”
What is wrong with me? Two steps forward, a giant leap back.
“I’m shit at this stuff,” I say.
“What stuff?”
“I’ve been told by girlfriends in the past that I’m not good at expressing myself and that I’m hard to read. And I know I’m probably sending you mixed signals, but I’m trying not to.”
Whit stops walking and tugs on my hand to pull me toward him. “You’re not good at expressing yourself, but I can read you. You want to explore this with me, you want more, but you’re terrified.”
“I’m not terrified—”
“Let me finish. You’re terrified you’re going to do or say the wrong thing and I’m going to get hurt, so you’re trying to keep my expectations low. I, in turn, am trying not to get my hopes up. I’m in a rush to the finish line, but you’re showing me how to pace myself. And though it’s more for your benefit than mine, I appreciate it because I am the type of person to jump in heart first and think later. I’m good with where we’re at, and I never expected you to want to meet my family, let alone basically tell them we’re sleeping together. I’m trying to take this one night at a time.”