But I’m also ridiculously attracted to him. And it’s clear he’s not going to stop pursuing me until he gets what he wants. The quickest and easiest way to keep him from becoming a huge distraction is to find out exactly what he wants and let him have it—provided it’s something I’m willing to give.
Sex? Sure.
But I’m not opening myself up to the possibility of being featured in nonconsensual porn again.
That means no sex in a frat house. And no letting a casual hookup have a phone handy.
Now that I’m looking at Cal, he offers me a smirk and picks up his menu. “I’ve never been here before,” he offers. “My roommate told me about it when I was looking for a place. He said it’s really good, and good for conversation. Which, if you know Simon, is saying a lot. That dude barely talks.”
Smiling at Cal’s choice of small talk, I pick up my own menu. “Oh yeah? That must make living with him pretty easy, at least. Unless you prefer having someone who talks all the time.”
He snorts, glancing up at me. “It was nice for a long time. And then he started dating my sister. So now I’m plagued with her presence half the time, and if she’s not at our place, he’s at hers.”
“Having the house to yourself sounds nice, though. And as long as he’s good to your sister, what’s the problem?”
He sets his menu down and stares at me until I look up. “Would you like it if your brother were dating your best friend?”
Laying my menu back on the table, I stop and think about that, one corner of my mouth curving upward. I shake my head and pick my menu up again, trying to decide between the duck and the ravioli. “I don’t think you’ll like my answer.”
He snorts. “Please. You’d really be okay with it if your brother dated your best friend?”
I shrug, deciding on the duck. While the mushroom ravioli sounds really good too, I get duck even less often. “My best friend is in California. So if she were dating Gray, she’d be here, which would be good in my book. Plus, Gray’s a pretty cool guy most of the time. I like my friend. I like my brother. I wouldn’t be mad about them liking each other.” I raise one eyebrow. “I take it you don’t feel the same way. So it must be your sister who you don’t like, because I’m guessing your roommate was also your friend and not just a random guy you live with.”
His lips press together in a firm line, and his eyes flick between me and my menu. “You decided what you want to eat?” The question is gruffer than normal, lacking the polished charm he usually gives me.
“I have,” I say carefully, setting my elbow on the table and leaning my chin on my hand. “Have you?” How fascinating that when the conversation turns to him and his sister, he clams right up.
He grunts, his eyes back on his menu. Then he sets it aside, his hands rubbing his thighs under the table, his shoulders tight under his navy blue dress shirt. Finally he expels a breath. “It’s not that I don’tlikemy sister,” he starts, but just then our waitress approaches.
I fight back a smile at the tight set of his mouth, his nostrils flaring as the waitress asks for my order before turning to Cal. By the time she gets to him, he seems to have regained his lost equilibrium. He’s usually so smooth that seeing that side of him is … entertaining.
When the waitress leaves, I sip my water and watch him, wondering if he’ll continue our earlier conversation. But he doesn’t, instead going for safer topics like classes and majors. Discovering that he’s pre-med somehow doesn’t surprise me. Nor does his goal of playing football professionally. He’s got high-achiever written all over him.
“What about you?” he asks, after filling me in on the NFL draft pick process. I knew some of that from Gray, but Cal seemed excited to talk about it, so I let him, enjoying seeing another side of him. His excitement is infectious, and it’s clear he wasn’t lying earlier when he said he’s not afraid of hard work. Though anyone trying to play a professional sport would have to be willing to put in the effort. “What are your plans after college?”
I shake my head, adjusting in my seat as the waitress sets our dishes in front of us. We both murmur, “Thank you,” and pick up our silverware. Cal waits patiently for me to take a bite before looking at me expectantly again.
“Law school, most likely. Get out of Spokane, though I’m not sure where I’m planning on applying exactly yet. I just know it won’t be here. We’ll see, though. Right now I’m just trying to play catch up.”
Cal’s eyebrows jump. “Catch up from what?”
Oh, right. Ugh. I don’t want to get into that right now. “Not everything transfers easily.” It’s almost true. I know other transfer students who’ve had difficulty with transfer credits because there’s not an exactly parallel class offered here or something. It seems to happen more with classes in your chosen major.
Cal seems to accept that answer, though, nodding and cutting another bite of his steak.
“How is it?” I ask, nodding to his plate. That was my third choice. And discussing our food seems far safer right now than continuing to discuss my transfer. Because the next question is almost always,Why did you transfer?And we’re definitely not going there. Not tonight. Probably not ever.
His eyes brighten and a slow smile curves his lips as he cuts another bite. “It’s really good. Tender. Delicious. Wanna try a bite?” He holds up his fork, a bite speared on the tines, offering it to me.
My mouth pulls to the side as I consider him, his wicked little grin, and the bite of food. I mean, he’s willing to share his food. That makes him less likely to be a complete dick, right?
I lift my hand to reach for his fork, but he pulls it back and tsks. “Let me,” he says, his voice low and velvety. His gaze zeroes in on my lips, a spark of hunger lighting his eyes that has nothing to do with food, igniting an answering spark of desire between my legs. Just his attention on my mouth makes my skin prickle with awareness.
Ohhh. We’re playing this game, are we?
He raises his gaze to my narrowed eyes. Do I want to let him feed me?
The zing of arousal I feel at the prospect seems like my body is saying yes.
