She scoffs. “Jesus, Cillian, you act like I’m asking you to havesexwith me.” Her eyes roll and for a beat she’s quiet, her gaze dropping to the floor before lifting back to mine. “I don’t know how this works. I mean, I don’t even really know what I’m asking of you. I just know that I’m tired of being awkward and atrociously horrible at flirting with guys. I’m tired of being friend-zoned. I’m tired of being the wing woman. I want to be able to get any guy that I want.”
Is that how she sees herself?
My brow furrows, and she continues, “I just want you to teachme how to gettheguy. To talk to them, to flirt with them, to be sexy and feel wanted. To be more confident. To not second-guess and question myself over every little thing.”
I mean… yeah, she was shit at flirting with that bloke from the other night, but Rory’s hot. Objectively speaking. There’s no way other guys aren’t interested in her when she’s this bloody hot?
This should be easy despite what’s at stake. Right?
A beat passes as I weigh the pros and cons of this, giving myself a chance to come to my senses before I ultimately say, “I’ll do it, if you help me keep my spot on the team. I can’t lose it, St. James. Okay? I can’t. It’s not even an option.”
I’ll do anything to stay on the team… including teaching my coach’s daughter how to flirt.
“I know. I promise I’ll help, and I won’t let that happen,” she replies softly, her voice dropping low.
Clearly, I’m desperate or I wouldn’t be agreeing to this thing in the first place, but I think about my promise to Aisling. And how many times I’ve let her down in the last two years.
“All right. I’ll see you around,” I tell her as I pick my duffel off the ground, then hoist it on my shoulder and turn for the door.
“Wait,” she says, stopping me. Her feet hit the floor as she hops down from the desk. “We need some type of plan.”
I bite back a groan. She sounds like my sister right now with the damn plans. “Okay, so we’ll come up with one. Right now I have somewhere to be.”
“Okay, then give me your phone. Yourtelly, whatever.”
I roll my eyes and fish it out of the pocket of my joggers before handing it over to her. “‘Telly’? You realize English lads don’t saytelly?”
She smirks as she swipes it open and taps the screen before thrusting it back at me. “There. Now you have my number, and I texted myself so I’ll have yours. And Cillian? Obviously, don’t tell anyone about this. My dad doesn’t get involved in my personal life, but I’m not really interested in him knowing about myissueor my dating life at all.”
Her nose scrunches in distaste. Which shouldn’t be so bloody cute.
“Who am I going to tell? I don’t talk to anyone, remember?”
She nods. “True. Who knew you being a grumpy dick would actually come in handy.”
“See ya, St. James,” I say, walking away, her giggle echoing along the walls of the empty office. I’m still thinking about this stupid arrangement even when I make it out of the building and toward the quad.
I hope I’m not making yet another mistake, and this one? It could be the biggest one of all.
CHAPTER 9
Rory
Rory:Hi, it’s Rory.
Cillian:Figured as much.
Rory:Why? It could have been
someone else. If I remember
correctly, you collect phone numbers
like they’re trading cards.
Cillian:Not much of a texter.
Rory:This is me shocked
