“Sorry.” I wince. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast and those vodka Red Bulls didn’t help.”
Cillian signals the waitress over and asks for an order of mozzarella sticks, pretzel bites, potato skins, and onion rings that makes my mouth water just thinking about them.
“I’m surprised you’re eating fried food. Most of the guys on the team stay away from stuff like that during the season.”
“It’s not for me.”
My jaw falls open. He ordered four appetizers…justfor me?
“You need to eat,” he says simply—that tiny, nearly indecipherable curve of his lips returning for a fleeting moment.
I realize that the moments when he allows his mask to come down are rare, but they’re powerful. It makes me wonder just howmuch more Cillian is beneath what he shows everyone else now that I’m experiencing it firsthand.
Something tells me there’s more to his story than I ever thought.
I nod. “Okay. Cool. Um… what about you? What do you like to do outside of rugby?”
“Not much. Class. Workout. Sleep when I can.” He answered the question, yet it doesn’t feel like much of an answer at all.
Still, I press on. He’s not the only one who gets to ask the hard questions and expect an answer.
“There’s got to be more to you outside of rugby, Cillian.” I repeat his words back to him, and he rolls his eyes as he rakes his fingers through his hair.
At first, I think he might not answer at all, the beats of silence hanging between us stretching impossibly far, then he finally murmurs, “I watch stupid reality shows with my sister.”
Now this… is surprising.
“Cillian Cairney watchestrashy TV?” I gasp in mock surprise, unable to keep the teasing smile off my face. If I didn’t know any better I’d say that the tips of his cheeks turn slightly pink at his confession.
He shrugs. “My sister likes it. I do it because I know it makes her happy.”
So there it is. The big bad wolf does have a heart underneath all his rough exterior.
CHAPTER 11
Cillian
When my phone chimes for what feels like the hundredth time, I groggily lift my head from the pillow, peering around the darkened room.
Shit, what time is it?
I feel around the mattress for my phone, finding it underneath my pillow. I crack one eye open and swipe across the screen. I groan when I see the time.
It’s barely six a.m. and I’ve already got four text messages.
Seeing as how the only person I ever talk to is Aisling and now…Rory, I know it’s her before I even open them.
Rory:Okay so, I have an idea and I
know you’re probably going to hate it
but… Oh well.
Rory:No you’re definitely going to
hate it but you asked for my help.
Remember that.
