The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel - Vi Keeland Page 0,17
inches long.”
Brody interrupted, grinning. “My stick’s bigger.”
I rolled my eyes, but continued with my story. “Anyway. I was sitting way too close to the fire with my short stick trying to brown my marshmallow, and my hair caught on fire. I was lucky I didn’t get burned badly, but it singed the entire half of my head. I had to walk around with my head shaved for my entire sophomore year. And I was grounded for a month.”
We both had a good laugh at my expense. “You know the funniest part of that story?” Brody asked.
“What?”
“I still want to do dirty things to you.”
The waitress came to the table and cleared our plates. Brody asked for a few minutes to decide on dessert, which gave me a much-needed minute to regroup. I folded my hands in front of me on the table. “So this is it? This is my courtship? A dinner, which you basically made me come to in order to get an interview for my job, and now I’m supposed to have sex with you?”
“By the tone of your voice, I guess I shouldn’t answer yes to that question?”
The waitress returned before I could respond. “Would you like dessert?”
Brody pointed to the menu. “Bring us one of everything, please.”
She justifiably looked confused. “You want one of every dessert?”
He looked at me. “That’s right. She needs more courtship. Bring us one of everything.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“See,” he said when Siselee had gone. “I’m entertaining, too. I’m making you laugh. And you think I’m hot. This is a great courtship. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Excuse me? I never said I thought you were hot.”
“You don’t have to. I feel it. It’s in the air when we’re near each other. You’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”
“You’re nuts.”
“Admit it.”
“Honestly, it wouldn’t even matter if I did—“
“You do—“
“Whatever. I don’t do casual sex.”
“Why not?”
“Because sex has to be more than just . . . sex.”
“Why?” His eyebrows drew down. He really didn’t comprehend my answer.
“I need an emotional connection with the person to have sex with them.”
“You mean like a relationship?”
“Yes. A relationship. I’m not talking about marriage. But dating. Getting to know each other outside of the bedroom.”
He blew out a rush of air. “I can’t do that. I need to keep things simple.”
I forced a smile, hating that I felt a little disappointed. “See, we’re better as friends.”
“I don’t have any girl friends. Well, ones that I haven’t, you know.”
“Well, then this will be a first for you.”
“I guess it will be.” He extended his hand to me to shake on our newfound friendship, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, keeping my hand wrapped in his when he spoke. “I’m disappointed. I was really looking forward to seeing your clothes on my bedroom floor.”
“Even these clothes?” I arched an eyebrow.
The waitress wheeled our dessert cart over, forcing us apart. I hated to admit it, but I missed his touch when he let go of my hand. All those sweets would be filling in for something else.
Things returned to normal after that. Well, normal for us. We argued some more. He said some more inappropriate things, and we ate one bite each from thirteen different desserts. I was glad I had on my fancy new elastic-waist pants.
“I’m stuffed.” I leaned back in my chair.
“You can sure eat for a little thing.”
“That’s not something you should ever point out to a woman.”
“I can if she’s only a friend, right?”
Neither of us made an attempt to end the evening, and it wasn’t until we were the only people left in the restaurant that I realized how late it was. “Wow. We’ve been sitting here for almost four hours.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“I know. Tonight wasn’t anything like I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t expect to get to know you, really.”
“You expected me to be just a pretty face, didn’t you?”
I laughed off his comment, but that sort of was what I had expected. An evening of sexual references and talking shop about football. Don’t get me wrong, we had plenty of that, but there was also more. I couldn’t remember the last time a first date had went that well. Shit. This isn’t a date.
An hour later, we pulled up at my building. He parked, turned off the car and came around to open my door. “No doorman?”