Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy #1) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,4
flashing me his dazzling smile. But since we were both in a rush—Bryce to get to class and me to get to the campus gym to teach a spin class—he quickly got my number and promised he’d text me “really soon.” Which he did. Ten minutes later, as a matter of fact. And then again that same afternoon. And, again, later that night. But each time Bryce texted, he’d caught me at a bad time, and I could never text with him for long. “Damn, you’re even busier than I am,” Bryce texted. To which I replied, “Hustle beats talent, when talent doesn’t hustle, baby.”
We agreed to touch base the next day with an actual phone call, so we could compare our busy schedules and find a time to “connect”... which I prayed was code for “find a good time to have sex.” Because, Lordy, I’m ready to have some good, fun sex with a smoking hot guy. No strings attached. I haven’t had sex since Shawn, and I think I’m suffering from physical withdrawals. But since the last thing I want is another relationship right now, especially with another athlete, “no strings fun” is the only thing on my menu.
Unfortunately, though, things didn’t go according to my big plans. When Bryce and I finally had that phone conversation the following day—for a full hour, in fact—it quickly became apparent we weren’t on the same page. Not at all. As it turned out, Mr. Football wasn’t the sexy, cocky, bad boy I’d been projecting onto him. In fact, much to my dismay, he made it clear during our call he’s been raised by his God-fearing momma to be a one-woman kind of guy. To always, always look for a girl who, get this, is “wife material.”
And it only got worse from there. As I sat there silently freaking out on my end of the line, Bryce went on to proclaim he’s not looking for an “easy” woman, like all the girls who throw themselves at him, day in and out, but, instead, wants a faithful, loyal girl who’ll “support him religiously” through the NFL draft and beyond. Someone he can trust. Someone he can lean on. Someone who’ll love him, unconditionally, and not care about all the money and fame coming his way. All of which I thought was a bit much to say during our first phone conversation. I mean, come on, is it really so wrong for a young, horny girl to want a smoking hot guy for nothing but his dazzling smile and hot body?
But Bryce had more bombs to drop during that crazy-ass phone call. As I sat in stunned silence, thinking maybe I was being punked, he asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight, Georgie?
“Uh, no,” I replied honestly, my insides knotting at how badly I’d misjudged him. “Why? Do you?” Obviously, I shouldn’t have said that last part. Indeed, the moment my question left my lips, I knew I’d messed up.
“Not before I met you,” Bryce replied. And I swear I threw up, just a little bit, into my mouth. Just like that, the lady-boner I’d had for Bryce McKellar at the coffee place sagged to my knees, and I couldn’t get off the call fast enough.
I knew in that moment I’d have to come clean with Bryce and confess I’m not the future wife he thinks I am. That, in fact, at this particular stage of my life, I’m probably closer to the “easy women” who throw themselves at him, thanks to the past couple of years that have left me emotionally drained and determined to fly solo for a while. But right then, I was too stunned to make that particular speech to Bryce. And so, I got off the phone without saying any of it—and also without confirming any plans to “connect” with him any time soon.
But now, Bryce is here. Holding my shoulders so I don’t crumple to the ground after bouncing off his hard chest. And, this time, I can’t simply hang up my phone to avoid him.
“Bryce,” I gasp out, teetering in his firm grasp.
“Are you okay?” he replies, chuckling.
“Yeah. Sorry. I was running.”
“I could see that.” He grins. “I was just about to text you, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? Wow. Hang on.” I pick my phone up off the ground—noting, thankfully, that the screen didn’t crack upon impact—and breathlessly tell my stepsister I’ve got to call her back.