Eight
Larissa
I turn side-to-side and check out my reflection.
The jeans from Halcyon fit me pretty well despite being a new-to-me brand, and the powder-blue top makes me look like I have more cleavage than I do. It looks decent and definitely casual, and Hollis said the dinner tonight was casual.
Then why does casual feel so wrong?
“And why am I trusting a guy’s take on the dress code?” I groan, scrunching my face up in frustration.
I turn around and take in the mess on my bed. Nearly every top I own that could remotely be labeled as casual lays in a heap.
I go back into my closet and thumb through the few remaining items. My eyes end up falling on a turquoise wrap dress that I borrowed from Bellamy a few months ago. I take the hanger off the rod and carry the dress into my bedroom.
With the late afternoon sunlight creating a spotlight on me, I hold the dress up to my body. I turn from one side to the other.
“I mean, it's kind of casual,” I say, still unsure. “But is it too much for … I don’t even know where we’re going.”
I blow out a breath and feel my spirits sink.
“Just pick something, Larissa,” I mutter as I hang the dress on the back of my closet door.
I wander around my room and try to remind myself of who I am. I am not a girl who gets worked up about what she wears or puts this much effort into getting ready. Ever.
I wonder vaguely if this is what other girls feel like. Does Bellamy get this obsessed about getting dressed every morning?
Probably. And it’s probably why she looks phenomenal in everything she wears.
Ugh.
I just don’t have it in me to care this much.
I walk over to my desk and take a seat. I open my laptop and check my email. Coupons for ice cream, newsletters from romance authors, and shipping updates fill my inbox. But there’s one message buried in the middle of the list that stands out. I click on it.
The email from my academic advisor at school is short and sweet. The last few classes I need to take to finalize my bachelor’s degree are written in black and white. I needed an urban design course but had failed to take the prerequisite math class. My new advisor promised me he would work it out, and after some shifting around and an online course, I’m thrilled to see it finally confirmed on my schedule.
A rush of relief mixed with excitement flows freely through me. I sit back in my leather office chair and revel in the feeling of things going according to plan.
Landscape architecture was a no-brainer for me. It’s creative and artistic and gives me access to sunshine and fresh air—two things I need to feel alive. It was the only career option that would allow me to create something beautiful or something practical—or something practically beautiful—and feed my soul.
I let myself imagine what life might be like in just a few months. While everyone seems to think I’ll go into residential landscape design and work with my family’s friends and acquaintances, that’s not at all what I want to do.
My dreams are much bigger than designing golf courses and sculpted lawns. I want to create actual spaces and transform specific areas that make people feel at home.
I want to do something more than inspire one family. I want to do something bigger, something bigger than me.
Designing gardens for convalescent centers so people who can’t go home can still sit outside and feel safe and relaxed is on my bucket list. I hope to create green areas in the middle of the city for commuters to find a bit of calm in their day. I would die over the ability to tuck in a little garden somewhere with a flow of energy that others can flock to when they need a shot of happiness or hope. My goal is to use my skills and passions to make other people’s lives better—to extend the gifts given to me.
The summer that Bellamy and I spent at her grandma’s house changed me in a deep, molecular-level way. I needed to be surrounded by life and colors and calm to survive the disruptions in my life during those months. My heart craved that peace. It was desperate for it. And now that I know what can deliver that kind of respite from life’s stresses, I want to be able to bring that to others.
It’s a secret I stumbled onto and one that I can share with the world.
I rock back and forth in my chair, relishing in the idea of the future, and make the mistake of looking over my shoulder. Instantly, I’m reminded of my very real first world problem of not knowing what to wear.
Better to overdress and impress than underdress and obsess, my mom says.
“This time, you just might be right,” I say out loud.
I get to my feet and grab my phone. I press Bellamy’s number.
“Hey,” she chirps after barely the first ring.
“Hey, Bells.”
“What’s up?”
“Well … I was wondering if it would be okay if I wear that turquoise dress that I borrowed from you a while back. Do you know the one?” I glance at the fabric draped on the hanger across the room. “It’s a wrap dress that has a very faint cream-colored checkered design on it.”
“I forgot you had that.”
I laugh. “It must be really hard to have so many clothes that you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh, like you have any room to talk.”
I roll my eyes. “So can I wear it? I mean, I could’ve just put it on, and you wouldn’t have known, but I thought I’d ask first.”
“I don’t care. I didn’t even know I didn’t have it, so it’s not like I’m attached.” She smacks her lips together as she eats something. “Where are you going?”
The thought of saying Hollis’s name makes me smile. The idea of being with him again makes me shiver. The realization that I’m going to have to tell my best friend what’s going on has me bracing myself because she’s not going to just gloss over it.
There’s no way.
“I’m just helping out a friend and going to dinner with them,” I say as breezily as I can manage.
Bellamy reads right through my attempt at evasion.
“And who might your friend be? Because it’s not me. And not that I’m your only friend or anything, but I do feel like I would know if you had plans to go to dinner with someone.”
Her tone is teasing but pointed enough for me to know she’s going to press until she has an answer. There’s also enough of a smugness to tell me that she already knows the answer.
I hold back a laugh. “You’ll be pleased to know that I took your advice.”
“This is starting off strong.”
“Your girl over here talked to her mother about Jack’s event and put my foot down. I told Mom that she wouldn’t be picking out my date. Period.”
She pauses. “So, you’re going alone?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She sighs before smacking her lips together again.
“What are you eating?” I ask.
“Cheetos. The hot ones. My mouth is on fire.”
I laugh.
“Don’t try to distract me,” she says. “I know where this is going, but I’m going to make you tell me.”
“Why?” I whine, hoping I’d managed to get away with not telling her. It’s not a big deal. But just in case things don’t work out the way I imagine, it would be easier not to have to explain it to Bellamy later.
“Because it’s more fun that way,” she says. “Also, I knew this whole thing between the two of you wasn’t over last night.”
“What are you talking about? There’s no whole thing between me and anyone.”
“You might be able to trick yourself or him or your mother or whoever, but you aren’t going to trick me.”
“I’m not trying to trick anyone,” I tell her, slipping out of my jeans.
“Good. Because I saw you with the hottie last night. I saw the way he looked at you like he wanted to eat every part of you and—”
“Ew!”
“Don’t ew that. You write way too much off too ea
rly.”
“Anyway …” I say, trying to distract her.
“Anyway, I saw the way he looked at you and the way you looked at him—which was not a whole lot different than he looked at you, but I’ll keep my descriptions vanilla to protect your innocent little ears.”
I laugh, bobbling the phone between my hands long enough to slip out of my shirt.
“I almost called Boone and bet on how long it would take you to see him again,” she says. “But I got distracted by Suit.”
“How’d that go?”
“It went. He accidentally called me late last night, and I purposely picked up. We talked for a bit, and then he came by and stayed for a while. I’ll let you fill in those blanks,” she says, sighing. “But he left before dawn. I probably won’t see him again.”
I make a face. “And why not? Was he weird?”
“No. He was fine,” she says, brushing him off like a crumb off her shoulder. “Just not for me.”
“You do realize that you’re going to end up murdered in your sleep one of these days.” I take the dress off the hanger. “You need a hotel room that you can use to meet up with guys in or something.”
“I have a security system. If I get murdered, find the footage in the cloud and nail that sucker to the wall.”
I laugh. “I’m glad you’ve planned ahead.”
“You know me. I’m always planning.” She laughs too. “So back to … what’s his name again?”
“Hollis.”
The name ripples off my tongue.
“That really is a great name,” Bellamy says. “And it matches him. You know, it’s really weird when people don’t match their names. Like when you meet a beast of a man, and his name is Clyde. But then you might walk into the library and spot a geek sitting by the history section, and his name is something like Mauricio. So sexy.”
I put Bellamy on speakerphone long enough to tug the dress over me. I smooth the lines out around my hips and then adjust the wrap to cinch my waist and enhance my boobs.
“Not bad,” I mutter, checking myself out again.
“Where are you going with Hollis?”
I pick up the phone and take her off speakerphone. “I actually don’t know. It’s a dinner he was invited to, and they asked him to bring his family. He’s in town alone and doesn’t know anyone but me. So I’m going with him.”
“That’s convenient. Lucky you. And you might get luckier if you don’t get all weird about it and start ruling things out before they can become options.”
“That’s already been taken care of,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “We’re going to the dinner and Jack’s thing from a baseline of friends. It doesn’t matter as much tonight for his thing, but Mom has to think I’m taken so she stops trying to match me with random men. We just need to sell it so that Mom thinks I’m forming a friendship with Hollis to see if more is there post-graduation since he doesn’t live here.” I shrug and drop my hand. “So we’re friends. It’s completely platonic.”
She snorts. “Yeah. That’s gonna work.”
“What?”
“You really believe that you’re going to spend two evenings with Hollis and manage not to touch him. Or be begging for him to touch you? Come on, Riss.”
I swipe my lip gloss off the dresser with a little more force than necessary. “Yes, Bellamy. I do.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t okay me like that,” I say, coating my lips with another layer of gloss. “Just because this mutually-beneficial situation makes it seem like I’m getting all willy-nilly with my take on dating last night, I’m not. Two platonic nights with Hollis will keep my eyes focused on him. There will be no looking at all the delicious athletic man specimens tomorrow night. I’m still anti-athlete. I will be for eternity.”
“I love how you always just go all-in. It’s eternity or bust!”
I laugh. “It’s called commitment, and I’m not the one who has a problem with that.”
“Ouch,” Bellamy says, knowing I’m talking about her and her refusal to even date a man seriously. “So what does Hollis do? What’s his deal?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know much about him, really. He was a good-looking single man standing by a bar when I needed him. I don’t know much else.”
“And I’m the one who’s going to end up murdered?”
“He’s not a murderer.”
“All you know is that he’s hot. There have been hot serial killers.”
I gasp. “What are you trying to do here? Get me to cancel?”
“Hardly,” she scoffs. “I was just pointing out a touch of hypocrisy on your part. I’d totally go with him.”
I set the gloss back on the dresser and try to ignore the hint of jealousy that settles in my stomach. I really don’t know what to do with it.
There’s no reason she couldn’t go with him—not that she was saying that. She wasn’t. She wouldn’t do that. But the idea of Bellamy going with Hollis tonight makes me feel a certain way that I don’t love.
“Okay, Bells. I gotta go. Hollis should be here soon,” I say, shaking my head and hoping the crazy thoughts leave.
“Have fun. Make sure your tracking is on so I can find you if you end up in a ditch.”
“You are a terrible friend,” I joke.
All she does is laugh.
“Talk to you later,” I say.
“Call me as soon as you get home. I want all the details.”
I grab my purse. “There will be no details that you’re interested in hearing.” I head into the hallway with a final look at myself and deposit my purse near the door.
“You’ll have no good details because you’re lame.”
“I’m not lame. I’m just trying to figure out my life over here and not just roll in the breeze.”
“When did you get all judgy?” she teases me. “You get a hot boyfriend, and all of a sudden, you’re a little judgy friend.”
I laugh. “I’m not judging you, and he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Let’s reconvene this conversation in a week.”
“Let’s not.”
“You go rock my dress and look hot and call me later. Love you. Bye.”
“Bye, Bells.”
Before I even hit the button, the doorbell rings.
My head whips toward the door as I end the call. I drop my phone in my purse and check the mirror one last time.
“You got this,” I whisper.
I take a deep breath and tug open the door.
It’s a damn good thing I hold onto the frame with the other hand.
Hollis is downright edible—a word I can never tell Bellamy after our conversation today. It’s safe to say I won’t even remember thinking it because I’m reasonably sure my brain just went dead.
He’s dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans that fit a set of muscled thighs like gloves. A black collared shirt is stretched across his broad shoulders.
His forearms are thick and heavily roped. On one wrist is a series of leather bracelets in a variety of styles.
He runs his hand through his hair, making the strands fall to one side. I know many guys will stand in front of the mirror forever to make their hair appear as though they don’t give a crap about it. But I really don’t think Hollis spent any time on it.
And that makes it so much hotter.
He stands on my doorstep, smelling like rich leather and chewing a large wad of pink bubble gum. He makes no secret of looking me up and down, letting his gaze sizzle my skin with each sweep.
I shiver as I force a swallow and try to remember how to speak English.
“Hey,” he says, the words kissed with a sweet, slow drawl that’s not quite Southern.
I clench the doorway even tighter. “Hi.”
“The gentleman in me wants to say that you look beautiful.” He smirks. “But the man in me wants to tell you that you look fucking hot.”
My cheeks flush. “Well, thank them both for me, okay?”
H
is smirk deepens.
“Let me get my purse, and we can go.”
I turn away from him and grab my stuff. I use the opportunity to get some fresh, un-Hollis-scented air and to let myself settle just a bit.
You’re friends. He’s a super-hot Boone. Go into it thinking that.
I turn as he blows a bubble. As it snaps, he winks.
Shit.
“What’s your last name?” I ask him as I step outside.
“Hudson. Why?”
I shut the door and lock it before dropping my keys into my purse.
“Just in case you kill me. That way, Bellamy knows who to look for,” I say.
He chuckles. “Hopefully, she’d call the cops.”
“You’d be lucky if she did that and didn’t come after you on her own. She’s a savage.”
A black Mustang sits at the end of the sidewalk. It has dark window tint and blacked-out rims.
It’s exactly what I would imagine Hollis driving.
“Is this your car?” I ask.
“No. I stole it.”
I look up at him to see him grinning.
“Yes, it’s my car. It was a graduation present of sorts.”
“It’s nice. It fits you.”
He seems to take this as it was intended—as a compliment. He smiles and opens the passenger’s side door.
“What’s your last name?” he asks.
“Mason.”
“Good last name,” he says.
What’s that even mean?
I climb into the car and halfway fall into the low-sitting seat. When I look up, he’s grabbing the window frame and looking down at me. The look in his eyes is full of mischief and innuendo, and I feel it fire through my veins.
“We’re just friends, right?” he asks.
I nod because I don’t trust my voice.
He nods too and closes the door.
“This is going to be a long night,” I whisper. “And much harder than I thought.”
Nine
Hollis
“I think this is where we're going,” I say as I pull into a driveway.
A large brick mansion towers in front of us.
The Relationship Pact: Kings of Football Page 8
