The Wrong Girl_Hanson University_Book Two

by McKenna Kerrick

  “Thanks,” I roll my eyes.

  “When does she work next?” Alex asks. “Maybe we can all go together. That way it won’t be creepy just being you.”

  Ian scoffs. “I’m not creepy.”

  “A huge guy waiting alone for a girl outside of a pizza place,” Alex states firmly. “You’re liable to be called a serial killer or something. Isn’t that what those people on the ID Channel do? You sound like the start to one of those episodes.”

  “I am not a serial killer,” Ian scowls.

  “You’re just a football player,” I supply. “But I agree with Alex, it won’t look like you’re stalking her if you’re just going to eat with friends. We can tell the hostess that we know her so we can be seated in her section. Seems like a good plan.”

  “See?” Alex grins proudly. “I’m not just another pretty face.”

  “I can’t believe I thought about asking you two for help,” Ian shakes his head. “Your advice is at least more decent than Killian’s.”

  “What did Killian say?” Alex asks.

  “To just outright ask her, yell across the room if I need to,” Ian scowls. “No way in hell am I embarrassing her again just to get her attention.”

  “It works sometimes,” Alex shrugs.

  “Don’t tell him that,” I frown. I sit up straighter in my seat when one of the girls from the class comes sauntering over. “What do you want? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a conversation?” I grumble.

  Screw it, I’m allowed to be bitchy. These girls don’t know when to leave well enough alone.

  “I just wanted to come get all the facts right,” Blondey McBoobs glares at me. She turns her full attention towards Alex and Ian. “So, you really have a girlfriend?”

  I am right freaking here.

  “You mean the girl behind you that you keep pissing off?” Alex asks in a bored tone. “Yeah, that’d be her.”

  “Why didn’t you date any of us?” she demands. I wonder if she’ll stomp her foot too.

  Too bitchy Grace, reel it back.

  “It’s hard to understand?” Ian gapes in mock frustration.

  Alex rolls his eyes at him. “Do you know anything about me?” Alex asks, sitting up straighter to look her in the eyes.

  “You play football.”

  “Okay, what else?” Alex persists. “Why do I play? What would I be doing if I didn’t play? What’s my favorite movie, television show, thing to eat?” He waits a minute before continuing. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, and that’s fine. You’re a fan of football? Great. But you don’t know me. So give me one good reason as to why I would want to date you?” He leans back in his chair, done with his little speech.

  She doesn’t have anything to say to that, just tilts her chin down and walks back towards her friends in silence. A part of me, a very small part, feels bad for her. But they had to of known on some level it was never going to be anything serious with him.

  “For the record,” I say after she’s finally back with her friends, “you don’t even have a favorite food. You’ll eat anything.”

  Alex shrugs with a grin on his face. “So? She still doesn’t know that.”

  Well, he’s got me there.

  “This is why I don’t sleep around,” Ian says. “I don’t want to deal with this kind of drama in my life. I’m way too chill to deal with it.”

  “Whatever,” Alex rolls his eyes. “Back to your dilemma. What advice are you going to take?”

  Ian sighs. “Probably yours,” he says begrudgingly. “But I’m not taking Killian or Lila. Lila will try to make him be polite and he’ll just be a bigger ass than usual and scare her off.”

  “Aw,” I lean over and poke Alex in the shoulder. “Did you hear that? We’re the least asses out of our group.”

  “Hooray,” Alex deadpans. He turns to Ian to add, “But that’s great. We won’t be obnoxious, but we might be when she’s not looking. You know, to at least have an air of Killian there.”

  Ian rolls his eyes.

  “Oh! You should invite her to my dance,” I tell Ian. “Maybe you could make it a date.”

  “If he even gets that far,” my boyfriend mumbles under his breath.

  This time it’s me who rolls my eyes. “When does she work next, Ian?”

  “Tonight,” Ian flushes. “I don’t know if I’m ready to do this. Maybe in a couple of days we can try or something.”

  “Nuh-uh, you can’t lose your nerve now!” Alex protests. “Come on, Grace and I are great wingwomen.”

  I arch an eyebrow at that.

  “There’s two, we can’t be a woman with two,” Alex rolls his eyes. “Come on, keep up with the times, Grace.”

  “I just thought you’d say wingman,” I shrug.

  “You’re a woman,” Alex says as if that’s supposed to mean something to me.

  For the record, it doesn’t. But I don’t care, because we’re helping out a friend. “Alright, whatever. You’re the one who wants to ask her out, so let’s do it. We’ll be there for moral support.”

  “Right,” Ian deadpans and looks over at Alex who’s happily grinning away in his seat. “Your boyfriend totally looks like he’s ready to help me with my girl problem and not some ulterior motive.”

  “This is just my face, dude,” Alex smiles. “Just accept it.”

  “Grace,” Ian says to me, “you’re in charge of him. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

  Like that’s going to actually work. I don’t have any control over what Alex does, but I nod my head to appease Ian, which it looks like he believes.

  Poor Ian.

  Later on that night we head out. We’re at Luca’s, apparently that’s the name of the pizzeria on campus. They finally hung up a sign in the entryway, so now everyone knows what it is. And it’s some pretty damn good pizza.

  Ian mutters something to the hostess, probably the girl he’s afters name, and we’re seated in the far back of the room closest to the kitchen doors. It smells like pepperoni has seeped into everything in this place, making my stomach growl.

  “Oof,” a girl says as she accidentally hip checks our table. “Give me a second and I’ll get your order.” She flees to the back of the kitchen without even looking at us.

  “Was that her?” Alex prompts.

  “Yeah,” Ian tilts his head back and then looks around the room. “It’s not too late to hightail it out of here, you know. I’m totally cool with that.”

  “We’re here to help you, remember?” I tell Ian. “So calm down, it’ll be okay.”

  The waitress comes back, shoving her dark brown hair out of her face as she turns to greet us with an overly enthusiastic smile. “Hi! What can I get for you?” As soon as her eyes land on Ian, though, they go as wide as saucers.

  “Hey,” Ian says cooly. It’s like a switch got flipped and all of a sudden he’s calm, cool, and collected.

  “Uh, hi,” she stammers. “Two times in one week, you must really like pizza,” she rattles on.

  It’s kind of cute the way they keep staring at each other. She looks frightened, not of him, but of the situation she’s in. The situation Ian purposely put her in. Poor girl.

  “Do you want water again?” she asks.

  “She remembers your order,” Alex announces and then I feel Ian kick at Alex’s shin.

  “Stop it,” I mutter to Alex.

  “Yeah I’ll take a water again, thanks,” Ian nods his head.

  “Two waters over here too,” Alex chimes in.

  She scribbles on her notebook quickly. “Kind of pizza?”

  “Pepperoni,” Ian says and holds up two fingers. “Two, and make them a large.”

  “Anything else?” she asks, looking around at all three of us. Her eyes look like they’re the color of Hershey Kisses.

  “My friend,” Ian takes a second to clear his throat, “is doing a dance performance in two weeks. Do you want to come?”

  The poor girl narrows her eyes at him. “I’m Megan’s fri
end.” She points towards her chest. “You know exactly who I am, Ian. Why are you asking me out?”

  “Because I want to.”

  Smooth Ian, that was real smooth.

  “I don’t date football players, sorry,” she sighs, though she looks far from sorry.

  “Why not?” Ian asks. “You haven’t dated anyone on the team, I checked.”

  “No one knows who you are,” Alex pipes in. “But honestly, Ian’s not a player like some of us are. He’s a really great guy, a great catch.”

  Ian rolls his eyes.

  “I can’t,” she answers apologetically. “But I’ll bring your waters back.” She dashes off before anyone can say anything to her.

  “Well,” I say after she’s gone. “Maybe she doesn’t like you.”

  “What?” Alex gapes. “Ian’s awesome. Everyone likes him.”

  “I’m just saying, she was really adamant,” I sigh. “I thought maybe she would be shy or something, but she was really quick to say no.”

  Ian leans back in his chair and stares blankly at the formica tabletop.

  “So,” Alex interjects, “what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Ian frowns. “Give her space? Maybe try again when she’s not at work. Maybe she wants to come off as super professional or something.” He tilts his head to the side. “Or maybe she seriously doesn’t like me.”

  “You could always ask Megan,” I point out. “See if she’ll tell you what her friends deal is.”

  “I doubt Megan would want to get involved,” Ian frowns. “I’ve never liked one of her friends before like this. So I doubt even she knows how to react to it. She probably just doesn’t want me around so I won’t ruin their friendship or something.”

  “For a girl, that makes sense,” I say. “Not everyone wants their friend dating their brother. That could end disastrously.”

  “Or not,” Alex shrugs. “Just ask what the deal is, if it’s not worth it then let it go. Move on. We only have a semester left, it’s not that big of a deal.” He leans forward and lifts one eyebrow. “Unless it is.”

  “It’s not,” Ian deflates. “I’ll let it go.”

  When the waitress brings back our waters, she doesn’t look at Ian, but I see the way he looks at her. It’s definitely doesn’t seem like it’s over.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alex

  Ian lied.

  He knows it, I know it, and I’m pretty sure Grace knows it, but I don’t bring it up. We’re in the middle of a game for goodness sakes. It would probably throw Ian off his balance. Like we needed our star wide receiver to be off his game when we’re trying to make the playoffs. To grab at that Championship trophy our senior year.

  Ian rotates his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches our defensive line topple over onto the opposing team’s guys. I walk up to him, noting that Killian is on his other side.

  “Ready to win this?” I ask while holding my mouth guard in one hand.

  “Like it’s not a piece of pie,” Killian scoffs.

  “If you two would shut up, I’m trying to focus,” Ian grunts.

  Killian leans back so Ian can’t see his face as he arches his eyebrows at me like he’s silently saying, What the hell was that?

  I shrug. But I have a sneaking suspicion that I know the answer.

  “So how’s Grace?” Killian asks instead. “You said her grandparents came out for this?” He looks up at the sky, where the dark clouds are gathering and it’s pretty obvious we’re in for a snowstorm.

  “They’re under the overhang,” I nod my head. “They’ll leave when it gets too cold. Her grandfather might be one stubborn son of a bitch, but he knows not to push it. Especially since he wants to see Grace dance tonight.”

  Killian nods his head. “We’re all rooting for her to win, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Is she nervous?” he asks.

  I pause before answering. “I don’t know. I don’t think she is right now, but she might be before the game. So there’s still time to help her calm down.”

  Killian wiggles his eyebrows and I slap the back of his helmet since I can’t smack his actual head.

  “Not like that,” I scowl.

  “Can we focus for like two seconds?” Ian interrupts us. “Not that I don’t love hearing about your love lives on the daily, but this game could send us to the Bowl, so could you two not talk about girls for two seconds?”

  “What crawled up your ass,” Killian grumbles.

  “Nothing,” Ian huffs.

  I shake my head at Killian, a silent warning.

  “Fine, but we’re talking about this after the game,” Killian points at Ian. “You wanna be a miserable bastard, do it on your own time. Don’t drag my girlfriend into it because your girl is being stubborn.”

  “She is not my girl!” Ian yells.

  A few heads turn our way before minding their own business. But one look from Coach Stephens says it all, You three get your shit together.

  The whistle blows, a cue that we’re changing sides. We take our positions on the field. I can see Ian standing at the end of the line, his feet in position and ready for our whistle to start our turn on the field. I yell at for Sanchez, one of our offensive linemen, to move his fucking feet farther over before I get my ass sacked again.

  The ref blows, and it’s everybody for themselves. I get the ball, backing up far enough to spot Ian exactly where I want him down the line and send out a spiral in his direction. He’s so far out that there’s no one around and the ball drops beautifully in his hands.

  And that’s all I see before I’m slammed to the ground by two defensive players. A shoulder goes into my stomach and another comes up by my head. You’d think we were trying to actually kill each other out here.

  But we’re not.

  We’re just playing ball.

  And from the screaming coming down from the stands, I don’t even need to watch the Jumbotron to know that Ian got it in the endzone on our first down.

  That’s how the rest of the game goes. We’re up by almost double when the clock runs out. It’s one giant party on the field. The people in the stands swarm down, up and over the concrete siding as they jump for joy in the stands.

  I don’t know what makes me do it. It didn’t end well last time, but one of the reporters with a microphone in his face comes up and asks me what my favorite part of the game is. And I know exactly what I want to say.

  “My girlfriend Grace out there watching,” I speak loudly into the microphone and blow a kiss to the cameraman. “I love you, sweetheart!”

  The reporter laughs and congratulates me before moving on to a different player to ask him the same damn question.

  I’m moving towards the coaches, away from the crowd on the sidelines to shake their hands before walking towards the locker room. When I enter, Ian’s sitting on the ground by his locker, his back up against it and head tilted back.

  “You don’t look happy,” I say, dropping down across the aisle from him at my own locker. “We just won a big game, the one you told me and Killian to shut up so you could focus on. You should look happy.”

  “I am happy we won,” Ian grumbles.

  “Then what’s the issue?” I ask, yanking off my gear until I’m only wearing my pants. I cross my arms and stare down at him. “Is it the waitress? Is that why you’re acting this way?”

  “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me, man,” Ian sighs. “I don’t get this way about people I don’t even know.”

  “You liked Grace,” I shrug. “And then you didn’t. It just took time to move on, remember?”

  “I moved on because she’s yours and always was,” Ian shakes his head. “I felt it in my core when I kissed her. I sound so fucking mushy saying that.”

  “You’ll find someone,” I say strongly. “I’m sure of it. Maybe it’s not her. Maybe it is. I don’t know, I can’t tell the fucking future. But seriously, Ian. Be excited right now, y
ou just scored major points that led us to victory. At least pretend to be happy when the other guys get their asses in here, okay?”

  “Fine,” Ian rolls his eyes. “I’ll be happy.”

  “Thank God,” I tilt my head back and grin in victory. “Because the last thing you want is Killian to see you moping and giving you any more shit about this.”

  “Thanks, man,” Ian says as he rises up. “I really am thankful for you and Grace coming out with me that night. It meant a lot to have someone there.”

  “Because it would have been serial killer creepy to have gone by yourself,” I correct him. “But I’ll take the praise anyways.”

  “I saw you on the television,” Ian points over towards the small TV in the corner of the room. “It was nice. Hope Grace heard it.”

  “I just said it to let her know I was happy,” I shrug. “And maybe it’ll make every female on campus leave me the hell alone.”

  “That would be nice,” Ian laughs. “And it’s better than last year when you wanted a party.”

  “Coach kicked my ass over that one,” I sigh. “That’s never happening again. Ever. Grace would kill me.”

  “She really would,” Ian laughs.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” Killian hops between us. “How are you not as pumped as I am?”

  “Probably because I don’t run on caffeine like you do,” I deadpan. “Your entire being is basically made up of sugar.”

  “And spice and everything nice,” Killian sings. “Come on, that was a good one.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Alright Ian,” Killian points at our friend. “Do we need to talk about what happened on the sidelines?”

  “Alex already beat you to it,” Ian rolls his eyes. “But thanks.”

  “What?” Killian turns to gape at me. “You got him to calm the hell down all on your own? You’re growing up.”

  “Or I’ve just always been the more mature one out of the two of us,” I deadpan.

  We both stare at one another before cracking up into a fit of laughter. Killian and I were about at a tie for who was the more childish one out of us. Hands down, Ian was always the more mature one. The mother hen. Whatever you want to call it. But he definitely outranked both Killian and me on a maturity basis.