My Next Play

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  She gave me a look and shook her head. “Stop. We’re just friends, and I’m fine with that.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I said. “We already know I’m awkward as hell. I’d probably be worse if I thought the two of us were dating.”

  “I’m not sure exactly how to take that,” she said with a laugh.

  I cringed. “Not that you aren’t wonderful...” I began, and she shook her head.

  “You should stop while you’re ahead.”

  “I can’t stop in the middle of a thought like that. I like you as a friend.”

  “Same. Not that you aren’t adorable.” She winked.

  “Great. Adorable. That’s exactly what I want to hear.” I smiled as I said it, and she laughed.

  We went back to cooking, and soon, I cleared my throat. “So, I was right in remembering Nessa is working today?” I asked, trying to act happy.

  Natalie gave me a bland stare. “Yes, Nessa is working. However, I don’t know when she’s off. She could be here at any moment. Do you need to go freshen up before she shows up?”

  I blushed as I put my glasses back on. “No. It’s not like that between us.”

  “And are you sad about that?” she asked.

  “No, Nessa isn’t for me. I know that. She had a crush on Pacey.”

  Natalie studied my face. “And that is completely over. I don’t think it’s going to work out with that Xander guy, either.”

  I perked up, meeting her gaze. “Really?” I asked, annoyed that I sounded so eager.

  She gave me a knowing smile. “She told me that it wasn’t, so I’m going with that.”

  I set that aside since I didn’t want to focus too hard on what it could mean. And the best defense is the best offense. Or something sports-related. “Since you and I will never work out…” I teased. “Do you have your eye on anyone else?” I asked, trying not to think about Nessa since I was already acting weird enough.

  Natalie shrugged. “Not really. I’m not so good at the whole dating thing. Or the talking to guys thing.”

  I blinked at her, then looked down at myself. “Um, is there something you need to know about me?” I asked, only half teasing.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to say you’re not a guy, but you’re nice.”

  “And guys aren’t nice...”

  “That’s not what I mean. I don’t know. The guys at the house treat me like I’m human, don’t ignore me, but also don’t make me feel weird.” She fluttered her hands. “I’m not saying this right.”

  “The guys are nice.” I paused and smiled. “Well, perhaps not Tanner.”

  “Tanner’s nice sometimes.” She shrugged before sticking out her tongue, her focus on the garlic she was now carefully trying to mince. “He annoys me, yet I feel like I can talk to him. Just like I can talk to you. You treat me like I’m normal and human, not like this weird little virgin girl who’s never actually talked to a guy.” She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

  I winced. “You being a virgin isn’t exactly a secret to the eight of us. I mean, Corinne used to mention it offhandedly, and we all heard it.”

  “Ugh. Just bury me in the backyard right now,” she said dryly. “Maybe that’s why you guys act like it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not a big deal. However, I don’t know how to say that I’m friends with you all because there’s no romantic interest there. Sanders was always an asshole, so I never felt comfortable around him. Tanner annoys the hell out of me, so I’m not usually comfortable when it comes to him, either—except the times when he’s kind. The rest of you, however? You are all nice. I like being your friend.”

  “I like being your friend, too.”

  She smiled at me just as Nessa walked into the kitchen, her gaze darting between us. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you guys were in here. I’m sorry for interrupting.” She turned on her heel, and Natalie just laughed.

  “You caught us. So much for trying to keep it a secret, Miles. But I can’t.”

  My eyes widened. “Natalie,” I muttered.

  “Caught you at what?” Nessa asked cautiously.

  Natalie smiled, and it lit up her entire face. “Trying to cook. And not well. We don’t even have the stove on, nor do we know where the olive oil is. We’re trying to learn.”

  Nessa turned and smiled at us. “That’s so sweet. You two are the worst cooks out of all of us. And that’s saying something since I’m not that great.”

  I scowled. “I’m not that bad.”

  “You are,” Nessa said as she came to stand between us. “Are you trying to mince garlic? It’s easier when you flatten it with the side of a knife first.”

  “That’s a big knife. What if I cut myself?” Natalie asked.

  I nodded. “Dillon showed me that once. I was pretty sure he was about to cut off his whole hand. He’s just so quick at it.”

  “A chef from a Michelin-starred kitchen taught him. He’s quick and efficient.” Nessa shook her head. “Do you want me to help you guys?”

  Natalie sighed. “I would say yes, but I know you have work to do. And this is what Miles and I are trying to learn. We need to be able to contribute to our community.”

  “Or get good at ordering in. Not that I have the funds for that.”

  Natalie shrugged. “I do. I am great at ordering in, and catering, and the perfect place setting. That’s what my family does, after all,” she mumbled. My eyebrows went up, but Nessa met my gaze and shook her head. So, we weren’t going to talk about that. “Anyway, we were trying to make chicken cacciatore. Or at least a version of it that I found on the internet. Only I’m pretty sure we’re only going to give everybody food poisoning if they eat the leftovers.”

  “I can help if you want,” Nessa said, and I looked between the two of them, wondering how I was supposed to deal with this. Every time Nessa entered the room, my cock got hard. It was a little difficult to concentrate and not cut off my fingers or burn myself while cooking, given my dick was so hard I could barely breathe or function.

  I’d reached a new low.

  “Nessa might be right. We might be the worst at this.”

  Natalie nodded. “Yes, so bad in fact, we can never let Dillon or Tanner know that I’m pretty sure I scalded a pot while boiling water.”

  “You did what?” Tanner asked.

  I turned. “How the hell did you get in here?” I inquired, frowning.

  “The back door was unlocked and open,” Tanner said, glaring at Natalie. “I thought you said you were going to keep everything locked.”

  My gaze shot between them, and Natalie raised her chin. “I thought I had. I didn’t realize it was open.” She paused, her expression falling. “It was open?”

  Tanner scowled. “The wind must have gotten it. I’ll work on the mechanism. I think it’s the lock’s issue, not yours.”

  “Look at that. Tanner saying that it couldn’t be my fault and that it could be something else,” Natalie singsonged as she went back to cooking.

  “Watch it,” he grumbled, met my gaze, and then lifted his chin before walking out the door.

  I met Nessa’s gaze. She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Okay, then.”

  “Why is Tanner here?” I asked slowly.

  “I have no idea,” Natalie said. “He texted earlier and said he was coming over to work on something around the house. Mostly because our landlord doesn’t do anything, and he’s handy.” She blushed. “You know what I mean. Not in that way. I don’t… We are not like that.”

  I met Nessa’s gaze again. “I believe that,” Nessa said, laughing. “Not with how the two of you never seem to get along.”

  “I was just telling Miles that we do get along. Though not always. Whatever. I suck at this.” She set down the knife. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She picked up her phone and stomped out of the kitchen, and I heard Tanner growling about something. She growled right back.

  Nessa walked to my side, her eyes even wider. “Is there so
mething going on?” she whispered.

  “Between Natalie and me? Hell, no.” I winced. “I mean…no. We’re just friends.”

  “That’s good. That’s what I assumed,” Nessa said slowly. “But I meant between Tanner and Natalie.”

  I shrugged, embarrassed. “I have no idea. I wouldn’t have thought so until just now. Wow.”

  “Exactly. Wow.” She swallowed hard and rocked back on her feet. “Anyway, do you want help cooking? I guess this is dinner? I mean...if I’m invited.”

  I looked around at the messy kitchen and the fact that we hadn’t even started cooking beyond the prep. “This was supposed to be dinner. Only I don’t even know when we’re going to be able to eat.”

  “Come on. I’ll help you.”

  I shook my head. “I thought you were working today.”

  “I was. I did my shift and then thought I would come home and try to get some work done. So, here I am. And I will. But let me help you cook first.”

  “You don’t have to. I can figure it out.”

  She raised a brow.

  “I can,” I growled.

  “I’m sure you can. Still, let me help you. I’m good at this. Decent, anyway. And I know this recipe.” Nessa tapped the screen. “Let me help you.”

  “I’d appreciate it. Are you going to need help with your homework? Anything I can do?”

  She straightened. “Actually, yes. I’m in a stupid statistics class, and it’s kicking my ass.”

  “Ah, that other class you kept putting off.”

  “Yes. I hate it. I vaguely remember when we were signing up, and you said you were decent at it.”

  “It’s not exactly my major, but I took the class. I can help if you want.”

  “I’d be grateful. I’d rather just keep writing.”

  “Writing? For work? School? Or the book you’re working on?”

  Her gaze shot to mine. “You know I’m writing a book?”

  I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Maybe.”

  “Miles,” she teased as she deftly minced the garlic and chopped the onion. How could someone do that so quickly?

  “I overheard you and the girls talking about it while working at my desk. The house is loud sometimes. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It just sort of happened.”

  “Serves me right for actually speaking it out loud in the living room rather than from behind a tightly closed door with a lock in a soundproof room.” She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Let me show you how to cut these tomatoes.”

  I tilted my head, studying her face. “Can’t you just buy the canned ones?”

  “Yes, but you didn’t. You bought tomatoes, meaning we’re going to have to cook them down. We can do this, Miles.”

  “Maybe I should have started with just mashed potatoes. Or steak. I can grill a steak.”

  “As can any guy I know, according to the laws of being a man or whatever other patriarchal society thing is out there.”

  “That was a nice segue,” I said, laughing.

  “I had a rough day. Too many customers searching through our books then going to their phone and ordering online from the big online store that will not be named.”

  I went still. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. And they didn’t even bother hiding it. They just buy their print books, not even ebooks, even though they’re holding the book in their hands. I don’t get it. However, there’s nothing I can do other than curse them behind their backs and maybe make a voodoo doll or something. You know, I’m not in the mood to do that.”

  “It seems like a lot of work and responsibility.”

  She grinned. “Exactly. Let’s get through this. While it simmers, we can work on statistics.”

  She turned, ran into my chest, and put her hands on my abs. I reached out to steady her, my hands on her hips, and did my best not to let them move around to cup her ass.

  She was just…right there, her breasts pressed against me. I nearly groaned.

  “Oh,” she whispered, swallowing hard.

  “Sorry. You okay?”

  “Yes, I think I am,” she breathed.

  My gaze moved to her lips, and I swallowed hard. I wanted to kiss her, wanted to do something. Instead, I just stood there. But I didn’t move back, didn’t do anything.

  She looked up at me, her mouth parted. It’d be so easy to lower my head and brush my lips across hers. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to ruin things. The problem was, I could so easily do that.

  “I shouldn’t do this,” she whispered, and I nodded before I pulled away, feeling cold at the sudden lack of her touch.

  She rubbed her palms on her thighs and swallowed hard. “I’m just…I don’t want to ruin what we have, Miles.”

  I met her gaze and nodded. “Same here. You’re my friend, Nessa. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t have a lot of those.”

  “You’re such a nice guy. I don’t know why you wouldn’t.”

  I cringed. “Not the nice-guy thing again.”

  “Nice guy as in a good person. Not the trademarked nice guy, who is an asshole. There’s a difference,” she said.

  “I like being a good person. I try to be, anyway.” Even though I hadn’t always been, and my mistake had ruined lives. But I wasn’t going to bring that up.

  “I don’t think I’m ready to make more mistakes than I already have.”

  “And kissing me would be a mistake,” I said bluntly.

  She bit her lip. “I think ruining our friendship would be a mistake. I like being your friend, Miles.”

  The thing was, I liked being her friend, too, so I nodded and picked up the box of pasta. “Are we supposed to salt the water?” I asked, and the relief on her face nearly undid me.

  Damn it, the more I told myself I didn’t want her, that I shouldn’t have her, the harder it was. Clearly, there was something between us. No matter what happened, it wouldn’t go anywhere. It couldn’t. We had just firmly put each other in our places. And we needed to stay there—even if it hurt.

  Chapter 7

  Nessa

  “Have you had time to finish your paper?” Everly asked as she shelved a few of the new releases.

  “Yes, but I’m probably going to spend the night when I get home going over it and making sure it’s ready to turn in. I swear, I miss so much reading over it only once or twice.”

  Everly gave me a small smile. “Considering how hard you worked on it, I’m sure you’ve already proofed it a few times.”

  I shrugged. “Yes, Natalie read over it, too. But you know me, I need to make sure it makes sense.”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “And, honestly, I’m not too worried about this class because I’m enjoying myself. The other one? Not so much.”

  “I thought you said that boy was helping you.”

  I blushed, shaking my head. “I don’t think he’s a boy if he’s nearly twenty-two.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m now in my thirties, and I feel like I’m aging with each passing day. At least, I’m going to keep telling myself I’m in my thirties, even though I may be in my forties now. I don’t remember, and I’m not going to try to do the math.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “If it helps, you don’t look a day over eighty-two.”

  She shoved my arm playfully and rolled her eyes. “You know, I was going to say that you were in the employee of the month running. But, sorry, I can’t do it now. You’ve ruined your chances.”

  “We don’t even have an employee of the month.”

  “You were going to be the first one. Then you called me old.”

  I winked. “You called yourself old first.”

  “True. I might have. Yet having someone else call me old means it’s time to start the firing.” She laughed as she said it, and I ducked my head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. My kids called me old the other day because I needed their help opening an app. An app. My generation invented them. And now it seems I’m ancient
and need to go sit in my rocker.”

  “You’re not an aging spinster, Everly.”

  “Some days, I feel like it. But back to what I was asking before. Is that hunky man of yours going to help you with statistics?” Sadly, she didn’t fall for my trick of trying to change the subject.

  “He’s not my man.”

  “And yet, he is hunky,” she said, waggling her brows. “And if he’s a man and not some eighteen-year-old, that means I can say that.”

  “Yes, he’s a man.”

  “From the way you said that, it sounds like you want him to be your man.”

  I shook my head as I opened another box of books. “I don’t want him to be mine. He’s my friend and lives with Pacey and the others. I’m not entertaining another crush on one of the guys who lives in that house.”

  Everly knew all about my crush on Pacey and my new one on Miles that I wouldn’t do anything about. While she was nowhere near old enough to be my mother, I had latched onto Everly when I lost my mom. Just enough that I didn’t feel so alone. I had people in my life who cared about me. Including my father. I needed to remember that.

  I pushed those thoughts from my mind and tried to remember what we had been talking about. “As for Miles, yes, he’s going to help me with my stats class. We’re studying tomorrow to go over my homework. I’m having trouble with a few things, and it probably doesn’t help that my mind goes in a thousand different directions sometimes.”

  “You have a job, a full course load, friends, and maybe, sometimes dating. It’s college. Of course, you’re tired. And you’re working on your final year. It’s a lot.”

  I shrugged. “And now I’m supposed to look at grad schools. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.” I hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud.

  “No? I thought that was the plan. What’s going on, Nessa?”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is. You’re talking about getting your master’s. And being a professor. And writing your book.”

  “That’s everything I’ve wanted to do since I was a little kid. And yet, it doesn’t seem feasible. It’s not going to pay my bills.”