Summer Fling (Players of Marycliff University Book 1) (2 page)

"Okay. Be back in a sec." He got out of the car, and only hit two of the three steps to get to the front door.
 

Abby looked around the interior of the car now that she had nothing else to distract her. It was surprisingly comfortable and clean compared to the run down look of the paint job. The tan vinyl was torn in a couple places, but there wasn't any clutter or trash lurking in the corners or on the floor.
 

Lance came back out a few minutes later. He had changed into a clean t-shirt, and he carried another shirt in his hand. He slid into the car and put the extra shirt on the bench seat next to him. He turned his body so he was facing Abby.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go hang out somewhere. I brought an extra shirt for you in case you said yes."

"Where would we go?" Her tone of voice betrayed her surprise, but she was curious, too.
 

"Wherever. We could go get dessert somewhere or something. I'm not ready to be home for the night."

"You could just drop me off at home and go back to the party." Abby felt compelled to point that out.

Lance nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess. That party was kind of lame, though. I was looking for an excuse to leave when you crashed into me."

Abby reached out and picked up the shirt. Staring at it in her lap, she fingered the soft blue fabric while she considered her answer. Did she want to go out with this guy she'd just met? Or would she rather go home? Since Megan was still at the party, she'd have the apartment to herself.
 

"You could just take me home and let me change into one of my own shirts and then we could go out." She looked at his face, gauging his reaction.

Lance was still facing her, his eyes locked with hers. He smiled a little. "I could." He drew the words out. "But then you might overthink it and tell me no. This way you can just change and we could go. Plus, there's a 24-hour diner with great pie not far from here, and I'm hungry now. It would take too long to take you home first."

Abby thought about it for another minute. "Can I at least change inside? I don't make it a habit to flash guys I've just met."
Even though you've pretty much seen it all already
. She stopped herself before she said the last part out loud.

Lance opened his mouth like he was about to say something, a mischievous look on his face. Then he seemed to think better of it, his expression clearing. "Sure. Come on."

Abby followed him up the front steps, his pace less hurried than the first time. The front door opened into the living room. College guys definitely lived here. It was comfortable enough, but mostly utilitarian, with no concern for décor. A large flat screen TV dominated the wall to the right, with wires, gaming consoles, and controllers in a jumble around the small entertainment center. Battered and mismatched furniture completed the room, looking like hand me downs or thrift store finds. There were no pictures on the walls, and the curtains covering the large bay window had probably come with the house, or were hand me downs from someone's mom.
 

Lance opened a door to the left of the TV. "This is my room." He reached in and turned on the light. "You can change in here."
 

"Okay. Thanks."

The comfortable and utilitarian theme extended into the bedroom, with a queen sized bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a bookshelf crammed with books the only furniture. Discarded clothes littered the floor between the bed and the door to the bathroom
 

Abby went into the small bathroom. It was surprisingly clean from what she knew of college guys' bathrooms. No globs of toothpaste left in the sink, and only a few items on the small counter—hand soap, deodorant, shaving cream, after shave lotion, and a razor. The soap sat on the edge of the sink, the other items clustered neatly in the corner next to the wall.

Abby stripped off her tank top, dropping it on the floor. She grabbed a washcloth from a pile of mismatched towels under the sink, got a corner of it wet, and wiped up the soda that had seeped through her shirt. She slipped Lance's t-shirt on and looked at herself in the mirror.
 

She snorted when she saw the Superman logo in the middle of her chest. Well, somewhat below the middle of her chest, because the shirt swallowed her. The shoulder seams came almost halfway down her upper arms, and the shirt covered her shorts.
 

She tried pulling the shirt tight around her torso, twisting the extra fabric behind her, and tucking it in at the small of her back. She'd seen other girls do that and look cute. On her, she thought it just looked silly. She fidgeted with the shirt some more, folding here, tucking there, trying different things to make it so she didn't look like a toddler wearing her dad's clothes. With a huff of annoyance, she gave up and let the shirt hang loose.
 

"It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone." Abby reached up and redid her ponytail. "I've already dumped soda over both of us and treated the guy to a personal wet t-shirt contest. Worrying about making a good impression on the hot guy sort of went out the window already."

With that little pep talk, Abby went back out. Lance looked up from his phone and smiled at her. He stood up from the couch. "Ready?"

"Sure."

Lance opened the door and gestured Abby through, locking it behind him. He jogged a little to catch up to her so he could open the door to his car before she got in.

Abby gave him a confused look. What was with this guy and his insistence on opening doors? She'd agreed to get dessert with him, but it wasn't like this was a date. He was just bored and didn't want to be home yet. That's what he'd said. That didn't make this a date, right?

CHAPTER TWO

Lance wasn't sure why he'd bullied the girl into wearing his shirt instead of just taking her home.
 

Well, yes he was. He didn't want to just take her home and drop her off. The way she called him out on his manners and didn't take any bullshit piqued his curiosity. And he was afraid that if he even took her back to her place for a clean shirt she'd change her mind.
 

He was being truthful when he said he'd been thinking of leaving the party when she showed up. But he'd been thinking how nice it would be to just go home and hang out by himself for a while. Until Abby crashed into him and spilled soda all over his shirt. He'd liked the feel of her body crushed against his. Until the sticky cold feeling had seeped in. That was kind of a mood killer.
 

When she said she needed to find a way home, he'd seen an opportunity and taken it.
 

And, damn, but there's something about a hot chick wearing your shirt that was just sexy. He didn't really understand it, but he liked that Abby was wearing his Superman t-shirt. He'd almost put it on, then on impulse decided to bring it out for her and grabbed a different shirt.
 

He was kind of hungry, so the dessert thing wasn't entirely an excuse. But now he wasn't just hungry for pie. He was hungry for her.
 

He wanted to get to know her. Get the chance to feel her against him again. See if he could rile her up some more and see what happened. See what would happen if—

No. He had to stop that train of thought before his feelings became more
obvious
. She seemed like a no-nonsense kind of girl from their interactions at the party, but she wasn't too sure of him. She kept shrugging him off when he touched her and maintained as much distance between them as she could without being rude. Even now she was sitting close to the passenger door. He clenched his hands around the steering wheel to keep himself from touching her again, just to see how she'd react. He didn't want to scare her off.
 

Lance glanced at her out of the corner of his eye while driving to the diner. She looked wistful, almost sad, with her arm resting on the window ledge propping up her head, and the wind whipping the little hairs around her face.
 

He cleared his throat. "So, what's your major?"

Abby turned to look at him, her hand falling to join the other one in her lap. "Spanish. You?"

"I just graduated. I got my degree in Marketing."
 

"Congratulations. So are you job hunting now?"

Lance shook his head. "No. I have an internship for the summer, and my dad expects me to come take over the family business when that's done."

"The family business, huh? That sounds like you're in the mafia or something."

He laughed at that. He was right about her. She was a spitfire and he liked her sense of humor. "No, not the mafia. Just a mechanic shop."

"You have a degree in marketing and you're supposed to go be a mechanic?" The surprise was evident in her voice.

Lance grimaced. "Yeah. Every business needs marketing." That's what he'd told his dad to convince him that going to college was a good idea. He was supposed to go to work as a mechanic straight out of high school, but with his mom's help convinced his dad that college would be good for him, good for the business.
 

He steered the conversation back to her, not wanting to talk about what was waiting for him at the end of his internship. "What about you? What are you going to do with a Spanish degree?"

Abby shrugged and looked out the window again. He wished she would keep looking at him. How was he going to get anywhere with her if he couldn't even hold her attention? "I don't know. Travel, maybe. There's lots of things where speaking two languages can help. I haven't decided yet."

"I'm not sure how well traveling pays, but that sounds like fun."
 

Abby flashed him a quick grin. Good. He liked seeing her smile and smiled back. "You know, that's the first time you've smiled at me tonight. I'm not used to having to work this hard to get a smile out of a girl."

Her smile faded. "Sorry not to meet your smiling standards."

Her voice was sharp, and Lance backpedaled as quick as he could. "No! That's not what I meant. It's just–"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I get it. Girls probably fall all over themselves trying to get your attention, smiling and giggling like idiots. You're not used to a girl acting normal. Or whatever." She turned back to the window again.

Lance took a deep breath and decided to try again. How could he be messing this up already? "All I meant was that I like your smile. I like seeing you smile."
 

No response. Shit.
 

One corner of his mouth turned up as he thought more about what she'd said. "Why do you think girls fall all over themselves to get my attention?"

She looked at him finally—a pointed look followed by an eye roll before she looked away again.
 

The other corner of Lance's mouth followed the first, his smirk turning into a full blown smile. "Are you trying to tell me I'm attractive?"
 

Abby didn't say anything. She didn't even look at him.

"Well?" he pushed.
 

She turned and rolled her eyes at him again. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Let what go?" His voice was dripping with mock innocence. "You mean that you think I'm hot?"

"I'm sure plenty of girls think you're hot." Her voice was condescending, almost like it should have been followed by a pat on the head.
 

Lance decided to ignore the tone and focus on the words. "Plenty of girls like you?"

He could see her eyes raking over him, checking him out. "You're alright I guess."

"Just alright, huh?" He flexed his arms as he gripped the steering wheel. He knew he was better looking than just alright. Abby's eyes widened as his biceps bulged against his t-shirt, then she looked away. Lance smiled even wider, not even minding that she was looking away again. He decided to stop antagonizing her about that. For now.

He turned the wheel smoothly, pulling into the diner's parking lot and parking in a spot near the door. At almost eleven on a Saturday night, it was pretty empty. Lance held open the door to the diner for Abby, enjoying once again the way his shirt looked on her.
 

Inside the diner was as empty as the parking lot, with only a few tables occupied. The waitress seated them in a booth next to a window, dropped off their menus, and walked away with barely a greeting.

Abby watched the waitress's retreating back. "Such friendly service."

Lance's eyes followed her gaze. "The food's good. This place is packed during breakfast and lunch. I'm actually surprised there aren't more people here. It's early, though. They'll get the drunk party goers closer to two probably."

Abby laughed. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to eleven at night as early before." Lance liked her laugh as much as her smile. He decided not to comment on it, and just smiled back.

The waitress came back and set two glasses of water on the table in front of them. "You ready to order?" She popped her gum and tapped her pen on the order pad.

Abby folded her menu and slid it to the edge of the table. "I'll have the chocolate silk pie."

"And I'll have the pecan." Lance laid his menu on top of Abby's. The waitress scribbled down their order, took the menus, and sauntered off.

Lance returned his attention to Abby, leaning forward on his arms and keeping his legs under his chair. For now. "Since you didn't seem too concerned about your future job prospects, I'm going to guess you're not a senior yet."

Abby took a drink of her water before answering. "Not yet."
 

The glint of mischief in her blue eyes gave away that she knew what he really wanted to know, but wanted him to work for it. Lance didn't normally have to work this hard to get a girl to talk about herself. She had been right that girls usually smiled and giggled and told him way more than he ever asked or volunteered. But he found himself being the one doing the smiling and the laughing and the volunteering of information. How did she do that to him?