The Lessons (18 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Brown

BOOK: The Lessons
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He pushed his hands into his pockets and grinned at me. “You think I have sexy hair?”

For a moment, my stomach flips and I allow myself the luxury of thinking that maybe he’s into me, but then my breath left me in a rush because suddenly, the reality of the situation sets in. My situation. Our situation. Everything we have, all of it— it’s based on my lie. My stomach sinks just as quickly as it had risen and he registers the change on my face.

“Natalie?” he asked, cocking his head at me. “You feeling alright? Do you need more water?”

“Sorry, yes, no, I’m fine. Oh, did you hear his news? Brad’s, I mean.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “No— what?”

I swallowed and rubbed my forehead. “He just told me he got a job with MM Social.”

“Oh, wow.” He removed one hand from his pocket and rubbed his jaw. “He got it? That’s great. He’s always wanted to work for them.”

I nodded back, my brain awash with all kinds of emotions and things I just wasn’t quite sure how to deal with. Crap. I even entertained the idea of telling him the truth for a moment—but what was the truth? That I found him sexy and charming and that I couldn’t stop thinking about him? Yes. Maybe the direct approach was best. He wanted honesty, so maybe I should just give it to him. I rubbed my hands together but Ryan started talking before I could get anything out.

“Do you want something to eat? I can make us some omelets.”

My stomach roared at the suggestion. I smiled meekly, embarrassed.

“I guess that’s a yes?”

“Ha, yeah. Sounds great.”

We wandered out to the kitchen, and he set about gathering his supplies while I sat at the breakfast bar, admiring how his jeans hung on his hips. He turned his back to me and started slicing some mushrooms and I was treated to a view of his broad shoulders and how they narrowed down to his waist.

“Thanks for picking me up last night,” I started.

Ryan barely reacted. “Don’t mention it.”

Awkward pause.

“You know, I ran in to your sister the other day.”

He stopped chopping for a second. “You did?”

“Yeah, at the library.”

He resumed chopping. “Oh, yeah, she works there.”

“So I learned. She’s an interesting kid.”

Ryan turned around and looked thoughtful. “She is. She’s had a tough life.”

“You mean because of what happened with your parents?”

Ryan nodded as he chopped. “Yeah, but as much as I want to blame it on my dad, it didn’t even end after the asshole died. Up until then, she’d done a pretty good job hiding things from the kids at school. But then when, you know,” he made a little circle with his knife, “shit went down, the kids at school— they became nasty. Really nasty. I wanted to protect her, but I was away at college for a lot of it. I hated it.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “So, sorry if she was a little odd when you saw her. She suffers from depression and she’s been in and out of treatment for years.” He paused and added some butter to a pan. “I thought we’d made a breakthrough with this new trial med last year, but the effects only lasted a couple of months and then she spiraled back down.”

“She seemed okay at the library,” I tried to offer.

“That’s good, that’s really good. Working is a positive thing for her. She has good days and not so good days.”

He gathered the mushrooms in his hands and put them into a pan with butter and I tried to change the subject.

“So… I saw your trophies. How long did you play soccer?”

He retrieved some eggs from the fridge.

“Oh, it feels like forever. Since I was five, I think? I was on scholarship at Brown,” he offered.

“So you still play?”

“I gave up the competitive world when I transferred to UCB after my mom died…”

“Oh, sorry.” Thwarted again. Family tragedy 2, Natalie 0. I was starting to feel like a real asshole.

Ryan didn’t seem too phased, though. “But yeah, I still play a few times a month with a pickup team in Golden Gate Park.” He paused. “You should come by sometime and check it out.”

I stiffened. Wait, did he just invite me to watch him play soccer? Like, outside of an appointment? Okay, call me crazy, but even I knew that had to be against the rules. I slowly counted the seconds, waiting for him to back out once he’d realized his error.

“I mean, since you are new in town. I could introduce you to some of the guys, and a few of them have girlfriends who will be there.” I glanced up at him as he poured in the eggs, our eyes meeting as the pan cracked and sizzled.

“Um, yeah, that sounds fun. I mean, I guess you’re right. I do need to meet more people.”

I felt my vagina glare at me.

“We’re playing tomorrow evening. Why don’t you swing by around six?” he said, sliding a perfect omelet onto a plate and setting it in front of me.

“Um, yeah,” I said picking up my fork and trying to sound nonchalant, “Sounds great.”

~

I left work at five thirty on the dot the next day. I had been using too much sick time for appointments and couldn’t possibly claim another.

Even though I did have another appointment. Sorta.

An appointment with
destiny!

Oh, Jesus Christ, Natalie. Get ahold of yourself!

Sad, right?

As I got ready, the butterflies were once again knocking around in my stomach like big lead balloons, except this time it wasn’t because I was nervous about having sex. It was because I was excited to see Ryan.

There, I said it. I was excited to see Ryan. Because I
liked
him. I blushed as I applied the last of my mascara, feeling like a fucking schoolgirl.

I took a cab to the soccer field because it was my first time going to Golden Gate Park and well, I also didn’t have a car. I took in the lush scenery as the driver sped past the outer edge of the park before making a left at the beach, finally coming to a stop in a parking lot outside the fields. I paid him and stepped out of the cab, the salty air from the Pacific Ocean helping to calm my nerves.

Was I really doing this? Was I really showing up at Ryan’s game, like a teenage girl showing up at her boyfriends… well, soccer practice?

I was.

I wandered over to the edge of the fields, searching for that swath of dark hair. I passed through the gate and slowly made my way around the field, staring out into the groups of people. There were several teams playing, and I scanned the crowd, wondering how I’d ever find him.

“Reese!” A voice called out.

I whipped around, and sure enough, Ryan was jogging up to me.

And if I had been holding books, I would have dropped them all. Again.

Because He. Looked. Delicious.

I hadn’t accounted for him being in his soccer uniform. Or outfit. Or whatever you called the sexy shirtless-ness that was now in front of me. He was sweaty, glistening, tan, and toned and—my God—with those tattoos he looked like David fucking Beckham.

David
fucking
Beckham, ladies.

Swoon, thy name is Ryan Andrews. I thought I was going to pass out right there.

“You came!” he said, slowing to a walk as he saddled up to me, grinning.

Uh, yes, right in my pants. Right now. Practically.

“I said I would,” I responded, trying to smile, “I hope it’s still okay? I mean, I can go.”

“No way, stay, please. I asked you to come. We’re almost done and we’re going to get a beer after. You should come with us. I can introduce you to the guys.”

I nodded, unable to speak, as my mind apparently had turned to mashed potatoes. He showed me to the bleachers, and I made small talk with his teammates wife while he finished up on the field. Regina was sweet and friendly, and she had a cute little baby with her. But I wasn’t really paying attention to the baby, because holy mother of Moses, remember how I thought Ryan was fairly athletic? Well, I was wrong. He was
incredibly
athletic. Clearly the star player on the team, any time one of the other players got in trouble, they passed the ball to him. It was an incredible turn on to see him concentrating so hard and maneuvering the ball with such skill, I found myself pressing my thighs together, looking for some relief to the ache that was growing between my legs. I wasn’t sure what the score was—there wasn’t a scoreboard—but Ryan managed to get the ball in the goal-thing twice, and by the time the game ended, the other team looked torn up and exhausted.

After they shook hands, I followed Regina and slowly made my way over to the group. I stood a few feet away, not wanting to intrude, but Ryan spotted me as he pulled on his shirt.

“Hey, guys, I want you to meet someone,” he said, pulling me over by my hand.

What the? Oh…

“Guys, this is Natalie, Natalie, these are the guys,” he said gesturing to the group. A very good-looking group of sweaty men. “Rice, Tommy, Mark, Pitch, Eric, Marcus, J.T, Charlie and Lambo.”

“Lambo?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“Long story.”

“To go with my long—”

“Lam—” Ryan warned, his eyebrow raising. Lambo put both his hands up and backed off.

Ryan turned to me. “Still up for that beer?” he smiled widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Yeah,” I said, weak in the knees.

Like a fucking schoolgirl.

 

Ryan’s friends were awesome. Like, really funny in a bro-y kind of way. After the game, Ryan changed into striped track pants and a hoodie and we hit up a nearby bar. We were all gathered around a picnic table on the back patio as the sun set, and I was sitting next to Ryan on a bench seat. We were close. I mean, our arms and legs were touching. Not just a little, but like, fully-pressed-up-against-each other touching. It may have been because we were trying to fit twelve people around a small table, but I didn’t see any of the
guys
touching. And despite having perspired for the last few hours, Ryan smelled good. I kept angling my nose toward him with every other inhale, trying to secretly inhale his scent.

At one point, Regina’s baby started to fuss and Ryan offered to take it for her.

“You need a break,” he said getting up and rounding the table. I was sad to have our connection broken, but a moment later, I was rewarded. Seeing that man hold a baby, well, shit. I think my ovaries were gonna explode.

“Thank you
Ryan
. What a
gentleman
.” Regina said, as she stared at Rice.

“Oh, don’t act like I don’t help, Reg,” he countered. “I’m just letting you get your time in now, because once she’s walking, I’ll be training her on the field 24/7.”

Ryan came over and sat down next to me. I looked down at the little girl—she wasn’t fussing anymore and her big eyes were focused on me.

“She’s beautiful.” I said as I offered my pinkie finger to her and she wrapped her hand around it. “Hey, baby girl.”

“I think she likes you,” he said softly.

I looked up at him and our eyes met.

Yep. Snap, crackle and pop went the ovaries.

 

Later that evening, the guys started filling me in on what I’d missed during the earlier part of the game.

“And then he kicked it from mid-field, and the fucking goalie didn’t even move. Like, he didn’t even have time to react. It was a fucking slaughter!” Lambo exclaimed, retelling the highlights of the game to me as we drank our beers.

“Dang, really? I wish I’d seen it.”

Eric cut in, unimpressed. “Eh, just swing by again next week.”

“Yeah, true. He’s pretty much like that every week.” Lambo agreed. “The other teams call him Wrecking Ball.”

I turned to Ryan and gave him a half smile. “Oh yeah?”

He leaned back, momentarily breaking the connection between our arms. He looked relaxed and just shrugged. “Winning is a team effort.”

He was very cute when he was relaxed.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Eric cut back in.

I froze.

“At the library,” we both replied in unison.

“Library, huh?” Marcus looked at me and then back at Ryan. “Hmm. I guess I need to start reading.” He stood up “I’m gonna get another beer. Anyone want one?”

Most of the hands shot up, except for Ryan’s and mine. He leaned into me and asked, “Did you drive?”

I shook my head. “Cab.”

“Need a ride home?”             

My core clenched, and I grew warm as his velvety suggestion cut off the oxygen to my brain.

YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES

“Sure,” I breathed, so no one but him could hear.

He smiled and leaned forward, his body finding itself against mine again.

“So, speaking of libraries, how’s Ains?” Lambo continued.

Ryan spun his empty glass around in his hands before answering. “She’s good. Better.”

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