The Jock Script (The Script Club 3)

“Um…I don’t know.”

“Come on,” he cajoled. “How about…Hawaii, San Francisco, New York City, Paris, London? Do any of those sound good?”

The smile in his voice made my pulse skitter. Ugh. Be strong. Do not crush on your friend.

“They all sound good. Except Hawaii.”

“This should be good,” Blake teased. “What’s wrong with Hawaii?”

“Nothing at all, but I’m very pale and I tend to burn easily.”

“A big umbrella and a ton of sunscreen would solve that problem. And a hat.”

“What kind of hat?”

“A baseball cap or a straw hat. You choose.”

“I’d like a huge wicker hat with a very wide brim or—are you laughing at me?”

Blake chuckled. “No, no. I’m laughing with you. You’re funny, and you’re much better at silly than you thought.”

I grinned, inordinately pleased at the compliment. “Thanks, I think. Where would you go on your dream vacation?”

“Let me think.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Fiji, Bora Bora, Bali…”

I turned off my bedside lamp, then slipped under the covers with a smile on my face as he regaled me with his list of fantasy island destinations. The conversation drifted to things to do on these island adventures, and somehow I found myself talking about hiking and cycling—activities I would never do in places I had no intention of visiting…with just six hours until my alarm rang.

As the minutes ticked by, I let his deep timbre pull me under. I stopped thinking logically and let my mind wander wherever he led. Maybe it was unwise, but it felt extraordinarily sweet, too.

So sweet that we did it again the next night and the one after that.

Our discussions were a whimsical mix of current events, dinner menus, and a daily highlight from work or school. I told him about the experiment tracking seismic waves on Mars and the TA who showed up with a hangover to my cosmic studies class. Blake shared funny stories about the kid who stared at his crush during algebra but wouldn’t speak to her when they were paired for a project. He talked about the game on Wednesday and invited me to come. So I did.

I sat with the helicopter moms, shared almonds, and pretended that I wasn’t completely smitten by the hunky man coaching their daughters from the sidelines. I cheered along with everyone else in my newly purchased black button-down shirt. I wasn’t going to hang around afterward, but Blake called me over and introduced me to his assistant, Shana, and a few of the girls before walking me to my car and inviting me to the next game.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I have a compulsory lab at school, and I’d never make it in time with Monday traffic,” I said, raking my teeth over my bottom lip.

“No worries.” Blake hiked his bag higher on his shoulder and waved to one of his players and stepped aside. “I’m hungry. Wanna grab dinner? There’s a new bistro on Lake I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Um…” I pushed my glasses higher on my nose and nodded. “Yes. Okay.”

He flashed a megawatt grin, gave me directions, and told me to meet him there.

We chose a table for two on the sidewalk under a bright yellow awning, ordered turkey burgers and sweet potato fries, and enjoyed the mild mid-May evening, people-watching as we engaged in our usual mix of robust and ridiculous conversation. It was so…easy to be with him.

Maybe too easy. I forgot to check the time or remind myself that this was part of a script written by yours truly. We’d agreed to become friends, and that was exactly what we’d done.

We were friends.

But then he kissed me.

Don’t get excited. It was a quick peck. Nothing sexy. The delivery, however, was so romantic, I couldn’t help spinning over it.

Here’s what happened: After dinner, he walked me to my car, waited for me to open it, then he kissed my cheek. No kidding, I almost swooned.

I leaned forward, hoping he’d meet me halfway and put me out of my misery. I didn’t want a peck. I wanted tongue. I wanted rough sex in the backseat of his SUV. I wanted to suck face like horny teenagers with twisting tongues and greedy groping. I wanted a frenzied make-out session with his hands all over me. I wanted—

Blake caught my wrist when I nearly stumbled against his chest, and he kissed my knuckles. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

I stared after him like a lovesick dork as he walked to his SUV, unsure if I should laugh or cry. I’d grossly underestimated my attraction and overestimated my willpower. In other words, I’d screwed up. Big-time. I was now head over heels attracted and infatuated with my new friend.

Congratulations, Asher.

This wasn’t good.

At all.

I knew he was attracted to me, but I had a strong feeling he’d purposely left the ball in my court…as sporty people say. Blake was in the closet. If we became lovers, I’d be signing on for a friends-with-benefits arrangement. He didn’t want to mislead me. He didn’t want to be dishonest.