I’d noticed the subtle changes in Dallas’s dress, the skirts getting slightly shorter, she wore more makeup, more perfume. She was desperately trying to get my attention and God help me she had all of it. We had come a long way as friends in such little time and much more. I had dragged her on a few double dates to try to change the dynamic that was slowly building between us to keep things friendly and less intimate, but it wasn’t working. I missed her when she was not around, and I rarely paid much attention to my date, watching her date like a hawk, though I had handpicked and threatened every single one.
I had been to her home often and somehow became an integrated part of her family. I entertained Rose and had even become chummy with her older brother, Paul. She had met my parents on numerous occasions and had even lived through the scrutiny of my mother, who now adored her and threatened my life if I so much touched a hair on her head.
As hard as I had tried to keep our relationship a friendship, I had failed. She was now a part of me.
There was no going back, and that was becoming clear with each day. I had to do the right thing, even if it meant hurting her.
Even if it hurt me.
I finished my meet and saw Dallas waiting at the bottom of the stands. I groaned when I took in her tiny shorts and snug shirt. I glanced at Lindsey, who had her hand up to her ear in a ‘call me’ gesture. I nodded and approached Dallas with caution.
“Hi.” She greeted me with a breathtaking smile.
God, you are beautiful.
“Hi,” I said back, hoping she couldn’t hear my inner musing.
“Good meet. I would congratulate you, but half the women here fainted when you took your shirt off. I think that’s enough of an ego boost for one day,” she joked. She lifted her hand as if to run fingers through my hair, but I stopped her quickly.
“Dallas, where are your clothes?” I snapped as I took a step back. She gaped at me, clearly shocked by her reception. I saw her embarrassment turn to anger as a few onlookers snickered at her discomfort.
“What the hell is your problem, Martin?” I knew the question didn’t just have to do with today. I had been returning less of her calls and spending a little less time with her. She was an extremely smart girl and if for one second I thought I could tell her I returned her feelings without the result being that she tried harder, I would.
I didn’t want to take that chance. I knew I would give in to the physical, even if the gentlemen I wanted to be couldn’t live with that. She already held a coveted place in my heart. She wouldn’t be just another girl.
Not to mention, it was totally fucking illegal. And those were the kind of charges that stuck, that stifle a medical career.
She was still looking at me when I realized I hadn’t answered her.
“Nothing, I don’t have a problem,” I barked back. “I just didn’t expect you to greet me in your underwear.”
She pushed past me in a huff, stomping off toward the parking lot.
“Dallas,” I called after her, apology clear in my voice.
“Bite me, Martin,” she said, pulling out her cell to text someone.
“You need a ride?” I said, quickly catching up with her. I grabbed her arm and turned her to face me and saw her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.
I was the worst human alive.
“I’m sorry,” I said instantly. I had never seen Dallas’s resolve waver in the six months I had known her. The guilt I felt in that moment left a large lump in my throat. She looked at her flip-flops, refusing to meet my eyes. I grasped her chin and she took it away with a quick turn of her head. She took deep breaths to calm herself.
“I just won’t come anymore,” she whispered.
“No, Dallas, it’s not that,” I offered. But what the hell could I say? I needed her to stay away. I needed to get her out of my head.
“It’s fine.” She looked up as tears disbursed down her cheeks. “I am weird. I am. And you know that about me. No one else does. I thought we got along. I thought we—”
“You’re perfect,” I interrupted. Only a step closer and I would have her in my arms. I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “We do get along, Dallas,” I offered, fisting my hands in effort to keep from pulling her to me. She glared at me.
“No, you and girls like Lindsey do. I’m just…me.” She looked past me and I noticed her mother’s SUV pulling up. “Bye,” she rasped out, wiping her face before making quick strides to the truck and jumping in.
“Mom, don’t.” I heard her hiss her protest as the passenger window rolled down. Dallas sank in her seat, clearly embarrassed. I felt for her. My mother was just as intrusive.
“Hi, Dean,” she chimed. “Did he win?” she tried to ask Dallas discreetly. She sat with her arms crossed, giving her mother a murderous stare.
“I did,” I answered for her, leaning into Dallas’s window. She flinched as I inched near her and I shared a knowing smile with her mother, Laura. Dallas was anything but forgiving when she was mad.