Page 45 of Relationship Goals

“You’ve known him longer than I have. Does he seem like a gentleman to you?”

“He’s always seemed like a fucking asshole to me. Blunt, straightforward, and you know where you stand with him. He doesn’t put up with bullshit or internal politics.”

“So why don’t I know where I stand with him?”

“He’s also an athlete with a game tomorrow night, and these guys, all of them”—her mouth twists to the side, and her gaze skips to the ceiling—“well, almost all of them—they’re single-minded. It’s how they made it to this level. Give him a few days. I guarantee you’ll know where you stand by then.”

“Dating sucks,” I say grumpily, shoving the rest of the sourdough into my mouth.

“Agreed. Now, what do you want to know about soccer and myjob? Anything I can answer for you before I have to get back to the office?” She sits back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Unless you don’t want to talk about work. At this point, I don’t, either.”

I squint at her, wondering if it’s too soon to dig into what she doesn’t like about her job, trying to read the situation. I don’t want to pester her, and considering I’ve just dumped all my immediate relationship stress in her lap, I probably should back the hell off and at least make an attempt at being professional.

I take out my phone and pull up my Notes app. “I actually had some questions I wanted to ask. Just a few things to get me on the right track before table reads next week.”

“Table reads?” she echoes.

“Yeah, it’s the first time the cast gets together to read the script as a group. It’s a whole thing.” I wave a hand dismissively, but I’m grinning like an idiot because I love table reads. They’re fun, and this is going to be a big film. “I’m excited,” I tack on, just in case she can’t figure that out.

“Oh, that does sound fun.”

“All right, first question. Whatdoesthe director of football operations actually do?”

Michelle snort-laughs again before she starts to explain her job.

Our food arrives, and as we eat, I make my way through my list of questions, taking notes while she answers, thoroughly and thoughtfully.

I can’t stop checking to see if I have any messages from a certain Wolfe.

When none appear, though, I try to take heart in Michelle’s words.

He’s an athlete, and he’s in game-time mode or whatever.

I can be patient.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Michelle says as we pay the check.

“Hmm?” I ask, signing carefully.

“At the game. You’re coming to the game, right?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it.” I don’t know why I hadn’t, probably because I’ve hyperfixated on not knowing where I stand with Luke.

“I’m sure you have plans, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“No, I don’t, actually. I planned to reread the script and prep for next week’s table read.”

“Oh, that’s more important—”

“No.” I grin at her. “A night watching soccer sounds perfect. It’s research, right?”

“Research,” she agrees, returning the smile. “We’ll have fun, and I can explain how the game works while you watch.”

Neither one of us mention the fact I’ll be watching Luke and totally preoccupied with more than just the rules of the game.

Chapter Eleven

Luke