Page 38 of The Love Playbook

Samantha is having dinner with James, and I know she’d cancel if I asked, but I’d hate to do that, especially when it means unloading on her and explaining the whole situation with my mother. Elizabeth has to work at the library tonight, and Brynn doesn’t have a car. Unless Jace is available, that leaves me to call an Uber and spend more money I don’t have.

“Looks like I’m on my own,” I grumble.

“Talking to yourself, Lettie?”

My stomach flips at the sound of the familiar baritone and instantly my heart rate spikes.

Placing a hand over the pounding in my chest, I spin around to find Chris grinning at me from the side of the education building. “Where the hell did you come from?” I ask. “The bushes?”

“Actually, I came from the other side of campus,” Chris says as he motions behind him, “but you were so deep in thought, you didn’t see me coming. Tea?” He reaches out, a paper to-go cup clutched in one giant hand.

I hesitate, staring at it like a bomb.

“Go on,” he says, giving the cup a little shake. “It’s some kind of fancy black tea, herbal blend with a splash of milk and tons of sugar since you’re an addict,” he says with a smirk.

“First of all, I’m not addicted to sugar.”Liar!

“And second of all?” He arches a brow.

I glance around me to see if he’s with anyone. “You got this for me? Like, on purpose?”

When I still don’t take the cup from him, he sighs and reaches out, opening my hand like a claw before he slides it inside my grip. “I did.”

“Why?” I ask, bringing it to my nose, inhaling like I’m some kind of sniffer dog that can sniff out poison.

All I smell is fruity floral deliciousness. “What did you do to it?”

Chris places a hand on his chest, feigning offense, and I try not to notice the way his pecs flex through his long-sleeve T-shirt.Damn football players. “What? I can’t do something nice for someone?”

“What do you want from me?” I narrow my eyes.

“Nothing.” He chuckles. “Do I have to want something in order to do something nice for you? What kind of men do you usually date?”

“We’re not dating.” I point with my cup.

“Yet.” He grins while my scowl grows.

“If you think tea will change my mind about our?”

“Let’s not talk about our folks for once, yeah?”

I shift on my feet, trying to discern his angle but come up empty when he sighs and says, “Fine. If I must give you a reason, I wanted to do something nice for you because you seemed stressed this week, and for me, coffee is a comfort thing. It always makes me feel better. So, I imagined a hot cup of tea might do the same for you.”

I grunt, because no one ever does nice things for me without expecting anything in return other than my girlfriends, and because he’s right. The hot cup warms my hands, and when I take a sip of the tea, it’s like a shot of liquid comfort. It’s perfect, and even if it is poisoned, the upside of dropping dead is I won’t have to go on this rescue mission to my mother’s house.

I take another sip at the thought, only partly disappointed I haven’t keeled over yet.

“Good, huh?”

“I can use the caffeine,” I answer.

“I’ll take that as athank-you.”

“Suit yourself.” I reposition my bag over my arm, wondering the best way to bail after he just did something nice for me and decide on the direct approach. “Listen, as much as I’d like to stand here chatting, I have somewhere to be.”

“Big test?” he asks, falling in step beside me as I start walking.

I shake my head. “Nope.”