Page 32 of Good Girl’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #4)

ainsley

For the most part, I love who I am as a person. I love my empathy and the way I can find good in most situations. I love my job and helping people. I have good friends, am a good sister, and being an aunt is the best title in the world.

But I hate—no, loathe—that I’m an overthinker.

It’s the actual worst.

Because tell me why, I, a fully capable and grown woman, is sitting her in apartment, alone, staring at her phone, wondering if she should text the man she’s apparently dating.

I mean, I can, can’t I? He made sure to give me his number earlier today when we were at breakfast. When we said our goodbyes, he told me that we’d talk soon to figure out our next steps.

But did that mean he would reach out to me?

Me reach out to him? I’m not exactly sure what I would say, but I have questions that we didn’t get to today due to my siblings interrupting us in the worst game of ninja spies ever.

First: How long am I going to be the girlfriend of Linc Kincaid? Are we talking weeks? Months? Years? What have I signed up for?

Oh, and the question of sleepovers. Likes does he expect things to happen?

I don’t feel like he does. I stayed at his house last night, and he put me in his bed and slept on an uncomfortable recliner when I was there for the vulnerable taking.

But I’m not, as my sisters say, experienced.

I’ve slept with two guys in my life, and both of those were very forgettable.

Or really, unforgettable, because of how bad they were.

At least, I don’t think they were good? I don’t have anything to compare it to. I just know if that was good, then I have no idea what my sisters talk about or what I read about in romance novels.

I want to talk to him about these things, but if I text him, am I weird? Clingy? I don’t want to be a stage-five clinger, but I’m starting to feel like a stage five crazy person.

Just as I’m about to toss my phone down on the couch to get it out of sight, I feel the vibration in my hand of a text coming through.

Boyfriend

Hey, I need your help with something.

I read it a few times. And yup…he did that.

Ainsley

Did you put your name in my phone as boyfriend?

Of course. That’s what I am, aren’t I?

I feel my smile coming on, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Especially because it’s accompanied by little butterflies in my stomach.

This isn’t real, Ainsley. He’s not really your boyfriend. He’s just playing into the part. Don’t get giddy.

Okay, *boyfriend*. What can I help with?

I need a new show to watch, and I can’t decide.

I can’t help but laugh as I snuggle into my couch.

And you’re asking me? I wasn’t lying today when I said that I’m the queen of decision paralysis. I’ve been wanting to text you for an hour but talked myself out of it because I couldn’t decide to do it.

An hour?

Yes, but let’s not focus on that. Back to your problem.

You can text me whenever you’d like. Please don’t overthink that.

But I really need help. I have nothing to watch, and Wyatt is no help. Maddox will suggest a freaking British baking show or some shit like that.

Oh, I love those! They’re so competitive but so nice at the same time.

Come on, Ainsley Mae…not you too…

I’m just saying, they’re delightful. Especially at Christmas.

You’re not helping.

Okay, let’s find you something. What do you like to watch? Is there something you’re in the mood for?

Comedy? No…thriller. Maybe a cop drama? I don’t know.

All I know is that it’s football season and I want something to occupy my mind when I’m not at practice or studying plays, because I don’t want to get the itch to go make stupid decisions.

And there are going to be times when you’re working, so I need something to fill my time.

So if I have something addicting, I’m more likely to stay home. Does that make sense?

Totally. But, I hate to tell you this, I’m no help in those genres.

The shows that I tend to watch are more on the romantic side.

I’m actually doing a rewatch now of my favorite hospital drama of all time.

Totally addicting. There’s drama and blood, but also love and scandal.

Really, something for everyone. And it’s been going on for like twenty years, so there’s plenty to binge.

Would totally get you through a football season.

You lost me at love.

My heart sinks a little at that. Though it shouldn’t. Linc has been up front that he’s not a love, or forever, or a commitment guy. In fact, I should save a screenshot of this text to remind me of that when I start feeling those stupid butterflies.

Suit yourself. But I think if you want an addicting show, that’s your bet.

I’ll keep scrolling.

Fair. Do you want to know the name of it, just in case?

I’m good, thanks. Maybe I’ll try a baking show…

I smile and almost put my phone down, but I don’t. I need to ask him at least one of the questions. He said I could, plus he opened the texting door. No need to overthink this.

I audibly laugh at that thought. Because yeah, right. That’ll be the day…

While you’re deciding, can I ask you a question?

Of course.

I know we talked about some logistics today, but…I feel like we need to cover a few more things.

Such as?

I know we laid out what we could both use from this, but how long is this going to go?

Trying to get rid of me already?

No. Not at all. I’m just wondering, because this can’t go on forever. And I need to prepare for things. I know this might come as a shock to you, but I’m not good with spontaneity.

No…really?

I know. Shocker. But if I know what our timeline is, I’ll feel much more comfortable.

I mean, I guess I didn’t think about it. You know, because I don’t think. I save that for you.

Happy to help.

Linc doesn’t respond back immediately, which doesn’t freak me out. Actually, I like that he’s taking his time..

But, what does freak me out is ten seconds later when I see “Boyfriend” pop up on my phone, accompanied by one of the selfies he took of himself as a FaceTime call appears.

“How much did you do to my phone? You had it for less than a minute.”

He laughs, and I can’t help but stare as I watch him lay back on his couch.

He has his free hand behind his head, unintentionally showing off his tattooed bicep that is straining against his gray Fury T-shirt.

His brown hair is messy, and he has a little scruff on his normally clean-shaven face.

I’ve always been a fan of clean-cut men and smooth faces, but suddenly I’m having an appreciation for a little scruff.

“I move quick, Ainsley. Gotta be on your toes.”

I smile as I pull my blanket up to my chin as I lay on my couch. “I didn’t take you as a phone talker.”

“Usually I’m not,” he says. “But there are just some conversations that shouldn’t be done over text. This is one of them.”

I smile again, appreciating this gesture. “Thank you.”

“No, I should be thanking you, every day,” he says. “I know I said it earlier, but I feel like I’m getting so much more out of this. You’re saving me.”

“We’re not going to keep score. But I do feel like you have more of a timeline need than I do. My hope is that Jonathan will get the hint. Or even better, find another job, so I never have to see him again.”

“And the city of Nashville would be better for it.”

I laugh. “Exactly.”

We pause for a second as I watch Linc gather his thoughts. I know this is hard for him, based on what he told me, so I have no problem waiting. I just appreciate the effort.

“I told you a little about this today, but this football season is the most important few months of my life,” he begins.

“I’m only signed with the Fury for one year.

If I can have the season of my life, I’ll either re-sign with the Fury, or another team will want to pick me up.

But if it goes south? If I’m in trouble, or don’t play well, or the black cloud that’s followed me around my entire life decides to pour on me, I’m done. There’ll be no more football.”

I know that I’m still getting to know Linc, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that this man shows his feelings in high definition.

I can see the look of determination, mixed with some sadness, in those green eyes.

Where some guys play things close to the vest, I don’t think that’s the case with Linc.

He acts first and thinks later, and I believe that’s how he shows himself as well.

He puts it all out there, no questions asked.

“Well, then that settles it,” I say. “This is going through football season.”

His smile is slow, and it comes with a little shake of the head. “I thought you said you weren’t good at making decisions?”

I blush at his teasing comment. “Maybe I just needed someone to boss around.”

Linc’s smile turns a little mischievous. “That can be arranged.”

My face is now a tomato. Which isn’t exaggeration, because I can see myself on the FaceTime.

Oh Ainsley…what are you getting yourself into?

Boyfriend

HE’S MARRIED? WTF!

I don’t know what surprised me more—the robot voice coming through my earbuds announcing that I had a text from “Boyfriend” or the cryptic message that came with it.

Ainsley

What are you talking about?

The doctor! McDreamy! He’s married!?

I bust out into laughter, nearly falling onto the fruit that I’m cutting up for my week’s meal prep. Oh my gosh, he’s actually watching…

I thought you said you weren’t going to watch it? Something about no love for you?

I wasn’t.

But…

But then I got curious. Like what kind of show could be on television that long? So a few Google searches and I figured out the one you were talking about. I turned on the first episode just to see what it was about.

And…

I just finished the first season. I haven’t slept much. Which sucks, because I have practice today, and this isn’t the way to start my first week of the season.

Welcome to the fandom.

I’m about to become addicted, aren’t I?