Page 22 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Rory

H appy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Dad says, handing me a red heart-shaped box of my favorite chocolate truffles and a fluffy, oversized teddy bear that’s nearly as big as I am.

I smile, stroking my fingers over the soft fur of the teddy bear. “Thanks, Dad.”

Our annual Valentine’s dinner is tradition, and thankfully it means that the girl who’s hopeless at relationships doesn’t have to spend the day alone.

But as much as I love our traditions, I truly want him to find someone to share his life with.

He deserves it, more than anyone, especially after what my mom put him through.

Imagine being barely a kid yourself and becoming a single dad to a toddler because your wife decides that she isn’t ready to be a mother.

Ever since then, it’s just been the two of us, and I love being a daddy’s girl. I love that we have such a close relationship, and he wants to spend time together.

“But you do know that you don’t have to spend your Valentine’s Day with me every year, right?

” I say as I place the chocolate and teddy bear next to me on his kitchen island, then hop up onto the granite countertop, watching as he walks over to the stove and turns the burner on.

“I’m totally fine alone, sitting on my couch watching TV and eating a gallon of ice cream. Enjoying my new apartment.”

He whistles, eyes widening. “A gallon, Ror? Seems like a lot of sugar at once.” When I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, biting back a smirk, he shrugs. “You know there’s no one else I’d rather spend time with than my favorite girl. Plus, it’s tradition.”

And what he really means is that he’s too afraid to put himself back out there and start dating again even though I’m in college and no longer live at home.

“I love our Valentine’s dinner. But…” I trail off.

“But what?”

“But… I think you need to put yourself back in the dating game. Meet someone. Get out of the house and have fun.”

Maybe I’m projecting a little bit about my own life, you know since I’ve officially secured a phone number and these lessons from Cillian are actually making a difference.

It feels good. And I just want the same thing for him.

Dad shakes his head and tears his gaze away, avoiding the topic as usual and busying himself with mixing the pancake batter in a bowl. “And the last time we talked about this we said that my daughter wasn’t going to play matchmaker and would stay out of my dating life, remember?”

I let out a long sigh. That’s indeed what we said, but I’m nothing if not persistent. “Fine. But for the record, I think that you should. No risk, no reward, remember?” I repeat the saying he’s told me since I was a kid, and he eyes me for a moment before going back to the mixing.

The only thing I want is for him to be happy. That’s what matters to me, and I just think he’s a little… lonely is all. Even if he doesn’t want to date, meeting new people outside of Prescott would be good for him.

If I can do it, then I know he can.

“Anyways, tell me about your week. How are your classes going?” he asks, pouring a round circle of batter into the pan.

Our Valentine’s Day dinner tradition has always been pancakes and bacon.

Then we watch our favorite movie together, and I usually fall asleep before it’s halfway through.

Sometimes we switch it up and watch Fool’s Gold instead. You know, just to be spontaneous.

Only this day is slightly different because I’m distracted by thoughts of Cillian, and I know that’s the last person I should be thinking of. But I haven’t stopped thinking about him since the whole dress fiasco and the bar the other night.

Even though I’ve tried. An exorbitant amount of times.

I keep thinking about the way his fingers felt along my heated skin, or the way my heart seemed to beat out of my chest when I stood so close to him.

How his thick, dark lashes kissed his cheeks before he dragged his gaze up to mine, his pupils blown and darkened with what felt like lust.

How, in my slightly drunken haze, I moved against him. I thought I felt him hard and pressing against me as we danced, but I’d had a lot to drink.

These thoughts were all-consuming and… confusing.

Things feel different somehow, but I’m probably just reading too much into it because Cillian being actually interested in me would be crazy.

Right?

Which is exactly why I’ve been trying to think about anything other than the bad boy who’s supposed to be teaching me to flirt with other guys, not making me wet with that delicious English accent.

“Rory?” Dad’s voice causes me to jolt, and my fingers tighten around the edge of the counter.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I respond after clearing my throat.

He’s got three steaming pancakes finished on the plate, and I somehow blanked during that entire time thinking about Cillian.

“I said what have you been up to? Feels like it’s been a few days since we talked.”

Oh.

My cheeks still feel warm as I nod. “Yeah, just school and studying, the normal. I heard that the guys may be warming up to Cillian some? How is that going?”

He shrugs, flipping another pancake and exhaling. “Might be turning a corner, but it’s still a little early to tell. They seem to be working better on the pitch together, and I’ve seen a few conversations happening. Fitz and Wren seem to be offering some support.”

I witnessed that firsthand at the bar, and I could’ve kissed them both for it.

I knew that they wouldn’t be the ones to continue to ice Cillian out, especially after I asked Fitz to make an effort. I’m just hoping and praying that we keep moving in the right direction.

It’s all part of my brilliant plan. A little bit of luck and a whole lot of strategy. Just like playing the game.

“Yeah, I do think there’s a whole lot less hostility between them, at least from what I’m seeing on the pitch? I think that it’ll all work out, Dad. I mean we knew that things would be tense for a while as the guys adjusted; it’s just taking a little longer than we planned, that’s all.”

My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my cutoffs, and I pull it out, swiping my finger across the screen to open the text notification.

Cillian: Time for your final exam.

Shit.

Now?

I tap a quick response.

Rory: You realize what today is, right?

Cillian: Yep. What better way to celebrate than a date?

Rory: A fake one you mean.

Cillian: Of course.

Cillian: You down or no?

I chew my bottom lip, my gaze lingering on the screen.

“Everything okay?” Dad asks, and I look up to see him observing me with a spatula in hand, brow lifted.

I nod. “Yes. Actually… would it be okay if I maybe… took a rain check on dinner? There’s uh… I have a friend who wants to hang out tonight. I know it’s our tradition, and I don’t wan—”

“Of course, it’s okay, Ror. Go, enjoy your night. Your old man will be fine. You’re only young and in college once.” He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Do I know this friend?”

Yes.

But for the first time in as long as I can remember, I lie to him.

Because telling my dad about Cillian is only going to complicate an already complicated mess when it comes to the team.

“Nope. Just… someone I know from class,” I say as I hop down from the counter and quickly respond to Cillian’s message.

Rory: I’m down.

Cillian: Meet me at Ivy & Ale in an hour.