Page 14 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

I don’t look like the kind of girl who can rap Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” word for word, then quickly punch out a show tune followed by the legendary rock anthem “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” He’ll never know how much I love Nickelback or Beyoncé or Etta James or the Jackson Five.

He’ll never see my Beach Boys playlist or my Disney Channel Favorites.

And he’ll never know that my favorite song to belt out in the shower is “Dream a Little Dream of Me” or that I love driving and singing along to country pop like Thomas Rhett and Chase Rice or punk rock by Good Charlotte, Green Day, Marianas Trench, and Busted .

I’m eclectic, okay?

Although my favorite genre, if I really had to pick one, would be music from the ’50s and ’60s. My parents own a retro diner, and I grew up around that music. They even have an old-school jukebox that they’ve lovingly maintained, and I know every track on that thing.

But that doesn’t mean I’m stuck back in time.

Glancing down at my pleated tartan skirt and thick black stockings, I wonder if people think I am, though.

Shoot. I should have worn something different tonight.

I own one pair of jeans. It’s probably worth pulling them out again. I could pair them with?—

“Do you like milkshakes?”

“Huh?”

“I know, stupid question. Everybody likes milkshakes. I’m a chocolate guy, and I’m guessing you’re a…” He glances at me, his lips curling into a smile. “I’m gonna go strawberry.”

My lips twitch, and I hate to correct him, but… my nose wrinkles. “I hate strawberry.”

“Damn, I thought I was on the money with that one.”

I can’t help a grin.

He glances at me, his eyebrow arching. “So, you gonna make me keep guessing?”

“Oh, um, salted caramel is probably my top pick.”

“Nice.”

“Followed closely by plain ol’ vanilla.”

“Hey, it’s a classic. Nothing wrong with that.”

His smile is broad and beautiful, and I catch its full beam as we drive through the well-lit intersection. This strange feeling bubbles in my stomach, and I work to ignore it.

“So, why are we talking about milkshakes?”

“Because we’re going to the best diner in town for milkshakes. They’re thick and creamy and all things good.”

“Are you allowed them, Mr. Football Player?”

“You bet I am.” He raises his eyebrows. “Or at least that’s what I’m gonna keep telling myself. With the number of calories I burn in training, I can get away with a milkshake or two.” His wink is adorable, and I force my gaze away from it.

He makes my cheeks hot.

I don’t like it.

Or maybe I kinda do.

My stomach bubbles again, and I try to squash the feeling by talking about Captain Ahab and the types of food his crew probably ate on the Pequot .

“Ugh. I hate to think.” Wily shakes his head. “Let me just enjoy the fact that we get to eat delicious diner food.” He laughs. “Unless you think I should be mentioning his diet in my essay.”

“No, you don’t… He doesn’t… That’s probably not relevant.”

“Oh good. Because I don’t think my brain can handle too much more.”

I let out a nervous titter and try to remind him, “You’re capable of more than you think.”

He doesn’t respond, and we’re left with BNL tunes. I resist the urge to sing along with “Odds Are”—one of my favorites—and stare out the window until he’s pulling into a diner parking lot that makes me think of home .

It’s not as retro as our family diner, but the booths and the smells that hit me the second I walk through the door make me pine for Fledgling.

I miss my family so much sometimes.

Thank God they’re only forty-five minutes away.

Still. It’s not like I’m having dinner with them every night, and sometimes I get hit with the biggest wave of homesickness.

“Table for two.” Wily holds up his fingers. “And can we get a booth? We’re studying and need to spread out a little.”

“Absolutely.” The girl smiles at him, her eyes big and flirty.

I glance up at Wily’s face, not surprised by the way he’s checking her out as she leads us to a booth.

Ugh. Jocks. So freaking typical.

Although Wily has been breaking a lot of my stereotypes, it’s a good reminder.

He’s still a hot-blooded male who’s into sexy woman. And he can probably get any one he wants.

This weird bubbling sensation inside me can just get lost, thank you very much. Wily is a college student who is paying me to tutor him. Nothing more.

Shaking off my winter coat, I then shuffle into the booth and get my laptop set up before I’ve even looked at a menu. I need to keep this professional, right?

“Here, at least figure out what you’re gonna eat first.” Wily holds a menu out for me, and I force myself to take it. I give it a quick skim and settle on potato skins and chicken tenders with ranch dressing. Yum!

I wonder if they’ll be as good as my dad’s. He’s perfected chicken tenders. The herbs he adds to the crumb are perfect! And the special dipping sauce he makes… mmmmm! My mouth’s watering just thinking about it.

And there goes my stomach again.

I scrunch over on myself while Wily laughs and gets the waitress’s attention.

“Hey.” He smiles up at her. “Alexis.”

“Hi.” She beams back, dipping her hip, her high ponytail swinging.

And I may as well be invisible.

I should be grateful. Invisible is better than the laughingstock.

Dipping my chin, I mumble out my order when she asks me for it, and then Wily finishes for me…

“She’ll also take a salted caramel milkshake, please, and I’ll grab a chocolate.” He winks, and the waitress blushes as she scribbles down that last note and practically skips away from the table.

“Do you know her?” I ask as we watch her prance away.

Though I’m probably looking at her quite differently to the way he is.

“Nope.” He turns back to face me. “I think she’s new.”

“But you called her by name.”

“I read her name tag.” He winks at me. “People are always nicer to you if you take the time to show a little interest in them.”

I raise my eyebrows, fighting a grin. “I’m pretty sure she’d like you even if you didn’t say her name.”

He shrugs and gives me a tired smile. “A lot of girls do.”

Wow… how can someone say that and not look like an arrogant putz? But he’s just stating it like it’s a fact of life he has no control over.

I tip my head, my eyes narrowing as I study him, but then he puts on a grin like he’s pulling a mask over his face, and I can’t help myself.

“You flirt with a lot of girls.”

“They flirt with me.” He shrugs. “And I’m a friendly guy.”

My eyes continue to narrow, and he lets out a short laugh.

“I’m serious on the friendly thing. I like to be nice to everybody. If some people interpret that as flirting, that’s really not?—”

“No, no, no.” I shake my head. “What you were doing with that girl just then… that was intentional flirting.”

He opens his mouth with exaggerated offense. “I was being nice.”

“And checking her out.” I laugh the words, then quickly pull myself together. “And winking and eyeing her up like you were imagining what she looked like under that uniform of hers.”

Holy crap, what am I saying?

I’m never this bold with people, calling them out on their shit. Why do I think I can do it with Wily?

His lips part a little farther, his mock expression changing to genuine surprise. It’s like I’ve caught him red-handed, and I can’t tell if he’s impressed or annoyed by that.

I shrink down in my seat, pressing my back against the booth.

After a painful beat, he seems to make a decision and turns my cheeks crimson by admitting, “I do that with all girls.”

My face scrunches. One: to try and hide the fact that if he did that with me, I would want to crawl into a hole and die. And two: to try and hide the fact that he probably didn’t do that with me, and that makes me feel even worse for some weird reason.

Oh yeah, and then my face starts buckling with disgust because “Ew. That is so creepy.”

“What?” He shrugs. “I’m not going to act on it. I only ever hook up with girls who want to be with me.”

“Still. I don’t think your friends would appreciate it if they knew you were mentally undressing their girlfriends.”

His eyes bulge like I just slapped him or something. “I would never do that.”

“You just said you do it with all girls.”

“Okay, fine.” He raises his hands. “I don’t do it with all girls.”

I keep watching him until the tips of his ears turn bright pink, and I have to snort derisively. “You’re gross.”

Dipping his head, he squeezes the back of his neck and softly admits, “Girls are beautiful, okay? I like looking at them. But I’d never disrespect them or hurt them or do anything to make them feel less than.” Looking back up, he holds me still with his intense blue gaze. “You get me?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod, telling myself I should just drop this. But then my mouth opens of its own accord. Again .

“It’s lucky they can’t read your mind. Because by the sounds of it, all you’re doing is turning them from a human being with a soul to just a body you can drool over.”

He closes his eyes, obviously disgusted by my interpretation. “That is not accurate at all. I didn’t mean to say it like that, okay?”

“More like you didn’t mean to admit it .”

What are you doing? Shut up, you’re gonna piss him off!

He lets out a soft huff and rests his forearms on the table, leaning toward me, his face flickering with irritation. “I respect women, okay?”

“Uh-huh.” I cross my arms, surprised by how I’m not just letting this go. He’s getting annoyed with me. I should seriously drop this!

It’s really not my concern.

“Look…” He sighs, shaking his head while the tips of his ears glow red again. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete asshole, but I think women’s bodies are beautiful, and I have this habit of wondering what they look like under their clothing.”

I can’t help making a face. “Well, can I suggest it’s a habit you try to break? Because it’s gross, and if you ever get a girlfriend or a wife, they won’t appreciate it.”

Leaning back with a sigh, he eyes me up, tapping his fingers on the booth between us and finally nodding. “That’s fair, and I’ve never thought about it that way. It’s just a quick thing I do.”

“It’s an ick thing you do, and you need to stop,” I mutter, my insides flaring.

I never talk to people like this. Seriously. It’s the most confrontational I’ve ever been. Ever! I have no idea what’s come over me, and I’m so relieved when he gives me an abashed look and then swallows .

“You know, Satch.” He wags his finger at me. “You’re good for me.”

I flush, my shoulders twitching. “What do you mean?”

“I need someone in my life who’s gonna call me on shit like this.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I mean, my sister, Blake, usually does, but we haven’t lived in the same town since I left for college.

And I’ve had no one here to check me, you know?

Most of the people I hang with are guys who are just like me or girls who want to get with me.

But you…” He grabs a fork out of the holder and starts wagging it at me. “You’re?—”

“Here we go.” The waitress appears, her chipper voice cutting off whatever he was about to say.

It’s a good thing, because my heart had lodged itself in my throat and I was about ten seconds away from choking on it.

Placing our food down, Alexis gives Wily another flirtatious smile. He grins back, his eyes starting to trail downward until he shakes his head, his gaze snapping to mine.

I smile at him, both surprised and impressed. He gives me a little wink, thanking the waitress and not looking at her when she wanders away.

“Wow. How much is this killing you right now?”

Staring down at his steak and potatoes, he picks up his knife and looks up with a triumphant grin. “It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would.”

I laugh, not sure I believe him.

Grabbing his chocolate milkshake, he raises it in the air. “Cheers, Tutor Girl. Looks like you’ve got more than just Moby Dick to teach me. ”

With a hot blush, I lift my glass. “Cheers.” We clink, then sip, and for reasons I can’t fathom, I find myself smiling at this jock who I should seriously not like at all.

But there’s something strangely charming about him.

Annoyingly charming?

Or just plain charming?

Dammit.

No wonder everybody loves him.