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“Well, yeah. All the chicks will go nuts,” Liam says. Heat surges through me, and my every muscle tenses at his statement. I hate that this is bothering me. I’ve managed to keep my feelings in check these past few days, but not anymore. The thought of “chicks going nuts” over Wade is making my blood pump in my ears.
“I can only do so much,” Wade says. “The rest is all up to her and the great article she’s going to write.”
“Way to pile on the pressure,” I say, probably turning red as a tomato. I shove him lightly in the arm. “How do you know it’s going to be great?”
“Because I’ve read your articles. You’re a brilliant writer.”
I almost choke on my drink. I pause, taking the time to swallow. “You read my articles? How? Why?”
His eyes lock on mine. “Is that so strange? I wanted to see what my girlfriend was writing. You’ve seen me play. I just returned the favour.” He smiles, and it burns a hole right through my heart.
After a moment, I finally find my words again. “Em, okay. Thanks. That means a lot.” And it really does. He’s under no obligation to take an interest in my work. But the fact that he does is going to make things a tad more complicated.
“That’s some dedication, mate,” Liam says to Wade with a sneer. “Reading a fashion magazine and all that.”
“It’s not just about fashion.” Wade’s response catches me by surprise. “It’s really interesting stuff. You should try it sometime, broaden your horizons.”
Liam gawks at Wade in disbelief, then settles his gaze on me. “You know what, Chubs? I’ll buy your magazine when Wade is on the cover. If you finally manage the win.” He winks.
Even if it’s laced with teasing, that might be one of the nicest things Liam has ever said to me regarding my work. I’m grateful to Wade for getting that out of him.
Dad squeezes my shoulder. “I really hope you win, pumpkin. You deserve it.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Now, will you help me with the lemon pie? I always mess up the baking time,” Dad asks, getting up.
With a nod, I follow him into the kitchen and preheat the oven.
“You know,” he mumbles as he slides the pie out of the fridge, “I really like Wade for you. A much better choice than Karl, if you ask me.”
I raise an eyebrow and pin him with a hard stare.
“Ah,” he says, waving a hand in dismissal. “Not because he’s a footballer. Because he cares about you. I can see it in his eyes. He’s a good chap too.”
“Okay,” I peep, wringing my hands behind my back. Because what else can I say? “Sorry, Dad. You’ve got it all wrong. We’re just pretending. We’re actually nothing”? Okay, maybe we are friends, but that’s it. I’m only halfway pretending at this point, but I doubt Wade has endured the same change of heart. I admit, he plays his part well. Maybe he has a career in acting waiting for him when he retires from football.
After lunch, the guys watch a game in the living room, so I take the opportunity to retreat upstairs to my old room. I’m actually grateful to be alone for a minute. The way Wade has been so comfortable and natural around my family is triggering my nerves, and I’m sure this chivalrous side of him will end up in my dreams. I lie belly-down on my bed, my mum’s article folder open in front of me. As I’m reading, there’s a knock at the door. I expect my dad, but it’s Wade.
“Is this your room?” he asks, looking around with curious eyes.
I sit up. “Old room, yes. Believe it or not, I don’t have posters of Ian Somerhalder on the walls of my current bedroom.”
He arches an eyebrow.
I shrug lightly. “Okay, I might have a small picture in my drawer, but that’s it.”
He laughs, and the booming sound makes my insides burn. Wade’s laugh is such a treat. I wish I could record it and listen to it any time I wanted.
“Is that your mum?” he asks, picking up a frame from the white dresser.
“Yes. Rose Grant.” It’s an old portrait, and my all-time favourite. She looks so happy in this picture, so full of life. Which is sadly not how I remember her.
“She’s beautiful. You look a lot like her.” He puts it back carefully.
I hug my chest. “Thanks.”
“What happened to her, if you don’t mind my asking?” He sits down next to me.
