Page 46 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“No worries, Heather. I didn’t feel disrespected.” I also hadn’t realized she was tipsy. “Let’s make sure you watch the drinking tonight.” She nods.

“I meant what I said that night,” She says. “I thought you were hot and the girls said it was time I …” she turns beet red. “Never mind. I was trying to be adventurous, but it wasn’t a good idea.”

“You shouldn’t try to be someone you’re not, especially when who you are is—” Dooley interrupts and I don’t mind because though I want to encourage Heather, I need to walk a fine line with her to make sure she doesn’t get the wrong idea. Because no matter how many times you tell a girl, sometimes they hear what they want to hear and misinterpret the most innocuous things.

“That Quidditch match was a blast, wasn’t it?” Dooley says. “They asked me to come back and host the next one in the spring. I told them I would if I’m still here.”

“You’re not leaving SPU, are you?” My eyebrows rise. He waves a hand.

“No, no. Don’t worry. I have another three semesters before I complete my Ph.D., but in the meantime, I want to keep my options open. I have a gig with a production local production company. I do directing and producing for them—every role really because they’re so small. They do mostly ads.”

“Congrats, Dools. I didn’t realize. I thought you were more a front-of-the-camera guy.” I slap him on the back and he stumbles forward, purposely to ham it up and I laugh.

“I do it all,” he says.

“And you know a lot of people. Maybe you could introduce Heather to some non-jock types.” He turns to her and she, of course, blushes. If she wasn’t so obviously a full grown—and well developed—woman, I’d think Heather was no more than twelve years old the way she behaves. At least with people she doesn’t know.

Shelby returns with drinks and I take a bottled water from him.

“Shel, help me out with Heather?” I wiggle my brows.

“Dude, what’s with you? Why did you tell her you’ll meet her at the party if you’re not interested?”

“Long story. But she said she likes you.”

“I guess I’ll find out exactly how much.”

“Don’t do anything sleazy.” He gives me the finger and sweeps Heather up for a dance without asking her.

Hanging back with Dooley while he entertains a couple of guys with a Quidditch story, I text Amanda:

Hows yur date with coach Ryan going?

Hitting send before I think better about it, I chalk it up to harmless banter, right?

I know I’m interrupting her date, or at least I hope I am. Dooley zeroes in on me and I slip the phone back in my pocket. No chance she’s going to answer me any time soon anyway.

“Since when are you the wallflower?” He puts his palm against my forehead. “You have a fever or something?”

“Or something. Let’s call it ennui.” His brows go up and he laughs then drags me onto the make-shift dance floor with a crowd of girls, none of whom look familiar which means they’re all freshmen and the idea has the opposite effect of pleasure. But I dance and smile because I’m not a prick though I’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Want a punch?” one of the girls says and giggles. “I mean a drink of punch.” I shake my head, forcing a smile.

“Don’t mind him,” Dooley says, “he’s trying out for the part of a broody bad boy this year.” Then he grabs my arm and yanks with surprising strength, pulling me into another room that looks like a study and flips on the lights. “Spill the juice, Jonesy.” He shuts the door and folds his arms across his chest.

“Don’t call me that.” It’s an automatic response.

“You still worried about being like your dear daddy?” He arches a brow.

I want to tell him what’s bothering me more than ever because I have a fucking hard-on that won’t quit for a fucking coach that could get us both into deep shit if I don’t back off. I need to leave it alone. But I don’t say a word, lifting both my hands to run them through my unruly hair. No haircut until the season’s over and it’s starting to show.

“No.” I lie my ass off.

“You’re a terrible liar. This is about Coach Leggy Lake, isn’t it?” I jerk my head up, all pretense gone because what the hell’s the use? He’s Dooley and he seems to know all anyway.

“What you need is shock treatment which is essentially convincing her to fuck around until you’re both used up and done with it and then moving on.” He’s fucking serious, but I laugh anyway because it sounds absurd. It is absurd

“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” I admit the absurd truth. I’ve hardly thought of anything else—in the form of X-rated daydreams and night dreams. “It’s a no go.”