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CHAPTER7
Quinn
I can't stop staringat his lips. We've been sitting in this diner for the past fifteen minutes, and all I can think about is how talented those lips are and what they do to my body. When Wes began coming into the pub regularly, I knew he’d eventually wear me down. The fact that butterflies flutter in my stomach every time he looks my way should tell me enough, but after last night and then this morning, I can't deny that I want this man...a lot.
“If you continue to look at me like that, I won't be responsible for what happens next.” His tone is serious, but his eyes glint with mischief.
God, he's so fucking good-looking that I take one more silent moment to check him out. His light hair is curling at the ends and those green eyes that turn blue in the right light cause heat to pool between my legs. Blowing out a shaky breath, I cross them underneath the booth to alleviate the ache that's steadily growing.
“Quinn…” he warns as my eyes shoot back up to meet his.
“Sorry,” I mumble, the flush creeping up my cheeks. I know he can see just how much he affects me since I'm practically translucent, or at least that's the running joke between Andy and me.
Before I have a chance to panic about the sudden silence surrounding us, the server comes over and sets down our food. I got a turkey club, and he got a burger the size of my head.
“You're seriously going to eat all that? How can you fit it in your mouth?” I ask without thinking.
His eyes glimmer with mischief. “You’d be surprised what I can fit in my mouth, Angel.”
I burst out laughing.“I walked right into that one, didn't I?”
He smiles, taking a fry off his plate and throwing it into his mouth.
“Tell me about you,” I ask vaguely, wanting to know everything about him.
“What do you want to know?”
I knew that was coming, so I take a moment to think.“Where did you go to college?”
By the look on his face, he wasn't expecting that question to be my first.“You don't know?” he asks, genuinely curious.
I smile.“Not everyone followed your every move, Wes. I knew of you, but once you left…” I trail off.
He nods, getting my point.“I went to Notre Dame on a full-ride scholarship.”
Impressive.“Football?” I ask, already knowing the answer
By the smirk on his face, he knows that, too.“From the way you used to watch me in high school. I doubt you didn't put two and two together.”
I blush again, and his eyes heat.“I never watched you in high school.” I lie, knowing full well I used to sit in those bleachers and pray he would notice me.
“We can sit here all day and pretend you didn't sit as far away from the field as possible with your books and peek over the pages every chance you got.”
My mouth hangs open in shock. The idea of Wes noticing me when I thought I was invisible takes me aback. Never in a million years did I think he knew who I was back then.
“Are you just saying that so you have a chance to get into my pants?” I half tease, wondering if the rumors about him in high school were true. He loved dating as much as I loved reading and always had a new girlfriend.
“If this morning means anything, I think I already got in your pants.” He winks before leaning forward and taking one of my hands in his. “I promise I’m not fucking with you. I noticed you because you were sweet, so fucking smart, and everyone liked you.”
I go to refute all of this, but he just shakes his head. “I was too old for you, and honestly, I wasn't ready for anything serious, and you deserve more than what high school me could give you.”
I tilt my head to the side, wondering what he means by that, but before I can ask, he answers it for me. “Quinn, I was eighteen, a football star, and living my life according to my other small head. I would have chewed you up and spit you out, so I stayed away.”
In a way, I'm grateful. Falling for a guy like Wes at that age would have had devastating results, even if fifteen-year-old me wished it had happened.“I get it. So what happened to football? I never saw anything about you being drafted or anything,” I say with a shrug, not knowing a thing about the sport.
His eyes lose some of their humor, and I wonder if I hit a sore spot for him. I almost open my mouth to take the question back when he answers.
“I was headed there, even had a few NFL scouts at some of my games, but I snapped my Achilles tendon and had to have surgery to correct it. I was never the same after that.”
