Shifting Gears: The Complete Series (Sports Bad Boy Romance) (25 page)

I squinted, and I could make out a mass of
black hair and lots of tattoos. Uh oh, this had to be the infamous Brock. Megan
had told me that he had black, shoulder-length hair, blue eyes and lots of
tattoos on his arms that were quite nice in their own right. Okay, she had been
right about a few things. He did have nice arms. The V-neck T-shirt that he
wore fit snugly, and his chest looked good as well. His hair was black and he
did have tattoos. I was still squinting, but at an Adonis I couldn’t see. Maybe
he was a much less Latin Enrique Iglesias, but still god-like? At this distance
I’d have to beg to differ.

The rest of the women in the auditorium
might argue with me. They all seemed to be dying to touch him, held back only
by the invisible wall of campus security. I watched him as he was coming to the
end of the song. He threw back his head and as he hit a high note, he brushed a
few sweaty strands of the shiny black hair out of his eyes. I was shocked to
note then, even at this distance, that Megan was right about one more thing; he
did have the prettiest blue eyes that I had ever seen. I had to wonder if he
was wearing contacts, that’s how blue they were. As I looked at him and pondered
it, he brought his song to an end and the audience jumped to their feet, all
but blocking my view of him, and I’m sure severely impeding that of the dwarf
to my right.

I toughed it out to the end…two bands
later. I was rather proud of myself too, having fought off the urge to leave
several times. As the flood of college bodies began to ebb towards the exit
doors, I made my escape. I texted Megan when I got to the courtyard and told
her where I was.

“Hey!” she said when she finally found me.
“Where have you been?”

“I got stuck in the back,” I told her. “Hi
Jake.”

“Hey Molly. Did you get to see Brock’s
set, at least?”

“Was that the guy with all the tattoos?” I
asked, knowing full well that it was. Imagine my surprise when Jake’s answer
came from the guy with all the tattoos who was now standing behind me. He
should add “Native American Tracking” to his resume. I hadn’t even known he was
there.

“That’s the guy,” he said, in answer to my
question. His voice startled me, and I spun around too quickly. It made me
dizzy and I almost lost my balance and fell on my clumsy butt. Thanks to
cat-like reflexes on the guy’s part however, I was left standing. Albeit,
standing with his hand on my arm, feeling like an idiot and a pervert at the
same time. I felt like an idiot for nearly tripping over my own feet, and a
pervert because I was enjoying the feel of this stranger’s hand on my arm. I’m
not sure now how long I looked into those intense blue eyes before telling
myself he had been holding onto me way too long. I took a small step backwards
to detach myself and said, “Thank you.” It was my brilliant way of flirting.
Most girls can’t pull it off.

“Brock, this is my friend Molly,” Megan
said. “Molly—Brock.”

“Hi Molly,” he said with a grin. I wasn’t
sure that I liked that grin. Not that it wasn’t the stuff that would make a
girl’s clothes melt right off and fall onto the floor, but there was something
else there too that I couldn’t put my finger on. I had to wonder what he was
thinking about all of this “setting up” business. Was he grinning as he thought
about ripping Jake’s head off later for subjecting him to this? Or, was he
grinning because he thought that I was cute? I’m not sure why I care…No, that’s
not right, I really don’t care. I don’t want to be set up…I don’t need a
boyfriend right now. They only get in the way. I swallowed the rest of the
embarrassment that was left in my throat and said, “Hi Brock.” Again…It’s my
way with words that get them. It’s a gift, really.

 
“Let’s go eat,” Megan said, “I’m starving.”

I wasn’t really hungry, having made myself
one of my special protein shakes before leaving the dorm room, but I had come
this far in my quest to please my friend. I would have to assume that another
hour or so at a food booth wouldn’t kill me.

Jake led the way, and one didn’t need the
powers of perception to know that we would end up at the taco stand. Megan may
be Jake’s soulmate, but if someone asked me about his one true love, I’d have
to say it was Mexican food.

Smoothly, and not a bit obviously, Jake said,
“Brock, why don’t you and Molly find us a table. Megan and I will grab the
tacos.”

Brock looked at me and all I could think
to do was shrug. So he started walking away from the counter and towards an
empty cement picnic table in the courtyard. We sat down…on opposite sides of
the table. Far be it from either of us to exhibit any of the social skills we
had learned from the fourth grade on.

We sat there silently, until Megan and
Jake returned with the ridiculously over-sized tray of tacos. Even Brock looked
amused. Jake and Megan took one look at us and said, almost in unison, “This
isn’t going to work.”

“What’s that?” Brock asked. I suspected
that he knew, as did I, that the soulmates would have to share the same side of
the table and he was just messing with them. I was amused and decided to play
along.

“Yeah, Jake,” I said, “What’s not going to
work?
 
Your attempt to poison us, or clog
our arteries and push us into an untimely death in our forties from
high-cholesterol?”

Jake was looking at me, confused.
Sometimes, when Megan called him her teddy bear…I wondered if it was because
his head was full of fluff.

“Um, no,” he said. “I want to sit by
Megan.”

Brock grinned again, but he didn’t say
anything. He just pushed himself up to his feet, flexing those well-defined
biceps as he pressed against the table, and came over to sit next to me. Poor
guy, he must be really good friends with Jake. I could see how the other girls
looked at him as they passed our table, and then at me like I was the
interloper. I’m sure he’d rather be out flirting with a cheerleader…or six,
rather than sitting here with me.

 
Jake began passing out the tacos then, and
when I said that I would pass he said, “Oh come on Moll’s you can eat at least
one, can’t you?”

I imagined myself saying, “Why yes Jake, I
can eat at least one and only feel slightly nauseated. Two for full blown
stomach pain and three please for a night of worshipping the porcelain God that
lives in my bathroom.”

But instead, I smiled sweetly and picking
the one that looked the least offensive to my stomach lining I said, “Okay, one
is fine, thanks.” As I picked at the taco, I noticed that Brock was watching
me. He had that amused look on his face again and when I looked up at him as if
to say, “What?” he grinned and said, “Not a fan of the taco?”

I looked at my plate. The poor taco laying
on it looked as if it had been left torn and bloody in the aftermath of a
terrible accident. I smiled and simply said, “It’s fine. I’m just on kind of a
strict diet and tacos aren’t generally included in the menu.”

He looked me over then, and I have to say
that although it made me a little uncomfortable, it also gave me a bit of a
cheap thrill. Again I was tempted to say, “What?”, but before I did he said,
“Well, it seems to be working for you.”

Smooth guy this Brock. He’s probably been
operating women like heavy machinery since he was still in diapers. Lucky for
me, I don’t fall for that sort of thing. Never mind that my stomach was doing
somersaults, which I could rationally blame on the tacos. I simply replied,
“Thank you.” Now who’s smooth?

“Jake, will you get us something to
drink?” Megan asked him. Jake sighed as he was about to bite into his second
taco, but like the dutiful and whipped boyfriend he was, he put it down and
said, “Sure Meggs. Come with me Brock?” Brock still looked amused. Maybe he was
wearing vibrating underwear or something that kept him so tickled. I’d ask him,
but I think it may be too soon in our “not a relationship”.

“So?” Megan said, as soon as they were
gone.

“So what?” I asked. I knew what she was
talking about, but hey, a girl has to have a little fun.

“What do you think of Brock?” she asked
me. I glanced over at him near the drink booth. I acted like I hadn’t really
thought about it up to this point. Megan hates it when I do that, so it’s fun.

“He seems…nice,” I told her finally.

“Nice?” she said, obviously unhappy with
my choice of adjectives. “I introduce you to the hottest guy on campus and all
you can say is that he seems nice?”

I rolled my eyes. “Megan, what would you
like me to say? He’s my soulmate?”

Megan stuck out her bottom lip. I hated
when she did that and she knew it. That was, I’m sure why it was so fun for
her. “You’re making fun of me now,” she said.

“Oh, stop it,” I told her. “I am not.”

 
Maybe
I was…but just a little. “I have just told you so many times that I’m not
looking for a boyfriend. I don’t understand why you are so intent on setting me
up.”

“He’s a great guy Molly. All of the girls
on campus want him.”

“Then who am I to deny them?” I asked her
with a grin.

“You’re hopeless, do you know that?” she
asked.

“I know. Here they come. Please don’t
push, okay?”

 
“Okay,” she said, but sounded reluctant. I’d
have to keep my eye on this one.

The guys came back with our drinks, and
after more awkward small talk and Jake scarfing down three more tacos he
suddenly said, “Wow, Megan look at the time, we have to go.”

Megan, to her credit as my friend,
pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about and said, “Go where?”

Jake, proving once more why I think we
should call him “Jake McStuffins” said, “You know, we have that…thing.” I guess
coming up with an actual place they had to be would have taken too much brain
power for him. Megan looked like she didn’t know what to say, so to save her
from being caught between her friend and her…soulmate, I said, “It’s okay. I
have a physics test tomorrow that I need to study for.” “Hot-guy Brock” was now
giving me a look that I couldn’t interpret. This one wasn’t amused, but I
couldn’t decide what it was exactly. Finally he said, “You take physics?”
Ah…one who can adequately state the obvious. He was no doubt a keeper.

“Yes,” I said with another sweet smile as
I stood up. “And I really do need to study. It was nice meeting you…” He was
standing up too.
Please don’t offer to
walk with me…Please don’t offer to walk with me…

“How about I walk with you?” Of course, he
offered to walk with me. “You live with Megan in the freshman dorm, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, “but it’s really not
necessary to walk with me. I’ll be fine.”
Much
more so than I will be if you tag along and I have to come up with fifteen more
minutes of stilted conversation.

“I don’t mind at all,” he said with a
smile. He looked amused again. Maybe he was a masochist?

“Wait!” It was Jake McStuffins. I wondered
if he had thought of a fake place they were going for their thing. It was
worse, however. “Megan and I forgot to ask you guys about the football game.”

“Football?” The hot guy and I both said in
unison. Then we looked at each other and…you guessed it…he looked amused.

“Yeah, I have four tickets for Saturday’s
game. It’s a big rival game. It’ll be great,” he said.

“I don’t think so, Jake.” I declined
politely. I might have added that I’d rather have my toenails pulled out with a
pair of rusty pliers if he hadn’t been my friend.

“Yeah, me neither,” Brock said.

“Oh, come on guys!” It was Megan now,
always on Jake’s side. I remember in second grade when we became “blood
sisters” and promised to never let a man come between us. She had obviously
forgotten that small detail. “It’ll be fun. You don’t have to like football. It
can just be a fun night out with friends.”

Not wanting to continue the argument and
make them late for their “thing”, I said that I would think about it. Brock did
as well, and then we were on our way down the awkward brick road towards the
dorms. We hadn’t gone five steps before I suddenly spit out, “So, you’re a
music major?” And I wondered why I amused him so. I guess he wasn’t the only
expert at stating the obvious.

Amused, of course, he said, “Yeah, how
about you?”

“No, I’m not a music major. They’d never
have me,” I told him. It was an attempt at humor, but I think the arrow fell
just short. I quickly tried to return the conversation towards serious to
deflect from my poor attempt at humor and said, “I’m a liberal arts major…for
now. I’m not sure what I want to be when I grow up,” I said the last with a
smile, so he could be sure it was humor. Then, going from bad comedy to
sounding like Sheldon from
The Big Bang
Theory,
I said, “As long as it’s something in science.”

“Wow, smart girl.”

He didn’t have the amused look now. He
actually looked…impressed? “The hospital here does some great research. This
university is a good choice for someone interested in science I would think.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”