the air, trying to conjure up an explanation. No words come out: I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with Weston McGrath of all people . The very first time we formally meet.
"Look, just forget it."
"Hell no I won't forget it! Are you trying to drive me nuts? You know what? Here, give me your iPod. I'll just listen to it myself." He doesn't wait for me to hand it to him. Nope. The brute leans across the table and snaps up the iPod, its small size dwarfed by his large hands.
His bare arms are tan, toned, and now that we're sitting here and he's distracted, I can openly study his tattoo. It's an intricate design starting in the middle of his forearm and ending at his muscular shoulder blade. It looks like it might actually end even farther under his shirt - like maybe his collarbone, but from where I'm sitting it's hard to tell. And, I can definitely make out a few objects: the Ravens mascot, a crucifix, and a girl's name (Zoe, I think?) all woven into a tapestry of Celtic designs. It is entirely black.
Weston has my ear buds in and is adjusting the volume of my pink Nano.
I can tell that the song is on because his eyes settle on mine.
You should have kissed me: such a wistful and romantic song. I recently discovered it, and could listen to it over and over. Even though I can't hear the song playing myself, I can hear the words and rhythm playing in my head. "I should have kissed you...I should have pushed you up against the wall....I should have kissed you, just like I wasn't scared at all...."
Dear lord, I wonder what he's thinking.
Weston is watching me watch him, his dark chocolate eyes are hooded as if he's gotten sleepy. His dark inky eyelashes are sinfully long for a guy.
Minutes tick by.
Slowly - aguishly - he runs his tongue several times over the cut on his lower lip before reaching up and removing the ear buds.
I can't stand it. I have to ask.
"So...?" What did you think my mind is screaming.
He thinks for a heartbeat then gives me a non-committed "You're right. I've never heard it."
Wait. What ?
That's it? After all that buildup? Okay, so obviously the buildup was only on my end. But in any case, I feel disappointment. Really Molly, what did you expect? He's a guy. And all this talk of kissing has me hot and bothered . For real,I wouldn't fight him off if he suddenly decided to ravish me with kisses. After all, I haven't been kissed in ages, and I've almost forgotten what it feels like. And I'm not really sure what to say at this point, so I just continue eating my half eaten meal, which has gotten cold during our conversation.
I rack my ravaged brain for a safe topic. "So,Weston. How did the scrimmage go today?"
There. Safe enough.
His eyebrows shoot up. "You weren't there?" he says and stops chewing. Obviously he's surprised - I can tell by the look on his face.
On second thought, maybe not such a safe topic...
"I was working . But... I usually don't go to the games, no." I can see by his confused expression that this is a foreign concept. He tips his head to the side, like a cocker spaniel. A girl not following his every move? Shocking! "Why do you seem so surprised?"
"Why not?" he asks. His plate is completely empty so he picks up his glass of water, picks out the straw and, tipping his head back, chugs it downs.
I can't help but admire the muscles of his collar bone, and the smooth area of skin just visible above the 'V' neck of the raggedy tee shirt.
He sets his glass down with a loud 'thunk' and the abrupt sound snaps me out of my perusal.
"Why not what?" Earth to Molly .
"Why do you usually not come to the games?"
I shrug. "I just... don't. I just don't think they're that big a deal."
Weston's dark eyes bore into me like I've just delivered an insult. I can tell he's fighting back a sarcastic remark because the muscles in his clenched jaw tick. "Not a big deal?"
I study him for a moment. His nostrils flare.
Testosterone much?
"You want the truth? Here it is: I prefer
"Look, just forget it."
"Hell no I won't forget it! Are you trying to drive me nuts? You know what? Here, give me your iPod. I'll just listen to it myself." He doesn't wait for me to hand it to him. Nope. The brute leans across the table and snaps up the iPod, its small size dwarfed by his large hands.
His bare arms are tan, toned, and now that we're sitting here and he's distracted, I can openly study his tattoo. It's an intricate design starting in the middle of his forearm and ending at his muscular shoulder blade. It looks like it might actually end even farther under his shirt - like maybe his collarbone, but from where I'm sitting it's hard to tell. And, I can definitely make out a few objects: the Ravens mascot, a crucifix, and a girl's name (Zoe, I think?) all woven into a tapestry of Celtic designs. It is entirely black.
Weston has my ear buds in and is adjusting the volume of my pink Nano.
I can tell that the song is on because his eyes settle on mine.
You should have kissed me: such a wistful and romantic song. I recently discovered it, and could listen to it over and over. Even though I can't hear the song playing myself, I can hear the words and rhythm playing in my head. "I should have kissed you...I should have pushed you up against the wall....I should have kissed you, just like I wasn't scared at all...."
Dear lord, I wonder what he's thinking.
Weston is watching me watch him, his dark chocolate eyes are hooded as if he's gotten sleepy. His dark inky eyelashes are sinfully long for a guy.
Minutes tick by.
Slowly - aguishly - he runs his tongue several times over the cut on his lower lip before reaching up and removing the ear buds.
I can't stand it. I have to ask.
"So...?" What did you think my mind is screaming.
He thinks for a heartbeat then gives me a non-committed "You're right. I've never heard it."
Wait. What ?
That's it? After all that buildup? Okay, so obviously the buildup was only on my end. But in any case, I feel disappointment. Really Molly, what did you expect? He's a guy. And all this talk of kissing has me hot and bothered . For real,I wouldn't fight him off if he suddenly decided to ravish me with kisses. After all, I haven't been kissed in ages, and I've almost forgotten what it feels like. And I'm not really sure what to say at this point, so I just continue eating my half eaten meal, which has gotten cold during our conversation.
I rack my ravaged brain for a safe topic. "So,Weston. How did the scrimmage go today?"
There. Safe enough.
His eyebrows shoot up. "You weren't there?" he says and stops chewing. Obviously he's surprised - I can tell by the look on his face.
On second thought, maybe not such a safe topic...
"I was working . But... I usually don't go to the games, no." I can see by his confused expression that this is a foreign concept. He tips his head to the side, like a cocker spaniel. A girl not following his every move? Shocking! "Why do you seem so surprised?"
"Why not?" he asks. His plate is completely empty so he picks up his glass of water, picks out the straw and, tipping his head back, chugs it downs.
I can't help but admire the muscles of his collar bone, and the smooth area of skin just visible above the 'V' neck of the raggedy tee shirt.
He sets his glass down with a loud 'thunk' and the abrupt sound snaps me out of my perusal.
"Why not what?" Earth to Molly .
"Why do you usually not come to the games?"
I shrug. "I just... don't. I just don't think they're that big a deal."
Weston's dark eyes bore into me like I've just delivered an insult. I can tell he's fighting back a sarcastic remark because the muscles in his clenched jaw tick. "Not a big deal?"
I study him for a moment. His nostrils flare.
Testosterone much?
"You want the truth? Here it is: I prefer
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