“That’s a crying shame,” he said, smiling. “No.… Bryce,” he said, snapping his fingers.
“Grace’s boyfriend. Trying to decide if he’s going to make something of himself or not.”
“He’s got the gleam in his eyes. Said he was going to talk to the recruiter today.”
“Good for him.”
“You want to keep him away from Grace?”
“I’ve got nothing against Bryce, personally,” she said carefully, all teacher as she gathered their plates and silverware. “He could pay more attention to his homework, lose some of the attitude. Grace is my concern. She’s smart, works hard, not much of a chance in the WNBA, but basketball will get her a degree, and a shot at a life better than her mom’s. That’s harder to do if she’s got a baby.” She rinsed one plate, set it in the sink, and reached for the other. “Want me to drop you somewhere?”
“Nah,” he said, lacing up his shoes. “I’ll walk back to the park and take the stairs up the Hill.”
Silence greeted this remark. He looked up at her. “Charlie. I’m an adult. You’re an adult. There is no walk of shame in this.”
He’d never seen fear on Charlie’s face before. Check that. He’d seen it all the time, but her also saw her fighting the fear, hurling herself against the barrier until it fell over. “I signed a contract,” she said. “One that includes a moral turpitude clause.”
“You’re not allowed to have a relationship?”
“I’m supposed to be discreet. Set a good example for students and players.”
“In what way is this a bad example?” he asked, suddenly pissed. “We’re adults. We had protected, safe, consensual sex. Pretending adults don’t have sex outside of marriage is so far outside most East Side kids’ experience you might as well tell them fairy tales.”
“I want this. I really, really want this. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“This isn’t screwing it up. This is—” he stopped abruptly, because he didn’t know what “this” was. He knew what he wanted “this” to be, but he’d never asked her.
He hadn’t planned out this conversation, and the way she was glaring at him right now, all but challenging him, she’d just as likely tell him it was over as jump into his arms with joy. And what was he offering her anyway? The chance at a long-distance relationship, which he already knew she thought was doomed to fail? He’d never expected her to be as committed as she was to Lancaster.
A tactical mistake on his part.
“You are the only one,” she said, quiet, confessing. Before he got out of the car. “Just you. Since I moved back,” she added, lifting her chin, proud and honest.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just … wanted … I wanted to reassure you. You have to know I don’t think you’re—”
“Like my mom? I know you don’t,” she said. “I overreacted. Not your fault. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t kiss her good-bye, not after that conversation. Instead, he patted her muscled thigh, and got out of her car, thinking of Ian’s question earlier in the week. Jamie knew Charlie wasn’t like her mother. But did Charlie?
He waited, the door open, her engine running, one eye on the clock. It felt fragile, what was happening between them. So many ways it could go wrong, and he hadn’t factored in the good old-fashioned open-mouth-insert-foot method of fucking things up. Torn, he hesitated, then went with his gut.
“When are you going shopping?”
“After school. The garden party is tomorrow. The banquet is Saturday night. I’ve left this until the last possible minute. Time to pay the piper.”
“Pick me up? We can get dinner afterward,” he said lightly.
“You’re serious.”
“As a bomb,” he said. As a fool in love, he thought.
“Fine. It’s your evening,” she said. “Now get out of my car. You’re making me late.”
He laughed, and shut the door. By the time she was out of the parking lot, he was a third of the way up the stairs leading to the Hill.
Chapter Five
“Looking fine, Coach,” Grace drawled as she walked out of seventh-period Algebra II. “Very fine.”