He shook his head. “So God only knows what I said and did, and I must’ve said something, because you didn’t want to get in this Jeep with me.”
Part of me wanted to punch him in the balls even though I knew beyond a doubt that he’d been drunk—drunk enough to have no recollection of telling me that I was a reason for why he’d visited Cam so much or our little interlude on the floor. It took a lot for me not to blast him over that, but what point would it serve? He’d been sloshed, and I had been the one who went out to meet him and then let him in my dorm. All this was temporary, and I couldn’t let this make an already crappy situation worse.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You didn’t do or say anything to make me mad.”
He didn’t respond for a moment. “But I slept on your floor and you slept on the couch?”
“Yeah . . . uh, you sort of fell down and stayed there.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I fell asleep on the couch.”
“Nice.” He coughed out a short laugh. Several seconds passed, and I considered making a mad dash out of the car. “We’re friends, right?”
My heart sunk in spite of my convictions on the state of him and me. “Yes.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, friends give friends rides, right?”
I nodded, knowing where this conversation was heading.
“So what’s the big deal?”
Looking away, I blew out a long breath. Spending any amount of time in his presence didn’t help my determination to put an end to this stupid crush, but there was another reason. “I don’t want people thinking . . .” Picking at the hem of my shorts, I shook my head. “There’re a lot of things I can’t do right now—dance, work out, run, or even jog at a sedate pace. I can walk. That’s about all I can do.”
I kind of felt stupid after saying that and I doubted he’d understand how hard it was for me to go from being so active to becoming a sloth. And not even the cute baby sloths.
“Ah, here I was thinking you were secretly hoping I’d pick you up.” He switched gears into reverse.
I laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You’d never be a disappointment.” Looking over his shoulder as he backed up, he smiled, and I wondered if he could see the way my pulse had jumped at his words. “I get what you’re saying. It’s hard when you’re used to doing something that was as common as breathing to you.”
“It is.” I tugged on the string dangling off my hem. “I miss the rush of dancing and running. You know? The energy. It’s calming and it’s just me . . .” I wasn’t sure I was making any sense. “And I don’t have that anymore.”
Shifting into drive, he relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. He was quiet as he navigated the parking lot. “You know there are other things you could do.”
Like sex? I bet that was relaxing when it was all said and done.
“You know one of the most calming things I’ve found?” he asked, having no idea that my mind was happily playing in the gutter. “Horseback riding.”
I blinked. “Ah . . .”
He grinned. “There really isn’t anything like it. I’m telling you, Tess. You ever feel like you’re flying when you’re dancing?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, sort of stunned. I missed that most of all.
He nodded. “That’s how it feels to be on top of a horse. You should try it. I think you’d love it.”
I shifted, having no idea what to say to that. Was it an invitation to his parents’ farm? Did it matter? Getting in a saddle was tantamount to playing chicken with a pissed-off T. rex to me.
“Hungry?” he asked, changing the subject before I could answer. “I’m heading over to the Den. Cam and Avery are there. They’ve got to have better food than the dining hall.”
They did. I shrugged.
“Come on.” He reached over, nudging my arm. “Come on and eat with us.”
My lips twitched as I glanced at him. This . . . this was the Jase I remembered. Teasing. Open. Fun. Someone I could talk to and be honest with. As stupid as it was, I found myself wishing that he’d remembered what had happened after he stepped into my dorm. Then again, it was probably better that he didn’t. “I don’t want to come across as the little sister tagging along.”
“You’re not.”
I shot him a dry as sand look. “I’ve tagged along half of my life. I followed him to college.”
“You didn’t follow him, Tess.” He paused as he slowed for the stop sign, glancing over at me. That half grin was back. “And guess what?”
My lips responded, curving up at the corners. “What?”
“He doesn’t care if you did follow him here. He’s happy that you’re here,” he said. “I don’t care if you did follow him. And I’m happy that you did.”
Five