Catching Liam (Good Girls Don't) (5 page)

chapter eight

I was ten minutes late to meet Jess at Garrett’s for pizza night, which was nothing new. Save for the weird incident in Markson’s class a few weeks ago, I hadn’t been on time since I’d gotten out from under Tara’s roof. It was probably some form of subconscious rebellion at the near-military precision with which she ran the family schedule. But being late meant that Jess was probably buried under a mountain of books, and when I found her in the side booth, she was poring over anatomy notes.

“Sorry,” I said breathlessly.

Jess waved off my apology but didn’t bother to look up. This was why I needed to be on time when I met up with her. Cassie had texted to say she couldn’t make it, which meant it was my lone responsibility to get Jess to think about something besides blood types and autoimmune diseases for the next hour. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“Did you order?” I asked her, and she shook her head.

Waving at Frank who was wiping down the bar, I held up two fingers. “The usual!”

I folded my arms on the table and rested my chin on them, so I could stare her down. “Can you tell me what a penis is?”

Jess barely cracked a smile. This was an old game, and she’d built up a little bit of an immunity to my shenanigans in the last year. I racked my head for any number of the ridiculous questions Jess had shared from her anatomy class. Since most students thought anatomy was simple memorization, pre-med types like Jess were always getting stuck in there with slackers who wanted to avoid Biology.

“Do girls have testicles?” I asked her. That was my favorite one. I still didn’t know if a boy or a girl had asked the question. I didn’t have the heart to ask.

“You better have a big old set if you keep interrupting me,” Jess said, but she was definitely grinning.

“How do girls pee when they’re on their periods?”

Jess slammed the book shut and laughed. “You win. I’ll stop.”

“That was only three questions,” I said, puffing my chest out. “I think that’s a record.”

“I need a break from studying. I’m actually dreaming that I’m reading my textbooks. With my luck, I’m going to answer one of my midterms with something from one of them.”

“In your dreams, do girls have balls?” I asked her. Frank slapped two beers down on our table.

“I’m not going to ask you girls what you’re talking about,” he said, throwing a bar towel over his shoulder and shaking his head as he left.

“No, but the other day, I woke up convinced that I’d dissected a deer.”

I gagged on my beer and scowled at her. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“It was a dream,” she reminded me. “I didn’t actually do it, but the dream was so real that I thought I did. My professor was there and my labmate. When I woke up, I was almost sick over it.”

“You do know what you’ll have to do when you’re a doctor, right?” Dead bodies were pretty par for the course in her field.

“Of course, I know that. But the lab is different than seeing deer guts when I close my eyes.” Despite our conversation, Jess grabbed for a slice of pizza as soon as Frank slid the tray onto the table.

“Hot!” he warned.

“Jess has an unnatural ability to withstand heat,” I assured him.

“I don’t have time to wait for things to cool down.” That was the understatement of the century. Jess could pack away more food in five minutes than most teenage boys I’d met in my lifetime.

“It’s like you were biologically programmed to be a doctor,” I said as I watched her down half of a steaming slice. I couldn’t even pick a piece up without burning my fingers.

“Thanks!”

“So you won’t believe what Markson is making me do.” I told her about the project he assigned to us today.

“I did that one,” Jess said. “Of course, I was partnered with a girl, and I hadn’t slept with her.”

“Exactly! And it’s painfully obvious that we’ve done it,” I said to her. “Liam has spilled enough in front of Markson that he has to know.”

“Roman won’t care.” Jess reached for another piece.

“Roman?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Professor Markson.” She almost managed to hide her blush, but not quite.

“Now I see why you liked the class.”

“That’s not it,” she said, but her words were defensive.

“What did you do on your date...um, your project?” I asked her. After her shenanigans with Liam, she didn’t deserve a free pass over Markson, but I gave her one anyway.

“I can’t remember exactly, although she planned most of it because, you know, I’m a control freak.”

I nodded, and Jess kicked me under the table.

“Hey! I was just being supportive,” I said, leaning down to rub the affected area. “Shit, Jess, are you wearing steel-toed boots?”

“I think we went to a football game, actually. Sara and I had a lot in common, so it was kinda hard for us.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. I need enough material to warrant 40% of my grade.” I screwed my face up. I didn’t relish the idea of analyzing Liam for two hours. It felt too much like a real date. Although I would be trying to figure out how to meet his
interpersonal needs
instead of wondering if he liked me. I wasn’t sure what the difference was exactly.

“It’ll be fun. You can always make stuff up,” Jess suggested.

“Is that what you do? Do humans now have opposable toes?” I made a grab for her textbook like I was going to check.

“Get it done early in case you need to meet up later and come up with more stuff for the paper.”

“I think we’re meeting tonight,” I said in a soft voice. I wasn’t sure I wanted Jess to hear where I was going after this.

“
Oh really.
You two kids be safe.” She winked at me as she wiped pizza sauce off her fingers.

“Not a date! There will be no funny business,” I said.

“You forget that I’ve seen Liam. If you can keep your hands off him, then you’re a better person than I am.” Jess stood and gathered her books while I finished my last few bites. Our dinners always ended like this: with me shoveling food in my mouth because she had to be somewhere. Just once, I wanted to be the one with somewhere to rush off to. Maybe if I picked out a major that would happen.

“Isn’t this whole project a chance to get out of my comfort zone? I would be much more comfortable taking him to bed than going out in public with him.”

“I’m sure that’s what every guy wants to hear,” Jess said.

We both paused and then met each other’s eyes. I was the one who said it, “Actually, it probably is. Yet another reason I’m not going to bed with him.”

“It’s cool.” Jess checked her phone screen. “It’s too early anyway.”

“What do you mean?” I asked her, and then it dawned on me in horrifying clarity. “Do you have bets on when I’ll go to bed with him again?”

“No!” Jess answered too quickly, and I grabbed for her phone. “Okay! Maybe!”

“You disgust me,” I said, trying hard to sound serious.

“If you can hold out another week, I’ll split the pot with you.”

“What do I win?” I asked her.

“A latte at Coffee & Cream.”

“Wow. Big money.” Still winning was winning. “Deal.
If
I go back to bed with him, I’ll hold out.”

“Excellent,” Jess chirped. “A week! Don’t forget!”

“Got it,” I promised absent-mindedly, too caught up in texting Liam that I was ready. All the while thinking that this was one bet both of them were going to lose.

chapter nine

Liam had a plan of action by the time I reached him, which was excellent since I didn’t have any ideas. I was to pick him up at his host family’s house, and he would take it over from there. It wasn’t exactly a ground-breaking reversal of gender roles but it felt like a nice give and take. His host family’s house sat on the edge of campus in an old neighborhood that was an eclectic blend of bungalows, stone Tudors and small mansions. Nearly all the houses were occupied by professors, except one lonely street that boasted Greek housing.

Stars peppered the night sky and a thumbnail moon peeked from behind the clouds when I got to the address he provided. The perfectly restored Queen Anne wasn’t the biggest house on the block, but it was close. I hesitated for a moment, tugging at my sweater, before I finally found the courage to ring the doorbell.

A petite redhead threw open the door and grabbed my hands. The hair around her temples was graying, which, other than a few light lines around her eyes, was the only indication of her age. “You must be Jillian. Liam is expecting you.”

“Vivian!” Liam’s voice called from somewhere in the depths of the house.

“He’s worried I’ll embarrass him.” Vivian draped an arm around my shoulder and walked me down the hall. The house was tastefully decorated with expensive antiques and Persian rugs, and I felt more out of place than ever as I treaded on them in my worn-out TOMS. “But I’ve promised to stay out of your hair. I’m just thrilled he’s brought a girl over. He’s quite the catch, don’t you think?”

I managed not to grimace at the thought. “Liam and I are class partners.”

“Oh, I know. He told me, but I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

I suddenly wished a large sinkhole would open in the floor and suck me through it. How much had Liam told this woman about our relationship? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but it was clear that she viewed me as a romantic possibility.

“You two sound...close,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Are you related?”

“Heavens no! My husband helped to arrange Liam’s year in the States. He’s a biology professor at Olympic State. Dr. Kemp?” She waited as if expecting me to know the name.

“I haven’t taken many science classes,” I admitted.

“Neither did I,” Vivian whispered, as though we were part of some conspiracy. “I’m more artsy.” She pointed to a large canvas hanging on the wall. I recognized the sweeping expanse of Olympic Bay carefully captured in soft brushstrokes.

“It’s lovely,” I said as she steered me out of the hall and into the kitchen. Liam was busily stirring a pot over the stove, but he looked up and shot me a grin.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“I am making you dinner,” he said.

“Why?” I couldn’t contain the question even though it came out more rudely than I had intended.

Vivian, perhaps sensing the tension in the air between Liam and I, clutched my hand one last time, disappearing into the hallway with a “it was so nice to meet you” before I could respond.

“As as I see it, cooking dinner for a woman upends gender expectations. But cooking dinner for you is the perfect way to tend to your needs,” he said, holding up a spoon.

I slurped the sauce off it cautiously, nodding my approval, even though I didn’t see how this met my needs at all. I needed to write a paper, not go on a date, and cooking dinner for me felt very much like a date. “I’m not sure I follow your logic.”

“You don’t have to,” he said with a shrug. “I’m the one who has to write the paper.”

He had a point, but that didn’t help me with my paper. How was I supposed to get material for my own paper with Liam babying me all night? I watched as he pulled bread from the oven and considered what he needed from me at the moment. Markson’s whole point for this assignment was to force me to consider what the other person needed based on what I knew about him.

I thought back to the first activity we did together. Liam came from a large family, full of women, and apparently he spent a lot of time in the kitchen.

“How can I help you?” I asked him, seizing on the most productive way to deal with the situation.

“You can set the table,” he suggested.

As he finished cooking the pasta, I opened cabinets and drawers looking for plates and utensils. It was a relief that he hadn’t gone over-the-top and presented me with a fancy, laid out dinner. There was something easy and natural about being in the kitchen with him like this. We moved like clockwork around each other as I pulled forks from the drawer, and he grabbed a salad from the fridge. When we sat down a few minutes later, I dug into the pasta, surprised by how well-cooked it was. It seemed Liam’s talents were not confined to waffle-making.

“This is really good,” I said as I tore off a hunk of bread and sopped up some of the sauce with it.

“You sound surprised.” Liam poured wine into two glasses and brought them over to us.

“I thought the waffles might be a hat trick,” I said. “You know, that one thing you can do to impress girls.”

Liam smirked as he took a sip of wine. “I’d like to think I have many ways to impress girls.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching me eat, with more than casual interest. Meanwhile, I tried to ignore the strip of exposed skin right over his stomach where his fitted shirt had ridden up.

“So Vivian seems nice,” I said in an attempt to change the subject.

“She’s great,” he said. “Housing cost almost prevented me from coming this year, but she and Dr. Kemp offered to let me stay here. Their son started grad school this fall, so I think they like having me around. She was very chuffed that you were coming tonight.”

“I’m an only child, and my parents wouldn’t even let me have sleepovers. I’m always surprised that there are people that like having me around,” I admitted, immediately wishing I could take it back. The confession made me even more vulnerable to him, and I didn’t like it.

“Your parents sound like real pieces of work. I can’t even imagine my parents making me feel that way.”

“Obviously, you have like twenty sisters, right?” It was one of the things I remembered from our earlier class assignment.

“Five,” he said with a laugh. “But sometimes it feels like twenty.”

“I hope you have more than one bathroom in your house.”

“We have two. Why do you think I came to the States?” he asked, brushing his arm against mine as he reached for the garlic bread.

The small gesture did funny things to my stomach, and I laid my fork down, not sure I could eat another bite.

“Done?” he asked, his hand reaching out to grab my plate.

“Yes. It was delicious, just as good as your waffles.”

“I don’t know about that.” Liam stood and moved to the sink. He rinsed the plate and bent over the dishwasher, revealing his tight ass. I couldn’t look away even as Jess’s words flashed through my mind:
Remember! A week!

Except I wasn’t going to sleep with him. That would send him the wrong message, and between our conversations in class and tonight’s dinner, I was increasingly convinced that Liam was a relationship kind of guy. I stacked the rest of the dishes from the table and carried them to him in a bid to distract myself from staring at his ass any longer.

“Thanks,” he said, taking them from me. “I got this.”

“I’ll help,” I offered, but when I reached for a glass, it tumbled from my hand, shattering across the floor. I cursed and bent to start collecting the pieces.

“Let me,” he said, retrieving a broom from the pantry.

“I’m really sorry. I’m so clumsy.” I didn’t add that I wasn’t just a helpless clutz. I had a real reason for my clumsiness, but that was one thing I didn’t want to wind up in his paper.

“It’s just a glass, Jillian. Sit down so you don’t get glass in your shoes.”

I looked down at my TOMS and realized he had a point, so I watched as he swept up my accident. As soon as he was done, I jumped up and turned on the faucet, filling the sink with soapy water for the pots.

“You don’t listen, do you?” he asked.

I pointed to the pasta pot, and he passed it to me. “I don’t like feeling useless.”

I left it at that, not bothering to explain that my body made me feel useless on a near daily basis. It was only going to get worse, too, so I might as well do as much as I could now before I became dependent on other people to do things for me.

“You are practically writing this paper for me.” He moved next to me and took the washed pot from me to rinse.

“Am I that full of neurosis?” I asked him, reaching for the next pan.

“It’s not a psych class.”

“It might as well be. We’re supposed to spend all of our time analyzing each other,” I pointed out.

“And what have you discovered about me?” he asked.

I bit my lip, unsure how to answer. Despite how worried I’d been about spending the night analyzing Liam, I hadn’t done much of it. I’d been too obsessed with what he was thinking about me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t come up with something. “You love your family, and you have a lot of respect for women.”

“You got all that from spaghetti?” he asked, bumping his elbow into my side.

“You cook and you help do dishes. I’m not sure my Dad knows how to turn on the dishwasher,” I said.

“Perhaps I’m trying to lure an unsuspecting woman to my bed by pretending I like to do dishes,” he suggested.

I splashed some water at him. “One: I don’t buy that. I think you like to do dishes. Two: I suspect your motives deeply, so your plan is foiled.”

“Curses.” Liam snapped his fingers. “It’s not such a bad thing to make something that’s dirty clean again.”

I burst into laughter, barely able to stay upright.

“I know, I know. That’s what she said.”

“You sound like an evangelical minister,” I teased him when I could speak again.

“I would do the sign of the cross, but, you know, blasphemy,” he said in a serious tone.

“Are you Catholic?” The question jumped out of me.

“I think you know better than to ask me that,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not really religious.”

“Me either.”

We finished the dishes, and I lingered at the edge of the sink, unsure if I should stay or go.

“Another glass of wine?” he offered.

“No,” I said. It didn’t seem like a good idea to stay for another drink. “I should get home.”

“Early class?”

“Yeah.” It was a lie. I never scheduled classes before noon if I could help it, but sticking around with Liam would almost certainly result in Cassie winning the bet, especially if more wine was involved.

“Can I walk you home?” he offered.

“I’m fine. I’m only a block away.” Of course, Liam already knew that. I wanted to avoid the awkward parting at my door, and it wasn’t late enough to warrant an escort home.

Liam followed me to the door, pausing as he opened it for me. “We should do this again sometime.”

“I don’t think Markson will ask us to go on any more dates. I mean, do more projects,” I backpedalled.
This was not a date
, I reminded myself as I ducked through the open door.

“That’s a shame. I like seeing you outside of class,” he said, stepping out behind me.

The awkward pause came anyway, despite refusing his offer to walk me home. Neither of us seemed to know what to say. If I told him I liked seeing him outside of class too, he would certainly make an effort to make it happen again. But I had a bigger problem than that. I liked the idea of seeing him again. His dinner invitation tempted me too much. That’s why I had to get out of here.

“Thank you for dinner,” I said, turning to face him.

He hesitated and then reached out and ran a finger down my face. “I will make you dinner any time. Breakfast, if you’ll let me.”

My breath caught in my throat as I struggled for something to say in response to this. I should put a stop to whatever was shifting between us right now, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I murmured a good-bye and flew down the sidewalk, safely out of his reach. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Liam McAvoy any more. I only knew I should stay away from him, even as I realized that I didn’t want to.