Page 31 of Tripped Up

Blowing out a breath, I click on his name, and my phone rings out with a dial tone. The call connects on the second ring.

“Elsy?” His voice is hoarse, the roughness sending heat rushing through me. That night… his just been fucked voice sounds a lot like this. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I pick at a loose thread on my throw blanket.

“You’re calling me. Something’s wrong.”

This was a mistake.

“It was an accident. I’m hanging up now.”

But I don’t move the phone away from my ear.

His throaty chuckle does funny things to my heart rate. “No, you’re not,” he says, his voice soft, with an undercurrent of authority that makes my stomach clench.

“No, I’m not,” I agree.

A rustle sounds on the other end. “So what’s going on?”

My face heats. “I’m bored,” I finally admit. “Do you want to do something?”

My heart pounds like I’ve run a marathon. Anxiety spikes within me, but it’s not a panic attack, only run-of-the-mill worry. I don’t think I can handle it if he says no. I know he’s going to mock me for this.

“I’m in Dallas,” Wyatt says. It almost sounds like he’s upset about that. “I get back tomorrow morning. Do you…” He clears his throat. “Would you like to hang out tomorrow?”

“I can do that,” I whisper.

“Great,” he says. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Whoa. I wouldn’t go that far.” I laugh. “It’s only hanging out. Don’t propose or anything.”

“Elsy,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “When I propose, it won’t be a surprise.”

My stomach swoops. He said when. Not if. What does that mean? We’re not dating. We’re not anything. In fact, I hate him. Does that mean he’s thought about proposing to me, though?

No. That’s ridiculous. He can’t stand me, just like I can’t stand him. He must be talking about a girlfriend.

“Are you dating anyone?”

He coughs. “Yeah, her name is hockey,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh.”

“It’s kind of hard to have an actual relationship when I’m on the road so much.” He sounds… regretful. “I haven’t tried it in a few seasons. I usually stick to a friends-with-benefits situation.”

“Oh.” I don’t know how to respond to that.

“Why, are you offering?” He laughs, like the idea is so ludicrous, he can’t possibly imagine it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snap. “You and I are never going to sleep together.”

Not again. I won’t let myself be hurt that way ever again.

Silence falls over the line, the sound of his breathing steady and sure. It should be awkward, but it’s not. It’s strangely comforting knowing he’s on the other end of the phone.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”