Page 7 of His Secret

I let out a nervous laugh. “No.”

“Come on. I saw the way you two were laughing together.”

“I’m really not interested. Areyouinto her or something?”

“Me? No. No, no. She’s the ex-girlfriend of one of my friends. That feels wrong.”

Wanting to change the subject from Penelope, girls, and dating in general, I scan the room hoping to find something to talk about. He’s got a calendar on the wall that holds a photo of a bikini-clad woman, so I keep scanning. There’s a South River University flag on the wall surrounded by some football memorabilia. His desk is littered with papers, but his mirror has photos tucked in the sides, so I walk over there.

There’s one of him holding a football with a girl standing next to him. There’s a group photo of him and his friends, another one of the same girl from the other picture, except this time she’s alone. There’s a picture of a dog next to one ofAdrian and the same dog when they were both younger and smaller.

“Is this your dog?”

“Yeah. Well, my parents’ dog, I guess. They got it when I was a kid, so I’ve grown up with him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Tyson.”

“He’s cute.”

“The girl is my sister,” he offers.

“Oh. What’s her name?”

“Amelia.”

“So, are you trying to go pro?” I ask, finally turning around to face him.

He snorts. “That would be a dream, but it’s just that.”

“You’re not good?”

Adrian laughs, putting his open beer on the nightstand before standing up. “I’m good.”

“What uhh…part do you play?”

His smile stretches across his face. “I play the defensive endpart. A linebacker,” he adds with a shrug, like that’s supposed to help.

“Ah,” I say with a nod.

He removes his T-shirt, his undershirt lifting in the process and showing off his torso. After tossing it into a hamper in the corner, he kicks off his shoes.

“So,” I say, swallowing and looking away. “If not football, what are your plans?”

Adrian sighs. “Business with my dad. He has a company, and I already have a job lined up as long as I pass my classes and graduate.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.”

“I guess,” he says, propping himself up against the pillows on his bed. “What about you?”

I shift and knock something off his dresser. “Oops. Sorry.”

I bend down and pick it up and then just stand in the middle of the room. “Well, I?—”

Adrian laughs. “Why do you look so uncomfortable?”

With a little shake of my head, I say, “Uhh. I am.”