Resist Me

Chapter 19

Lincoln

Clearly, I’d lost my damn mind. Some sort of sickness had infiltrated my hypothalamus or some other bullshit part of my brain. I texted West earlier, just like Willow wanted me to, and here I was feeling upset that he’d left me on read.

I needed a lobotomy. This was West Densmore. I could not develop feelings for him. Was I starting to already? Fucking hell. If I’d never let him sleep at my house, it probably would’ve been fine. He dropped that bomb about his sexuality, it opened up the possibility, and now, I’d become a pathetic mess.

If I tried to hang out with him, he’d laugh in my face. Letting him find out what was happening would be the greatest mistake of my life unless he somehow returned the feelings, which was extremely unlikely. Probably impossible. The way he’d acted in the library might’ve been enough to convince me that the guy really did hate me, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe that was the case. Especially after what Willow told me, I wondered if he even made a conscious decision to lash out and push people away. Maybe it was a learned behavior that became a habit or a self-defense mechanism .

Willow’s statement about toxicity came back to me with a vengeance. I was stuck on a guy with enough red flags to carpet a Met Gala. He was also weirdly endearing, though. He was bright- annoyingly so, but still.

Like the pathetic person I was, I had a football in my hand and was on my way to the field. There were a million places he could be, but there was a chance he’d be there. If he was, it’d just be a coincidence. Maybe we could take the opportunity to practice or something since it’d be convenient.

Yup. Everything was totally fine here.

It was pretty late, so it wasn’t surprising that the field was empty. Most of the guys were staying on top of practice on their own, but they were also rightfully enjoying the break. There’d been a few times I’d come here since the season ended. The solitude on the field was peaceful. It was such a familiar place to me and there was a certain comfort to it.

With a sigh, I threw the ball. As I ran to pick it up, I found myself pulling out my phone. When I tapped his contact, my stomach constricted nervously. The music in my ear paused while I waited for him to answer.

“What is this?” he asked.

My mouth felt dry now. He sounded annoyed, but for some reason, it made me smile.

“Where are you at?”

There was a solid five seconds of silence. “Why?”

“I’m on the field.”

“And why should that matter to me?”

“Stop answering everything with a question. You gonna join me or are you too afraid for me to prove I’m better than you?”

“I’m at home.”

“I’ll call you an Uber.” I pulled up the app and typed in the information. “It’ll be there in three minutes.”

“But…”

“Come or don’t. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

Before he could respond, I ended the call. My heart was racing, but it was also fun to push his buttons. To him, I was competition. There was no way he wouldn’t at least consider my challenge .

When the app said he’d been picked up, it felt like I’d accomplished something. While I waited, I ran lines. My shirt was soaked through by the time I stopped to take a break, so I peeled it off and tossed it to the side. The drizzle suddenly turned into more of a downpour and I looked up at the sky, letting it wash away the sweat on my face.

“Put your nipples away. That’s gross.”

“Is it?” I asked without looking at him.

When he didn’t respond, I picked up the football and quickly turned to throw it at him. He backpedaled and caught it. His expression was blank as he held it between two hands, just staring at me. Something was eating at him and I was dying to hear about it.

No, Linc. You cannot fix him.

“Come on, West. Practice with me.”

He shook his head. “Practicing with you is the last thing I want.”

“Hm. You’re here, though.”

“I was bored.”

“You’re good, you know. Great, actually.” His lips parted, then he licked them. Did I want to lick them? I wasn’t going to answer that shit. “But there are a few things I can teach you before you no longer have access to my wealth of knowledge.”

“Doubtful.” Despite his statement, he threw the ball.

“Suit yourself. It’s your last chance.”

“Fine. Fuck. You’re annoying.”

“Just returning the favor.”

He mocked me like a teenager and I couldn’t help but smile.

“So, you gonna come to the party tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s boring. Jessi will probably be there,” I teased.

He scowled. “Another reason not to go.”

“I hella respect what you did that night.”

His arm paused as he pulled it back to throw. A few different expressions passed over his face. For a second, I thought he’d become agreeable, but he settled back into something sour. He threw the ball extra hard and I had to shake out my hand.

“Prickly much? What’s eating at you?”

“Nothing and if there was, I wouldn’t tell you about it.”

“We could have that duel if you want,” I suggested .

“We need swords or something.”

“Get creative.”

“Can I punch you in the face?” he asked.

“If you can manage it.”

Suddenly, he grinned. He approached me casually. There was no way I’d fall for that, so I planted my feet firmly, which was difficult in the wet grass. When he was a few yards away, I threw the ball at him. He caught it instinctively, giving me the chance to charge him and get my hands around his middle. I knocked him onto his back and he swore.

The crazy bastard tried to headbutt me and I narrowly avoided it. His knee connected with my stomach, then he got me onto my back, but he slipped in the mud. When he landed on my chest, I started laughing. I was shocked when he did the same.

It took me a moment to realize that my fingers were pressed against his side. I dropped my arm and lowered my head to the grass. He rolled onto his back beside me and covered his forehead with the back of his hand. It was raining heavily, but neither of us moved.

“That was anticlimactic,” he noted.

“Maybe I’ll let you try again when the weather is better.”

He grabbed the ball from the ground and started throwing it in the air. “Why aren’t you acting like a dick?”

I rolled my head to the side so that I could look at him. From this angle, his high cheekbones were extremely noticeable. When you were facing him directly, it was impossible not to be drawn in by his eyes, but now I found myself studying his other features individually. Water dripped down his temple and made a path to his jaw.

After blowing out a long raspberry, I looked at the sky again. “I act like a dick when you act like a dick.”

“You hated me the moment you saw me.”

My brow furrowed. “No.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn onto his side, so I did the same. We were a foot from each other, but it might as well have only been inches. Did he feel this tension too or was I just weak and lost in him? It was the eyes; it had to be. The fact that he didn’t seem to mind my nearness, though, reignited my earlier thoughts. If I was to shoot my shot, what would happen? I wasn’t keen on getting rejected by the likes of him, so I refrained from doing or saying anything stupid.

“My dad,” he said suddenly. “That’s why I’m in a mood.”

“Mm. I should’ve guessed it was daddy issues.”

He snorted a laugh. “What’s your deal, then? Mommy issues?”

“No issues for me.”

“Maybe you’d be more interesting otherwise.”

“Probably. Or I’d get drunk more often and make embarrassing phone calls. What’d I even say to you?”

He shrugged. “Not a lot. You got my Christmas card I sent to the frat house and you were mad about all the pictures that fell out.”

I groaned. “I can’t believe you printed so many pictures of balls.”

“It got under your skin, so it was worth the horror I endured. You said you were tired of me fucking with you and I should, ‘Take my pretty fucking face and go back where I came from.’ That was a direct quote.”

Biting my lip, I was torn between feeling amused or embarrassed.

“Well, you’re very pretty,” I said, enjoying the way his cheeks flushed. “It’s a good thing you’re not my type.”

His eyes rolled dramatically. “I still think you’re lying.”

“Maybe.” With a conspiratorial wink, I got to my feet. When I held out my hand, he eyed it for a moment, then grabbed it and let me pull him up. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what happened at the game. I really didn’t know he was going to do something like that.”

His expression went blank and he shrugged. “I told you we’re cool.” With a frown, he looked up at the sky. “I don’t think we’re gonna get any practice in. I should head home.”

“I can drive you.”

Shaking his head, he stepped back. “Nah, I’m good. It’s not a long walk. See ya. And, uh, thanks for the ride here. It was actually nice to get out of the house for a bit.”

“Sure.”

I continued to watch him until he was off the field. It was impossible to know if this was a step toward peace or just a fluke like at my place. West was one of the hardest people to read.

Maybe I should keep pushing him if he let me. I guess I’d just have to play it by ear. It wasn’t even about entertaining the feelings that may or may not be growing. I actually enjoyed his company when we weren’t at each other’s throats and for me, that was pretty rare. If he got to a place where he wanted to be friends, I thought we’d get along in a way I didn’t with most people. At the same time, it was likely we’d just be stuck in this endless cycle of nice encounters followed by aggression.

I was overthinking it. Instead of continuing, I started running again to clear my head. There was nothing better to do.