Page 26 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

As for telling her… I don’t love the idea of keeping this a secret.

It’s not like we tell each other everything, per se, but she’s always going to be my number one confidant, and this could severely impact her life too.

If she and Adam were to find out, there’s a chance it could ruin their marriage, or at the very least, put a lot of strain on it.

But they aren’t going to find out, I remind myself.

Pending Theo was being honest, whatever fear or confusion sent him packing from New England isn’t going to have the same effect after actually hooking up. But there’s no way to be sure. Especially with Miles and Torin catching us.

All I can do is take him at his word and pray like hell I won’t come to regret it.

Releasing a sigh, I offer Miles the best response I can. “She doesn’t know about any of this, and I’m not gonna tell her. Not unless I have to.”

His brows shoot up. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises lately.”

So it seems.

I’m sure as hell surprising myself too, so I can’t blame him for thinking it.

A low groan slips past my lips, and I bury my face in my palms. “This really is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, isn’t it?”

“It’s definitely up there,” he agrees, not being the type to sugarcoat the truth.

Scrubbing my palms over my face, I lift my gaze to find his again. The surprise and amusement are still very evident in the tiny smirk on his lips and his glimmering eyes, but I don’t miss the hint of sympathy he aims my way too.

“You and Tore already know, which is what it is, but can we just…not loop Vaughn in quite yet?” I hedge, feeling guilty for even asking it.

None of us like secrets in the Core Four—it’s a surefire way to make all these years’ worth of trust we’ve built crumble to ruins—but Vaughn is just…

Vaughn. He’d want to know every single detail that went down, more so than Miles just did, and he wouldn’t let it rest until he was satisfied he’d uncovered every one.

Miles shoots me a knowing smirk. “Not looking to face a full-fledged interrogation, complete with cavity search?”

“I’d prefer not.”

“Fair enough.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Though from the sounds of it, you and Theo are heading in that direction anyway.”

My morning goes by rather quickly, my first class being a breeze before hitting the gym for a quick lifting session. The only thing standing between me and fielding drills at the practice facility is my hour-long lecture on the Revolutionary War era.

Sometimes I wonder why I chose to take a ton of history classes as electives, but the information we’re given on this unit is so easily digestible, I usually just sit back and listen rather than take notes.

But today, my mind seems hell-bent on wandering aimlessly instead of hearing anything Professor Rittenhouse is saying.

No, wandering aimlessly isn’t quite right.

It sprints in a straight line until it reaches the events of last night, and it sits there, replaying the encounter on a loop. Every time I catch myself daydreaming about it, I revert my focus back to the lecture, but it doesn’t take long for me to end up right back there again.

After twenty minutes of this, annoyance starts to fester in me.

This is the kind of distraction I was worried about. I need to keep my head down, eyes on the prize this semester. Push through the school work to stay eligible for the season and then go hard all year to show any of the MLB scouts who turn up that I’m worth the investment.

Because, while I know I’ve got what it takes to play at that level, they have to believe it too. And they’re sure as hell gonna be harder to convince.

Releasing a soft sigh, I grab my pen and notebook from my bag, hoping that actually taking notes will cure my incessant thoughts of Theo. And it works, for a bit. But then my phone buzzes, drawing my attention to the screen where I find a waiting text.

From Theo.

I wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon—or at all, despite his promise to not go all Casper on me—which is why I can’t stop myself from dropping my pen to open it immediately.

Theo: I can’t stop thinking about last night .

I hate the way my pulse thrums as I read the text a few times, and I hate the little smile pulling at my lips even more. It’s almost… giddy . And while it irritates me, it isn’t enough to stop me from quickly typing out a reply.

Me: Really? And what part exactly is your mind stuck on? In explicit detail, please.

Theo: Are you trying to get me to sext you right now? While I’m in a lecture hall with like 200 other people?

I smirk, picturing him in a seat similar to the one I currently occupy, while I type out a one-word response.

Me: Depends.

Theo: On?

Me: If you’ll do it. Obviously. And if it helps, I’m also in class.

Then, for the hell of it, I snap a quick picture of my view from the back of the lecture hall and send it off as proof.

My eyes remain fixated on the screen as those damn three dots pop up and disappear at least a dozen times, only for them to stop entirely.

A brief twinge of disappointment zaps me in the stomach, but I shove it away, set my phone back on the desk, and do my best to pay attention to the rest of Professor Rittenhouse’s lecture.

It’s not until there’s only a few minutes left that another text pops up.

Theo: I was wondering how long it’ll take me to be as good at giving head as you.

My heart rate ratchets up when I read it, and just like that, my mind is right back where it was earlier: fixating on the two of us naked and exploring each other.

And even without the experience, Theo’s mouth on me was nothing short of heaven and nirvana rolled into one.

So the idea of him wanting to get better at it?

Shit, sign me up for being the one he practices on .

Me: You’re an athlete. You should know just how true the whole “practice makes perfect” thing is.

Me: Of course, I’m more than happy to help with that. It’s the brotherly thing to do.

I have to clamp my teeth on my lips to keep from laughing out loud at the text, but a little snort still manages to escape when his response pops up a second later.

Theo: For the love of God, never say that again.

Me: Take the offer, and I promise I won’t.

Theo: Blackmailing me into performing sexual favors? Isn’t that against the code of conduct?

Me: Probably. But we’ve already broken the most sacred rule of this rivalry. May as well go all in, right?

Just like earlier, those little dots pop up and disappear a few times as he writes and rethinks his response until, after what feels like an hour, it appears at the bottom of my screen.

Theo: When are you free to hang out next?

A little zing of electricity hits me in the stomach, right below my belly button, and I have half a mind to ask which kind of hanging out this would be. Because right now, my mind is firmly on the naked kind.

But I behave myself, barely, and offer him the safe response.

Me: I don’t have practice tomorrow, so I’m open once class is over. You?

Theo: Anytime after 3. What do you wanna do?

The question gives me pause because…I have no clue what Theo likes—other than to drive me fucking insane. Every attempt I made at getting to know him over break was met with the cold shoulder or toxic venom, so we’re basically starting at square on e.

But then an idea hits me, because I do know one thing Theo likes.

Me: I’ll pick you up at 3:30. Send me your address.