Page 17 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Rory

B y the time my study hall ends and I walk out of the library, my stomach is growling and I think I might actually be starving to death.

I’ve been on campus since eight this morning, and all I packed was a protein bar and a bag of peanut M&M’s because I was in a rush and it was the first thing I grabbed as I was walking out the door.

Not exactly a well-balanced meal.

More of a hot-girl snack.

Checking the time on my phone, I realize I’ve got a few minutes left before I need to head home to meet Cillian, which means that I have plenty of time to stop at my favorite food truck and get some birria tacos to go.

They’re the best in the entire city, and just thinking about them makes my mouth literally water.

I order some for Cillian too because I don’t want to show up with food and not have any for him, and if he’s been in weight training all evening he’s probably as starving as I am.

My apartment is right off campus, so it takes me only a few minutes to walk home. When I get there, I find Cillian leaning against his bike in the parking spot directly in front of my place, scrolling on his phone. His brows are pinched together, and his expression seems… sad almost?

“Hi,” I greet him brightly, lifting the plastic bag full of tacos. “I wasn’t sure what the plan for tonight was and I’m so hungry I could actually eat a cow, soooo I brought dinner.”

He pushes off the bike, tucking his phone into the pocket of his gray sweatpants and nods. “Thanks. Came straight here after a shower.”

“Everything good?” I ask.

Something feels off with him, but I don’t want to pry because he’s only just started to really let me in at all.

I don’t want him to shut down by pushing too hard and overstepping any boundaries.

But I also saw the way he was staring at his phone, like whatever was on it was the most hurtful thing he’s ever seen, then just as quickly, the mask dropped back in place, leaving his face blank.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

I give him a small smile as we walk to my door. I have a feeling he’s not good, but I guess if he wants to talk, he will. He takes the bag from me as I unlock the front door and then he follows me inside, shutting it behind him.

“Wanna eat on the couch?” I ask him as we move through my apartment.

When he nods and walks over to the couch, I can’t help but notice the way his ass looks in those stupid sweatpants. I swear guys have to know what they’re doing to women when they wear them.

It’s absurd.

Thirty minutes later, the tacos are demolished, and I couldn’t eat another single bite even if I wanted to.

“Bloody hell, that was the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life,” he says after smashing four out of the eight tacos I bought, and I giggle.

“I told you. Trust me, as a foodie, I am on top of when and where to eat around Prescott. This truck only comes like once a month and no matter what, I make sure I’m there because only having these tacos once a month is hardly enough.”

A low groan rumbles from his chest as he clutches his stomach, then lifts his arms in a stretch over his head.

The T-shirt he’s wearing lifts, revealing the dark dusting of hair covering his tan abdomen and the trail that leads into his waistband.

I didn’t notice until now how the dark green T-shirt he’s wearing clings to every hard muscle of his upper body, molding to him like it was made just for him.

I feel my cheeks heat, and I clear my throat, a cough suddenly forcing its way up my throat.

Jesus, what am I even doing checking him out like this.

There are a lot of things I’ve been… noticing about Cillian recently. Some against my will, but still entirely impossible to ignore.

Obviously I’m just… horny. And I need a little time with my showerhead. That’s all.

“So, I was thinking about the other night.”

Pushing my thoughts of doing indecent things to him away, I turn to face him, pulling my legs up in a crisscross. “Okay… and?”

His fingers splay along his jaw, then he drags them across his mouth for a beat. “You need to practice on me, St. James. I know you said it’s weird, but there’s no better way for me to talk you through it than to see it face-to-face.”

The thought of embarrassing myself that way is the absolute last thing I want to do but before I can even protest, he keeps going. “We’re going to pretend like we don’t know each other. Never met at all and we’ll have a conversation just like we would if I was trying to take you home.”

“And what makes you think that you could take me home, Cairney?”

The lazy, cocky grin he gives me admittedly has my stomach flipping, the feeling of a hundred flutters erupting in my lower belly in sync with the erratic beating in my chest. If Cillian were a stranger at a bar, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I would want to go home with him.

I’m not admitting that out loud, but it’s painfully true.

“Damn. Okay, if that’s the way you’re doing it, I get it. You know, you should smile more. Makes you look less like a serial killer.”

He chuckles. “Smart-arse. Now come on, let’s practice.”

When he turns to face me, scooting in slightly, I shakily exhale. We’re almost touching now, his powerful thigh pressed against mine as he angles toward me.

I can do this.

It’s just Cillian. We’re almost, sort of, kind of even friends now. I think so at least.

Friends can flirt. Easy peasy.

“Tell me how I should start,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “What should I do first when I see a hot guy that I want?”

It feels so incredibly stupid to say that out loud because I should know, but as painful as it is to admit, I don’t.

I’m a college girl who only lost her virginity because of a very awkward, very terrible drunken hookup at my high school graduation party that I immediately regretted and have done my best to never think about again.

Who’s now being taught by the bad boy outcast of her father’s rugby team.

“Smile. Introduce yourself. Don’t worry about what he’s thinking, or what you’ll say next. Let the conversation happen naturally. No pressure, no expectations. Just a conversation,” he says pointedly.

As if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Okay.” I nod, exhaling again, then square my shoulders and lift my chin. I plaster on a smile and say, “Hi. I’m Rory.”

Cillian grins. He lifts his hand and extends it for me to shake. When I slip my shaking palm in his, he holds it for a second, letting it linger longer than I would with any stranger without it feeling awkward. But with him… it feels exactly the way that it should. “Rory. I like that.”

Jesus, four words in and I’m already blushing. I can’t imagine actually being the recipient of real flirting with a guy like him. This is just pretend and I’m already feeling flustered.

“Get out of your head, Rory.” He leans in slightly and I swear he’s so close I can feel his breath fanning across my lips. “Can I be honest about something?”

I nod wordlessly.

“I’ve been thinking about walking over and talking to you all night, love.” The way the word rolls off his tongue, deep and thickly accented, it’s possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

He smells so good it should actually be a sin. Like fresh sandalwood and cedar. Clean. Delicious. The combination of how close he is, how good he smells, how his voice is a velvet seduction has me completely overwhelmed. In the best way.

“H-have you?” I stutter.

His grin widens into a crooked smile, and his hazel eyes seem to darken. “Yeah. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone at a bar. Do you go to university around here?”

“Yes. I’m a junior at Prescott. Um… what about you?” I ask as my head swims.

“I just transferred to Prescott from London, actually. I’m still trying to find my way around campus.” His shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Maybe you could show me around sometime?”

When he leans in and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear, I hear my own breath hitch. The moment his fingers brush against the sensitive shell of my ear, a shiver dances electrically down my spine.

I know that we’re only pretending, and that this is just practice for the real thing, but honestly, I’m having trouble remembering that fact right now.

God, he’s charming when he wants to be.

Now I’m starting to really understand why all the girls on campus are losing it over him. If this is how he acts with them?

I’d be down just as bad.

Calm down, Rory. This is all for show, and you’re playing the same part he is.

“Definitely,” I whisper back, my lips tilting into what I hope is a sexy smile. “W-what did you have in mind?”

Where’s this charm when it comes to the team? Granted, they’re guys and he’s not trying to sleep with them, but still. He’s too busy being grumpy and broody to give even a sliver of this away.

You’re not thinking about the team right now, Rory. The hottest guy I’ve ever met is touching me, and my brain isn’t entirely working correctly right now.

But you know what is? My nipples, which are currently taut and pressing almost painfully against the cups of my bra.

I’m irrationally turned on by a game of make-believe right now. I should probably feel ashamed of that since I went into it knowing this was just for practice, but my body has a mind of its own.

“You’re in your head again,” Cillian says, his dark brow lifted. “Where’d you go?”

“Yes, sorry, but I was just thinking about how…” I trail off, unable to pull myself together.

There’s no way I’m telling him exactly how much this affected me.

How much it turned me on, so I pivot. “Charming you are. I mean… I know we’re just practicing, but I still got a little flustered,” I tell him honestly.

“And I was thinking that maybe if you used some of that charm with the team, they may open up to you a little more. You know, instead of the selective-mute thing?”

He sighs as he pulls back, straightening his spine against the couch. “Not talking about me right now, St. James. This is about you.”

“I know. I know. Okay, sorry, carry on.” I flatten my palm and then wave it down my face as if I’m in theater class and attempting to get back into character, which only makes Cillian roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Yeah, I could totally show you around,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

“Stop that.”

Nerves be damned, I grin and lean forward, ready to give him a taste of his own stupidly charming medicine. Well, the Rory St. James version of it. I place my clammy hands on his knees, slowly trailing them higher, watching as his eyes go wide.

“I know you’re new to campus, and I could show you all of the best places… Where to hang out, where to hook up, where to…” I trail off, leaning even closer as I peer up at him through my lashes and pull my lip between my teeth. “Get tacos .” My voice is so low and sultry that I hardly recognize it.

Okay, that was by far the most sexual thing that’s ever come out of my mouth, and it was taco related.

I’m impressed with myself. I didn’t know I even had that in me.

“Christ,” he groans dramatically. “That really bloody does it for me, Rory. So fucking hot.”

I toss my head back, a giggle escaping at how ridiculous this entire exchange has become. Cillian’s laughing along with me, and I realize when I hear him, a real genuine laugh for the first time ever, I love the sound. Deep and raspy, it fits him so perfectly.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a shit student, St. James?”

I shrug, sitting back against the arm of the couch. “Nope. Maybe you’re just a shit teacher.”

“Bullshit. I’m a phenomenal teacher.” He sobers after a moment, glancing over at me pensively. “Seems like you have no problem flirting with me. What’s the difference?”

“Because you’re… you ? I don’t know, I think maybe my brain knows it’s not real.

That it’s just a scenario and not the real thing.

It feels entirely different when I’m talking to a random guy that I find attractive.

I either word vomit or find myself friend-zoned.

I just freeze and then make a complete fool out of myself. ”

Cillian listens intently as I talk, his big hands folded in his lap, and when I’m done he says, “Then we’ll just keep practicing, keep working at it until you feel more comfortable.

For your next lesson we’ll up the stakes, meet at a bar and pretend we don’t know each other.

See how you do with a change of scenery.

We can work on cues, and how you can pick up on knowing when a guy is interested. ”

I chew my lip. “Okay. Can I ask you something? Not about the lesson or my… issues.”

He nods.

“What’s your dream girl? Not like a supermodel or a famous actress, but when you see yourself with someone, who is she? What does she look like?”

For a beat he’s quiet as he mulls over my question.

It’s something I’ve thought a lot about recently. Who my own dream guy would be, and I haven’t quite figured it out, but I’m slowly working on it.

I want to know what Cillian likes. Who he’d be interested in. What kind of traits he looks for in a girl. I just want to know Cillian.

“Kind, smart, authentically herself. She’d genuinely like rugby and be compatible in…” My cheeks immediately burn when he trails off and smirks, dipping a shoulder. “As far as looks, I love all types of women, and I don’t have a physical type.”

That’s surprising. Most athletes like cleat chasers. Puck bunnies. The girls who would do whatever simply because they play sports. I’ve seen it enough. But it seems that’s not Cillian’s type at all.

“Interesting.”

“Yeah, what’s interesting about that?” he asks.

I shrug. “It just doesn’t fit the whole quintessential cliché bad boy thing. They usually want bimbos who think sucking their dick is a sport and have nothing important to talk about. Ever.”

Cillian chuckles. “I mean most guys want their girl to love sucking their cock, St. James.”

“That’s not wha—” I stop mid-sentence. Hearing the word cock in his stupidly hot English accent causes me to flush, my cheeks burning. “Ugh, you know what… never mind. I’m just saying I didn’t expect you to have an answer like that, that’s all. So deep.”

“Well, to be fair you don’t really know me. Maybe I’m a deep guy,” he says.

Okay, that’s true. I guess it wasn’t fair to judge him. I’m already beginning to learn that he’s not at all like I thought when he first got here.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I say, because he is. “Won’t happen again, promise. I’ll just save all my judgment for your food choices.”

When he laughs, I bite my lip to hold back the one that threatens to escape.

Something tells me there’s much more to Cillian Cairney than what meets the eye.

And I want to find out what.