Page 11

11

Cade

Lex: Caught the replay on ESPN, Farmer for THE FUCKING HAIL MARY!!!!

I chuckle down at the text on my phone, the rush of catching the winning touchdown filling me again. It was an amazing fucking game.

The sting of the cool wind nips at my cheeks while we wait to load the bus. Puffs of smoke exit the rear muffler, filling the air with the potent aroma of exhaust that gets stuck in my lungs. I step onto the bus, briefly searching for Charlotte. I decide to take the same seat I did last time, hoping that at least if she doesn’t feel comfortable sitting next to me, I’ll still be able to sit close by.

In the meantime, I return Lex’s text.

Me: It was fucking awesome!

Briar: OMG, I just watched it! Yay, Farmer! I’ll show Reid as soon as he gets back from practice.

Me: It felt like old times.

Aidan Michaels, our QB1, is getting into his groove, and it could not come at a better time. We are killing it in our division.

A few teammates give me knuckles when they board. The buzz from the electric win bounces off the interior of the bus, but it won’t stay like that for long. Pretty soon, we’ll all get that post-game lull and will sleep away the several-hour return drive to Warner.

The bus door shuts, and I peer up to find Coach taking the front seat, and behind him, Charley moves toward the row in front of me. She doesn’t glance my way when she squeezes past the equipment guy to get to the seat on the inside.

Oh, we’re going to have a talk about this.

With a smirk, I dig the Snickers bar out of my bag and offer it through the space between her seat and the window. She takes it this time, flashing a smile my way. I slip her my phone next, and she gives me a confused look. “Put your number in,” I whisper.

Her cheeks flush, and she types away on my screen before handing it back.

I can’t find her right away. Her contact info isn’t under Charley, and it takes me a moment to find it.

Witch.

Ha. The first thing I do is change it to Goddess because that’s exactly what she is. What happened this morning was one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced.

Me: Avoiding me?

Her: No, why?

Me: Why didn’t you sit next to me? *gasp* Am I your dirty secret?

Her response doesn’t come for a little while, but then my phone buzzes in my hands.

Her: If anything, I’m YOUR dirty secret.

Me: Sit your ass next to me.

Her: I’m already sitting.

Me: Fine. I like being behind you. It’s a nice position.

I catch her reflection in the window, and she’s smiling down at her phone. That’s a good sign.

Her: Great game. Turns out, you’re really good when you’re not tackling a spectator.

I can’t help the pride that bubbles inside me. Some days you make the big plays, and some days you don’t. But it’s always amazing when someone you care about acknowledges what you did.

Sitting back, I think about what transpired between Charley and me. The connection we had. The sparks during our conversation. Something about her is magnetic, calling to the parts of me that I don’t like to share. Plus, she’s different and exciting.

I take a deep breath as the depth of my feelings wash over me at once. Charley thinks I have everything figured out, but this is new. A little scary, a little bit fucking awesome.

Me: Thanks. I’m sure you were the best assistant you could be.

Her: Oh yeah. I’m beginning to think it’s an occupational hazard to get run over on the sidelines.

Worry pinches my chest.

Me: Are you okay?

Her: Fine now that I have this Snickers.

Me: Hey, pass a piece back to me. I gave you my only food.

Her: Are you serious? You gave it to me.

Me: But now my stomach wants some.

Her: You should have thought about that before you gave it to me.

Movement catches my eye, and I flick my gaze up to find Charley peering through the gap…popping the last piece of Snickers into her mouth and chewing it with a big grin.

I lean forward, sneaking my hand through the crack to grasp the nape of her neck. Her eyes go wide, and I marvel at the uncertainty there. I rub my thumb under the base of her ear and whisper, “I’ve got some things for you to do with that mouth.”

Her eyelashes fan over her cheeks, and we stay that way for a while until I pull my hand back.

I try to relax in my seat, close my eyes, and enjoy the silent drive home, but I can’t. The jostle of the bus and thoughts of Charley keep me up, so I tap the equipment guy on the shoulder. He peers around and has to take his headphones off to hear me ask, “Hey, switch seats with me? I’ve got one to myself.”

He shrugs and stands, and I grab my bag and plop into the seat next to Charley. Round eyes meet mine. “What are you doing?” she hisses.

“Sitting next to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to. Plus, I want to prove that you’re not my dirty little secret.”

“I was only joking.”

“No, you weren’t.” I stare into her brown eyes, and I know I’m not wrong. “Besides, I intended on texting you the whole ride home anyway, so now we can just talk.”

She looks past me, her stare darting around the interior of the bus.

“They’re all going to fall asleep listening to music on their headphones.”

“Maybe that’s what I was planning to do.”

I smirk. “Too bad. You’re stuck with me talking your ear off.”

She nudges at my foot that must have encroached on her side. “I like my space. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” I lean over to her. “With space, you’re sad and lonely. When you have me, you scream my name in pleasure.”

She looks away, but I see the pretty pink flush that reaches up her neck to settle on her cheeks. “About that,” she starts.

“Oh no you don’t,” I chastise, nudging her thigh with mine. “You don’t get to lie to yourself and me.”

“I just don’t know what you want from me.”

“From you? Nothing. I only want you to open up. This isn’t about me taking something from you. It’s about…” I shrug. “Seeing where this goes and not letting our brains get in the way.”

“But why me?”

“Girl, you are making a guy try way too hard. I’ve already told you you’re beautiful—and showed you—in many ways, and our personalities mesh.”

Her face turns to stone. “My personality doesn’t mesh with anyone’s.”

I cup her cheek. “You can’t have an answer for everything, and oh, by the way, they aren’t just answers, they’re defense mechanisms.

“But if you really want to know why, here’s what happened. I ran into you on the sidelines. I liked the attitude you gave me. I saw you at practice the next day, and I thought, that girl is gorgeous . You didn’t let me get away with my normal stuff, so now you’re gorgeous and intriguing. You keep trying to push me away, but you can’t deny the chemistry going on here.”

She softens incrementally, breathing in deep. “Was I really having a bad dream last night?”

“Yeah, you were breaking my heart.”

“So, that was why?”

I tug black strands of hair behind her ear. “No, I was only awake because I was so fucking hard listening to you breathe and peering over at your silhouette that I did what any sane guy would do when you were in distress. Spoon you.”

“Well, now you’re sounding more like a serial killer.”

“Oh, did I not mention that? Football player by evening, serial killer by night.”

“That sounds like more fun.”

“Why am I not surprised that the girl who likes thunderstorms, black cats, and her privacy would love serial killers?”

“I don’t love them. They’re despicable, but also…interesting. Compelling in an isn’t-this-heinous kind of way.”

“Alright, let’s see.” I pull out my phone and hook up to my parents’ Netflix account. “Give me a good documentary to watch.”

Her eyes widen. “You have Netflix? I’ve been dying to watch The Ted Bundy Tapes .”

I search through the app, and it pulls up. “Pair with my Bluetooth, and let’s get watching, then.”

She scrambles to get her headphones out of her bag, and we hook them up before pressing Play. She’s all smiles, leaning into me, her shoulder resting against mine while I hold the phone in front of us.

I have to admit, I’m as engrossed as she is. This guy is fucked in the head.

At the end of the second episode, she turns in her seat, leaning into me fully. I place my arm around her, and she brings her feet up and holds my phone, so I can watch over her shoulder.

Taking her in, I wonder if she realizes she’s done this. Like when she was rubbing her ass all up and down my cock this morning. Is it a natural ease that comes over her before her brain gets in the way? That’s what I’m banking on, anyway. I don’t claim to be a psychologist, but I can read people well. I always have.

To me, Charley has built herself a suit of armor for protection, but her natural state of being is this girl. This girl who props her feet up and uses me as a backrest. This girl who doesn’t shy away from my touches. This girl who might even like me.

The brisk night air feels like a sudden jab to my lungs. Ahead of me, Charley has her bag pulled around her shoulders. She woke up in my arms when the bus came to a loud stop and scrambled away from me like I was on fire.

She’s as skittish as a caged mouse. It’s as if she’ll come to me if I have a treat in my hand, but nothing more.

“Hey,” I say, jogging after her. She doesn’t even look over her shoulder. “Are you going to leave without saying goodbye? I feel used.”

Nothing…

I finally walk in step next to her and bump her with my shoulder. “Hey, where did my Sunshine go?”

She peers at me out of the corner of her eye, a look of distrust visible on her face. “She’s tired.”

“Well, I kind of figured that. You almost dropped my phone when you fell asleep,” I tease.

Her gaze shutters.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It is, Cade.” Her jaw works. “Listen, I really need to get home, okay? I’ll see you around.”

I’ll see you around. I can’t say I’ve ever had that response less than twenty-four hours after giving a girl an orgasm she desperately liked. That was clear. I’m certainly not making that part up in my head to make myself feel like a big man.

“Congratulations on your win,” she says before walking off.

It takes me a minute to realize that she’s headed in the opposite direction of the parking lot, and so am I. I stop, watching her follow the sidewalk. I know this girl is not about to walk home at three in the morning. By herself.

“Fuck me,” I mutter.

I spin, sprinting to my car as fast as the freezing air and my tired legs allow. The dash lights up when I press the Start button, then I throw my bag into the passenger seat, thinking about how I’m going to play this.

She won’t want a ride from me. I can feel it in my bones.

I put the heater on high, waiting briefly for it to warm up, but then nerves settle in, and I reverse out of my space at the athletic dorms, the steering wheel chilly to the touch.

Wrapping my hand around the gear shaft, I put it in Drive, but a figure runs in front of me. Booker. He waves his hand, so I press on the brake as he runs to the passenger side. Trying not to get anxious, I roll the window down. He leans in. “Yo, can you give me a ride?”

“Hop in, man,” I tell him. “But I have to do something first.”

I yank my bag out of the way and throw it in the back seat while Booker gets in. “Thanks, Cade. It’s too fucking cold out to walk. Plus, I’m hoping some of your clout will rub off on me if I’m seen hanging out with the guy who made the game-winning touchdown.”

He holds his hand up to high-five me, and I chuckle when our palms connect in a slap that stings more than it should due to the temperature.

“Where you going?” I ask.

“Kappa Delta. I got a girl there waiting for me.”

“Dude, it’s three in the morning.”

“She says she’s up.”

I shake my head, finally taking off, hoping I can find Charley. The brightly lit campus roads do nothing to ease the worry about her getting home safely. I point the car toward the direction she was walking in, and, on a hunch, I turn right.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Booker asks.

“Making sure Charley gets home okay.”

“Charley?”

“Coach T’s new assistant.”

He doesn’t respond, and when I peer over, he has a quizzical look on his face. “Coach T has a new assistant?”

“Yeah. You know, jet-black hair, petite, always frowning.”

He shakes his head.

“You should stop leading with your dick for two seconds out of every day and look at the world around you.”

“Okay, Grandpa.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. A bunch of us have noticed your dry spell. We were going to buy you some Viagra and put it in your locker.”

I chuckle. “I don’t have ED, dickhead.”

His face scrunches up. “ED?”

“Erectile dysfunction. You might want to think about going to class once in a while.”

“I do go to class. I see Professor Andrea and Professor Jamie. Sometimes Professor Caroline.” He names off a few jersey chasers I’m familiar with.

“Shut up.”

“I like their coursework a lot.”

I laugh, gripping the steering wheel harder while I glance down the empty street, looking for a figure in my wash of headlights.

“Hey, how are Reid and Lex?”

“Good. They caught the game replays.”

Booker rattles on with comparisons between Parker and Michaels, even though he never played with Reid, and I nod as my gaze tracks the sidewalks on either side of the road. I pass block after block, scanning the poorly lit streets. She literally could’ve turned down any of these.

I sit back with a sigh.

“Where does this girl live?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m beginning to think you made her up. You know, I’m sure Sandra has a friend at the sorority.”

“I’m good, man. Let me just text her real quick.” I pull over and park before fishing out my phone.

Me: Did you make it home okay? I know you’re tired, but please respond.

I hit Send, and then do a three-point turn to take Booker where he wants to go. Once I’m parked outside the house, he tries to convince me to come inside, but I tell him I have a date with my bed instead.

He shrugs and gets out, shutting the car door. A cute blonde leans out the front entrance to the sorority house and waves while Booker jogs up the sidewalk to meet her.

For a split second, jealousy spikes when the girl jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips, a huge smile on her face.

I can’t imagine Charley ever doing that. I mostly see her back as she’s walking away from me. Or a frown. Or her condescending gaze.

Funny, I always thought I was the white-picket-fence type, but now I’m not so sure. I’ve been snagged by a weird chick, and I don’t know what to do with myself.

I check my phone and don’t see a message waiting, so I pull away, heading toward the athletic dorms.

No text back? Not cool.