The QB Bad Boy and Me

by Tayler Marley

  He bit his lip with frustration. “That would be more preferable,” he muttered under his breath. He exhaled and locked me in a piercing stare. “Look, the problem is that I don’t want those perverted assholes staring at my girlfriend while she dances around in her fucking underwear.” He clenched his jaw and pointed at the door behind him. “I know how their sick heads work.”

  “Your—your girlfriend?” I stammered.

  His gaze narrowed as he stared down at me. “That’s what you got from that?”

  “Yeah.”

  He sighed, and ran his hands down his face. We stood in front of each other and I knew that I was wobbling. Life would be so much easier if I just didn’t feel how I felt. He let his fingertips travel the length of my arm. His hooded lids fluttered as he looked me over. I was still half naked.

  I don’t even know what’s happening.

  “I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I’ve heard how they talk, Dallas. Fucking Austin and Derek. Even Maxon. They are filth. I can’t stand the thought of them seeing and thinking and being just fucking—gross.”

  He’d just called me his girlfriend and I knew that it seemed like a bad time to get hung up on such a minor detail, but I was feeling some sort of way and I couldn’t stop it.

  I swallowed. “You’re not that drunk, are you?”

  “No. Not that drunk.”

  “Why? Wasn’t that the point in tonight?”

  “It used to be,” he said as his hand came to rest on my hip. I shivered when his thumb circled. Somehow, we’d backed up and I felt the wall, cold, behind me. “I found a more effective source of comfort. She’s a damn good dancer.”

  His lips brushed mine. Warm as usual. There was alcohol on his breath but no cigarettes. What he told me was true. I’d become a vice. Not one that gave him a buzz or helped him to forget. But one that he could trust, talk to, and relax around.

  He kissed me. It didn’t start out slow. It was hot and desperate, and I was burning with need. His hands lifted mine and pinned them against the wall above my head. Desire budded, pulsated, and began to consume me. His mouth was fast and wet, tasting and taking. But he was so giving.

  He gripped either thigh and hoisted me into the air. My lace thong didn’t protest when his fingers slipped past the thin fabric. My legs became tight around his waist as his mouth dragged down my jaw, throat, and chest.

  “You shout at me like that again,” I gasped, feeling his fingers. “I’ll slap you back to birth.”

  He chuckled and nodded, the top of his head tickled my neck. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled between our kisses.

  We collapsed into a heap on the top of his bed. Who knew if we’d make it downstairs again? It wasn’t even a concern at this point—not when he discarded his clothing and removed what was left of mine.

  The morning brought a headache. It brought cotton mouth and most notably, embarrassment. I should never have done that keg stand. It had all gone downhill from there.

  Melissa. She’d convinced me that doing a striptease in front of the entire grade and more would be a good idea. Melissa and I would be having words on Monday.

  Drayton and I brushed our teeth and got back into bed. Morning breath was never pleasant, but after a night of alcohol, it was even worse. We snuggled naked under the throw, swimming in soft sheets. We were on our sides, Drayton’s arm draped across my middle, his fingertips creating tantalizing circles on my waist.

  We’d been discussing the events of last night’s party and there had been a significant amount of cringing going on, mostly from me. We’d both apologized for our part in the drama that had unfolded, but when we came to the fact that we’d ditched his own celebration to argue and have make-up sex, he frowned.

  “I’m sorry for the way that I made you mine.” His biceps flexed as he ran his hand up and down my back.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. Without missing a beat, he grabbed my waist, rolled backward, and lifted me so that I was straddling his firm torso.

  “It does matter,” he mumbled, his fingers gently massaging my hips. “I should have asked you properly.”

  “What’s properly?”

  “Well,” he sat up and leaned against his headboard. “I should have said ‘Dallas, I think you’re gorgeous, you’re funny’”—he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my neck—“‘you’re beautiful’”—another one—“‘you’re strong and smart’”—another kiss—“‘and you make me happier than I’ve been in a long time. Please be my girl?’”

  “And I would have said ‘Sure, babe.’”

  Suddenly, the door swung open and hit the wall with a dull thud. Drayton pulled the sheet up behind me, creating a protective curtain. I looked over my shoulder to find Gabby and Josh at the threshold, throwing dollar bills into the air.

  “Ayyyy-oooo!” they sang, shimmying into the room while they continued to make it rain. If I hadn’t been naked, I would have dived out of bed and stolen the cash.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” Drayton asked as I repositioned myself beside him.

  “Dallas left too fast last night,” Gabby laughed, throwing a handful of paper over the bed. “She didn’t get to collect her tips.”

  “I wasn’t actually there.” Josh shrugged, his hands resting on his hips. “Gabby made me leave when you started unzipping your dress. I’m just here for the aftermath. The regret must be killer.”

  “I’m blessed with great friends,” I said sarcastically.

  “You are,” Gabby sighed with satisfaction as she dropped onto the bed, earning a curt glance from Drayton.

  “Well.” Josh began to back out of the room just as I noticed that he was wearing satin boxer shorts and a matching T-shirt. It was a Star Wars pj set. “I’m going to eat leftover pizza for breakfast.”

  “I’m coming.” Gabby jumped to her feet. Just watching the movement gave me second-hand nausea. “By the way, Dallas, your dance last night was hot! It wasn’t what you’d expect from someone who was so drunk. But you actually looked great. If all else in your life fails, I think you’d be a very successful showgirl.”

  “She’s not wrong,” Drayton agreed once she was gone. “You definitely gave the stripper a run for her money.”

  “Did she get paid? I feel sort of bad.”

  “She would have been paid when she arrived. Don’t stress.”

  I nodded and sank farther down. The sheets smelled like lavender and pine, but after last night, they were going to need to be washed.

  “What are we doing today?” He pulled me into a spoon. His elbow kept him propped up so that he could feather kisses along the side of my throat.

  “Hmmm.” I contemplated our options for a moment. “What about a ride?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I felt his smile against my skin. “Then later, we can take the motorcycle out.”

  Monday was interesting. Until someone at school could top the striptease that I’d performed at Drayton’s party, I was going to be the subject of teasing jeers and suggestive comments. It was a good thing that I had thick skin and the childish drama rolled right over me. At lunchtime, Drayton and I stood in the gymnasium before practice. The cheer squad had to get a routine together for the charity game next month, but knowing Emily, she’d recycle one that the entire team could do in their sleep. Whatever she could do to lighten her workload—that was why I was patiently waiting for her to show up, so that I could ask her the favor that I’d mentioned at Drayton’s.

  He stood behind me with his chin on my head and his arms wrapped around my middle. I was a small girl, below average height, and when he held me, I felt like he could wrap right around me and I would disappear. It was such a safe feeling. I loved how well we fit.

  “What up, Cheer,” Derek sauntered past us with his fingers wrapped around a football. “What’s the going rate? You makin’ good coin?”

  As if I hadn’t heard that one this morning. I rolled my eyes but fel
t Drayton straighten up behind me. I held on to his arms and squeezed. It was futile. If he wanted to get past me, it wouldn’t be hard.

  “What’s your going rate, Derek?” Drayton’s chest rumbled as he spoke behind me. “Enough to fix that face when I rearrange it?”

  Derek scoffed and tossed the ball into his other hand. “Relax.”

  He wandered over to join Austin, Maxon, and Mitchum, who were warming up. Austin might have been the only person who hadn’t said a word to me about the dance. I had a feeling that he’d learned his lesson.

  I turned around and looked up at my man, who was scowling in the direction of his friends. It wasn’t as if I didn’t love how protective he was—I did—but even he had his limits. There was only so much trouble that his parents could keep him out of.

  “It doesn’t bother me,” I reminded him, fingers clasping at the back of his neck. His taut shoulders were tense. “At all.”

  He pushed a piece of hair behind my ear and his gaze moved over each inch of my face. Seeing me. Hearing me. He was so present. “I know. But I’m not letting anyone talk to my girl like that.”

  My stomach turned over itself and then flew into my throat.

  “Drayton.” We both looked over at the other side of the room, where Lincoln was gathering the football team. He shot us a warning look—likely because I had been about to mount my boyfriend—and gestured that Drayton join them.

  That was when I saw Emily slipping in from the foyer where the office was located. I sighed and went on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Got a little scruff there.” I ran a hand across his jaw before I backed up. He had the faintest shadow of stubble.

  He grinned. “You like it?”

  “Love it.” I winked and spun around so that I could join the squad. I beelined straight for our captain.

  She folded her arms and began the conversation. “I heard that you and Drayton had sex in front of the entire party after I left. Gross.”

  “It was a striptease,” I sighed. “We did not hav—forget it. How are you?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “I’m being nice.”

  “Gross. Don’t. Get on with this favor request and don’t hold your breath.”

  “Fine.” I couldn’t keep up with her moods. “I was wondering, hoping, actually, that I might be able to captain the team for the charity game. I have a routine. I have ideas. It would be a little different. More dance, but still cheer. I would really love to give it a go.”

  “Are you going to use that photo against me if I say no?”

  “No, Emily—otherwise I wouldn’t be asking for permission. I would just tell you that I’m going to do it. I prefer not to resort to blackmail.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, fine. Takes the pressure off me.”

  I tried to keep the shock from my face. That might have been the nicest thing that she’d ever done for me.

  Chapter 23

  The game was that night and both teams—football and cheer— were in tip-top shape for the end of February. It had been a great experience over the last few weeks, acting as the captain for a while. Emily had a little bit of trouble in the beginning—she’d bark orders during practice or attempt to correct the steps even though the routine was new to her as well.

  Keeping with the theme of miracles, we managed to get through the last month without blood being shed, threats being made, or hair being pulled. It was progress, albeit small. It was still preferable to the total hate and resentment that had existed between us before.

  Nathan and I were sitting in the living room after school. I was on the floor, staring at our threadbare carpet and promising myself that I’d have the cash to replace it one day. Nathan was on the sofa with his leg propped on his knee while he read his phone.

  We were watching Supernatural reruns. Gabby was in love with this show. She drooled, I mean drooled, over Dean Winchester. She had an obsession with her television heroes, but she argued with the use of the word obsessed.

  It’s not an obsession, she’d say in defense. It’s dedication.

  Our old sofa groaned when Nathan shifted. He dropped his leg and put the other one up. “You get that letter?” he asked, biting on a thumb nail. “The acceptance one?”

  “Still waiting.”

  It was nice that he asked if I’d got an acceptance letter rather than simply asking if I’d heard back. It felt as if acceptance was all that it could be. The audition at CalArts had gone well but I was trying not to get my hopes up.

  “I’ll have to get a roommate when you leave.” Nathan’s phone bounced when he tossed it and the spring in the couch squeaked. “It’ll be too quiet without you dancing around all the time.”

  “Nathan, get married. Have a couple of kids. Settle down. You’re twenty-five, dude.”

  “This is prime time. This is when I’m meant to be doing the bachelor thing.”

  Dust danced when I dragged my feet across the carpet toward me. Knees to my chest, I hugged my legs and rested my chin on top. “And that would be fine if I believed that it made you happy. You hate being alone. That’s the reason that you—”

  “We’re not doing this again.” He stood, stretched, and strolled into the kitchen. “Dallas, you are not a shrink. I do not need advice.”

  “It’s not advice. It’s an opinion.”

  The cupboard doors opened and closed in the kitchen. Before long, there were frozen berries and fruit spread across the countertop. Nathan held the blender cup in one hand and peered over at where I was still sitting on the living-room floor.

  “Smoothie?”

  “No thanks.”

  I was about an hour from game time and the last thing that I needed was to be thrown around with dairy in my stomach, which reminded me I should have been going. Standing up, I slipped my cell phone into my bra and ran a hand through my ponytail while I deliberated if I needed to remember anything else.

  “Dallas,” Nathan snapped. “Quit doing that.”

  I stared. “Doing what?”

  “Putting your cell phone in your bra. How many damn times do we have to go over this?”

  He stormed toward me. There was milk on his black T-shirt, and I laughed at how childish it seemed, until he pinched the bottom of my phone and pulled it out of its hiding spot.

  “Nathan.” I swatted his shoulder and snatched it back. “I don’t need your advice.”

  “It’s not advice, dipshit. It’s called cellular radiation and it’s a real thing. Use a pocket.”

  My big brother had been health conscious for as long as I could remember. It went further than his diet and exercise. Putting my phone in my bra was a bad habit, so I slipped it into my pants pocket and smiled with sarcasm.

  “Happy? Can we go now?”

  “Hang on, let me put this stuff away.”

  He went back to the kitchen to finish his smoothie and pack up the ingredients.

  “Yeah. And, Nathan, change your shirt.”

  At school, the chaos was unreal. The parking lot was congested with cars that honked and drivers who leaned out of their windows, cussing when their spot was stolen. Bumpers touched bumpers and the traffic crawled at a snail’s pace. This was the specific reason that Nathan and I had caught an Uber. It astounded me that people did this every single year and refused to learn that driving was not worth it.

  The stands had filled up. There was a near-constant cloud of cold breath above all of the heads. People were huddled with blankets and wore hats. Little children were in sleeping bags. Noses were red and hands were hidden in gloves. But the atmosphere was so positive. It was inspiring that so many people supported such a good cause.

  I was sitting on the track with Melissa. We were underneath a big blanket covered in a picture of Lady Gaga. We had fifteen minutes before kickoff, and I was excited to see Drayton play again.

  Our cheer uniforms were sleeveless, but we’d all agreed to wear a maroon long sleeve underneath our tops because of how cold it was. The days were no longer
filled with permafrost, but nighttime was still cuddle weather.

  There was a sudden pause in the elevator music that had been humming in the background. It wasn’t loud, but the abrupt stop was enough that the crowd became quiet in anticipation. The field was vacant. It couldn’t be time for the game to begin.

  Melissa and I stood up and wandered, along with the other curious cheerleaders, toward the edge of the field. A new song began. The sound was louder than it had been before and I recognized the song was “I Like Me Better” by Lauv.

  As soon as the first verse began, six of the football players emerged from the left tunnel. They cradled a football each and lined up in the middle of the field.

  The first player stepped forward and kicked his football into the air. It exploded into fireworks. It was loud and I startled, but it was so beautiful. The crowd gasped with marvel and awe as bursts of color popped against the canvas of black. The second player followed with his ball.

  And so it continued in quick succession until the sixth player had kicked his ball. The impromptu display was such a unique beginning to the game. I was so fixated on figuring out how those footballs were engineered that I almost missed Drayton walking onto the field.

  He was in his uniform but with no helmet, just his maroon and white colors, his chest gear and a football under one arm. He sauntered toward the head of the setup, and I watched him, curious as to why he hadn’t mentioned that he was doing some sort of pre-game performance.

  “Baby,” he cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted. “Catch!”

  Without giving it a second thought, I stepped forward and noticed that the cheerleaders stepped back. He evaluated his aim and then sent the ball with a strong arm, letting it spiral straight for me.

  Much to my relief, I caught the ball, feeling triumphant because the crowd was huge and missing would have been embarrassing. I glanced down at the ball and almost dropped it when I read the words that were scrawled across it in thick black font.