by W Winters
“Once more,” Daniel finally speaks up. Then he asks, “You want the goal this time? Chicks fucking love it when you score.” I snort at his suggestion.
“Yeah, they do,” Brant agrees with him and again he looks back to check her out.
I shrug like I don’t give a damn but then say, “Yeah, I want it this time.”
“Yeah, you want it,” James says like a jackass. He humps the air like a jackass too. And I rub the back of my head, feeling my ears burn.
“Fucking embarrassing, dude,” Daniel says, pushing James over so he falls on his ass. As the other guys laugh, I look behind me, just a quick glance to see if she saw.
But I don’t know if she did or not, ‘cause she’s already gone.
Chapter 15
Allison
* * *
He keeps looking over at the bleachers like I’m going to magically appear, and I can’t help that it makes me smile. But it falters as quickly as it forms.
I know this story. And the sweet bubbly feelings in my chest, well, they don’t mean shit when the pit in my stomach grows.
I’m smarter than this.
But I want him.
The smile widens, and I kick my foot up to hit the brick wall behind me when the guys start walking this way. Straight to the locker room I just happen to be standing in front of.
It gives me a sick sense of pleasure when Dean nearly trips as he catches sight of me.
He sees my smile too, which makes him narrow his eyes. I love this game. I love the way it makes me feel more than anything else.
Even if it is temporary.
“Stay right there,” Dean tells me, not slowing his pace as he walks right past me to go through the doors. “Just gotta grab something.”
He doesn’t even wait for me to nod. Doesn’t wait for any sign at all.
My jaw hangs open. Fucking dick.
The corners of my lips tip up slightly as I realize he won that round. I can hear a bell ding in my head and see him getting the point on the scoreboard. “Touché,” I mutter as the rest of the guys file in.
Why do I love that he’s such an asshole?
I’m left pondering that very question and kicking the dirt when I hear another voice.
“Well, hello again. Did you enjoy the game?” Kevin Henderson asks me as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He stops only a foot in front of me, watching as some of the other guys walk past him. I have to remind myself we’re not alone. Not really. The field is right behind us. The study group that was on the bleachers is still there. Still within earshot.
My shoulders move involuntarily into a shrug as I try to act casual and keep it light but flirtatious. It takes me a moment to look Kevin in the eyes and when I do, I make sure my lips kick up into a smile.
“Looked like a practice to me,” I tell him while my heart thuds once, then twice. It’s not a game.
He manages a half-smirk and he moves his thumb to the corner of his mouth before replying, “I thought you said it’s always a game?”
The pounding gets louder as my heart races and my blood turns to ice in my veins. I can picture how it would happen right now, how he’d pin me here against the brick wall, how my back would scratch against it. But it would have to be late. The skies would be black and my scream, when I finally did scream, would echo for miles.
“Didn’t you?” he asks me, his voice bringing me back to the moment and I have to carefully manage my composure, making sure I add a touch of shyness as I take the strand of hair in front of my face and tuck it behind my ear.
My eyelashes flutter as I tell him, “You have a good memory.”
“You dye your hair?” he asks me and my heart pangs. As if he knows who I used to be. “Why? Blondes have more fun, don’t they?” he says in jest before flashing me a smile and I struggle to respond. He’s just making random conversation. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Yo,” Kevin says as he rips his eyes off of me and the sound of footsteps slowly coming to a stop greet me.
“Everything good?” I hear Dean ask, but I still don’t look in his direction. I can’t right now. Not after this little encounter.
It’s odd to feel as if I’ve betrayed him. As if I should feel guilty, and maybe that’s what this stirring of shame twisting in my gut is.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin plays it off and tells me, “Catch you later,” before half-jogging into the locker room.
“He giving you a hard time?” Dean asks me and when I hear Kevin’s sneakers skid across the cement pad in front of the doorway, I finally look up at Dean. And right into a possessive stare.
One that sees right through me.
His hard gaze makes me feel like my hand has been played. Like I can’t trust the words in my mouth.
“You want to tell me something?” he asks me and my bottom lip wobbles slightly. I want to tell him everything. I’m desperate to tell someone.
“Did you see him score?” Daniel’s voice interjects. When I peek up at him, Dean takes a step back, narrowing his eyes and focusing them on Daniel. “He said it was for you,” Daniel adds as he slips his arm around Dean’s shoulders and flashes me a charming smile, but I see right through it.
He’s a good liar. From what I’ve read, it’s a family trait of his.
“I saw a bit of the action,” I tell Daniel and then meet Dean’s stare to add, “I like watching him score.”
A flicker of humor touches his eyes, but he doesn’t smile until I say, “I’m glad you guys are done though; I don’t like waiting for what I want.”
I shouldn’t have said it really. But I wanted to see him smile. I wanted it so bad that I lost track again. He makes me reckless.
“You heard her,” Dean says and slaps Daniel’s arm away.
“You made her wait long enough I guess,” Daniel says before walking off and nodding a farewell.
A short moment passes, and I don’t know what Dean’s next move will be. And that makes me nervous.
“So, you ready to go?” Dean asks me, and I gawk at him.
“Go where?” I ask.
The muscles on his broad shoulders ripple as he moves the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder and across his body.
“I just came to give you your shirt back.”
“That’s nice of you,” he says and then looks at my purse and my cheeks burn. I don’t actually have it with me. I just said that to make it difficult for him.
“So?” he asks, and another breeze goes by, sending goosebumps up my arm. It’s colder in the evening and especially in the shadows.
“So, what?”
“The shirt?” he asks and then adds, “Really, it’s for you to hold on to until I can get you a new one.”
I shrug off the chill. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to though. You alright with that?” he asks like it’s a dare and my heart skips a beat as I’m caught in his heated gaze. He traps me so easily.
Luckily, I’m saved by his next comment.
“I like being with you for some reason.” It’s a backhanded compliment. He’s such an asshole. But such a good-looking, playful one.
“Yeah, well, you’re an asshole jock and jocks aren’t my thing,” I tell him back just as dismissively. Both of us are smiling though. This is what I like about him.
“I’m not a jock,” he answers me.
I wait for him to comment on the asshole part and when he doesn’t I sputter out a small laugh.
I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around my chest as a gust blows my hair off my shoulder. Dean looks up and it’s as if that’s the cue for the sky to visibly darken.
“So, where do you want to go?” he asks me.
“I’m not sure that’s smart.”
“It’s just a date.”
“I don’t think we should date. I don’t really do dating,” I lie. My gaze falls to his chest, moves to his shoes then continues to the ground as I feel the truth of why I even bothered to go against my gut and show up to the
field today. I push the hair back from my face as the breeze picks up and wish I’d worn a thicker coat.
The sound of Dean rustling in his duffle bag gets my attention, and he pulls out a jacket and hands it out to me. “Put it on,” he says and it’s clearly a command. Like a good girl, I reach out for it, but then feel ridiculous and pathetic and drop my hand before I grab it.
“Dean, I’m not good for you.” I push the words out even though they hurt, even though they make me feel worse than just playing along.
“You’re cute Allie Cat, but that ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit isn’t going to work on me. I’m too used to being pushed away,” he tells me, and I watch his expression as he realizes what he’s said.
“Come on, take it,” he urges, shaking the jacket and the memory of last night forces me to take it.
I’m silent as I put it on.
“So, date,” Dean’s voice calls out as he grips the strap with both of his hands and watches me slip on his jacket. It’s oddly warm for being so thin. “Where are we going?” he asks.
I roll my eyes and tell him, “I don’t date.”
“Just fucking then,” he says, nodding his head. “Your place or mine?” he asks with a cocky grin.
“I’m not here just so you can get in my pants,” I protest, trying desperately to clear my head and figure out what the hell I’m doing.
“Then why’d you come?” he asks me.
“I told you I just wanted to give you your shirt back,” I tell him, but I can already see the spark of mischievousness in his eyes.
“I was talking about the other night, and it’s ‘cause you fucking loved it.”
I bat his chest as I turn away from him. “You’re awful,” I tell him, but when he slides up behind me, pulling my body close to his, I relax into his heat. I hear the wind blow behind us, but with my back to his chest, and my body facing the wall, not a bit of it touches my skin. Instead of a chill, I’m greeted with warmth as he gently nips my jaw and then releases me.
“You look good in my clothes,” he tells me when I turn to face him. His eyes freely roam down my body and the heat grows hotter in my cheeks.
“Thanks for the jacket,” I tell him and then watch as a few more guys leave the locker room. I cross my arms over my chest and peek up at him.
“I like you, Allison,” Dean says, taking a step forward. “I’m not going to let you get away so easily.”
My lungs still for a moment as his fingers brush along my face and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Maybe I’d like that,” I admit, saying the words out loud. But the moment I do, I’m certain I shouldn’t have said them.
“We’re gonna fuck, but I need to eat first,” he tells me. “And you’re coming with me.”
“So, you’re taking me out to dinner?” I ask incredulously, although I’m not blind to the fact that it makes me happy. Truly. And that should bother me more than it does. All of this should bother me more than it does.
“Just feeding you, Allie Cat. Don’t read too much into it.”
“I thought we were just fucking?” I ask him.
“A man’s gotta eat.”
I huff a response, although the smile lingers on my lips. But only for a moment.
Chapter 16
Dean
* * *
The corner diner on campus isn’t classy or fancy. The booths are covered in red vinyl that matches the narrow bar in front of the kitchen. The black and white checkerboard floor and vinyl records on the wall and jukebox in the far corner give it a retro feel.
Allie takes the lead the second we walk in, heading for the booth by the far exit and I follow her. She’s been quiet since we left, and I don’t like it.
I don’t like the way she was looking at Kev even more.
I pass a waitress carrying two baskets of fries and she calls out, “Be right with you,” as I take my seat in the booth Allie picked.
“You been here yet?” I ask her, still trying to figure out what’s going on in her pretty little head.
She lifts a brow at me as she slips the jacket off her shoulders. My jacket. “You learn quick,” she tells me, and I feel my forehead crease.
“How’s that?”
“Small talk, you do well when you lead with it.”
There’s a hum of pleasure running through me when she smiles. “I try,” I answer her and then glance over my shoulder as the waitress heads back to the kitchen rather than toward us.
When I look back at Allie, she’s quiet again, a contemplative look on her face.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of Kevin. Maybe he’s the one she really wanted.
My muscles coil at the thought and I can feel the anger rising at the thought of her with him. She’s mine.
I pick at the napkin on the table out of habit. My mind keeps going back to the sight of her batting her lashes at him and giving him that sweet look she gave me. Doesn’t she know better than that? I’ll treat her good. I have what it takes to keep her.
“So, you don’t like jocks?” I ask her, getting ready to bring it up. To make sure she knows her ass is mine right now. Even in kindergarten, everyone knew I don’t share well with others.
“Not really,” she answers me, but that playfulness in her voice is gone. She squirms in her seat like she’s uncomfortable.
“They’re just not your type?” I ask with my eyes narrowing, each second bringing me closer to the place I was when I came out of the locker room and saw her with him.
She meets my gaze head-on. “I’ve fucked a lot of them, but I guess I just prefer others.”
“You like being thought of like that, don’t you?”
“Like what?” she eggs me on.
“Like a slut,” I answer, not missing a beat.
“I like it when people call me that to my face. I like them to know it doesn’t bother me. I fucking own it.” Her breathing picks up, her body tensing. Like she’s ready for a fight and to defend her position. I don’t want a fight though. I fucking love how she knows what she wants.
“Then what type do you like? Since you’re so good at owning it.”
“I have lots of types, I guess.”
“But no one type in particular?” I ask her. “Not like, I don’t know, my height, my eye color?” She barely looks at me and then I add, “Tall, dark, and handsome?” I expect her to laugh or give me something back. But I get nothing.
She presses her lips together in a thin line and looks past me when there’s some banging going on in the kitchen. The other couple at the far end of the restaurant is looking too.
It’s only when I look back to the piece of napkin in my hands that I realize it’s shredded.
“No. No type in particular,” Allie says flatly.
“You’re being moody as fuck.”
“I’m just moody in general,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Those beautiful eyes are narrowed at me, and I know she’s warring with something, but I don’t know what. I just want her to tell me.
“Give me something,” I beg her. The words may come out as a command. But I’m fucking begging. I’m practically on my knees wanting this girl to trust me.
“Something?” That resolute look in her eyes flickers, like she didn’t expect that. Like she didn’t expect me.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” I start to say, but before I’m even through with the words she’s shaking her head.
“I didn’t ask for this,” she bites back instantly.
“Then leave,” I tell her because I’m irritated. Because the fact that she’s giving me attitude and pushing me away is doing nothing but pissing me off.
It takes all of a half-second for her to stand up, leaving my jacket where it is, and making a beeline for the back exit.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I call after her.
“A lot,” she answers, and I should let her walk away. I should watch her do it and order myself something to eat.
Forget about her.
I’m sure there’s a lot of shit I should do, but logic and reasoning aren’t really my strong suit.
And I fucking want her.
More than anything else right now. I. Want. Her.
I shove the table as I stand, and it squeaks across the floor. “Allison,” I call after her as the door shuts, but she doesn’t look back.
I’m quick. Quicker than her as I round the back exit to the deserted parking lot.
My hand slams on the brick wall as I catch up to her, trapping her in and stopping her in her tracks.
“You’re in my way,” she says through gritted teeth.
“I don’t like games,” I tell her.
“I told you, Dean,” she says sarcastically, although her expression is riddled with pain. “It’s always a game.”
“What’s going on with you? You’re making me fucking crazy with this shit.”
“You think I don’t care about myself, huh? That I don’t have any self-worth?”
“Where the fuck is that coming from?” I ask her.
“From you asking me if I’m a slut.”
“That’s not what I said, I said you like being thought of like that. There’s a difference.”
Her expression softens slightly, but she continues this bullshit. “It’s the same for you.”
“It’s not. And I didn’t say shit about your self-worth.” I mock the way she said it and feel like an ass, but it pisses me off she’d even say that. “I only want you because you are worth it. How can you not see that?”
She flinches from my question.
“Just let me go,” she whispers and pushes at my arm, but I hold firm.
“No, you’re not leaving like this.” My heart stutters. I’ve never met someone like her. She needs someone. It’s so fucking obvious.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she says, but even as she does, I can see her strength is gone.
We’re in the back lot, the dumpsters are right behind us and there are only two cars back here. We have plenty of privacy and at the realization, I step even closer to her. Upping the ante.
